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Full text of "The comedies of Terence, translated into familiar blank verse"

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N TME CUSTODY Of ThE 

BOSTON PUBLIC LIBRARY. 




SHELF N° 




THE 

COMEDIES 



O F 



TERENCE, 

Tranflated into Familiar Blank Verse. 
* By GEORGE COLMAN. 



Primores popul't arripuit populumque trihutbn : 
Scilicet uni tequus 'virtuti atque ejus amicis. 
^in ubi fe a fvulgo et fcena in Jecreta remorant 
Virtus Scipiadee et fnitis fapientia Ltell^ 
Nugari cum illo et difcinSli ludere, donee 
Decoqueretur olus, foliti. Hor. 



The SECOND EDITION, revifed and correded. 



VOL. II. 



LONDON: 
Printed for T. Becket and P. A. De Hondt, in the Strand i 
and R. Baldwin, in Pattr-noJler-Roiv, 
• MDCCLXVm. 

V 



'AUABfli> iVo.r 
















}')rotliers 



Jtt iti iti -Ti iti iti iti ji iti iti it» A iti i|i rfi iti Ji it j. >ti iti it. -t. iji it A A '1' tl -tut, itntid, it. j. J, j. >I< iti iti 't' '1' 't 'li A 



THE 



BROTHERS. 



j,4>^l>^»^^,|.^4>,j,>j.4>4H{.4,4Ht.|.44»f4.4»f«»4.<H^^^..^|.4.»4,4.4i^Hr.^HH'4' 



Vol. it. B 



T O 

JAMES B O O T H^ Efqj 

OF LINCO list's INN, 

THE FOLLOWING COMEDY, 
TRANSLATED FROM TERENCE, 

IS INSCRIBED, 

BY HIS MOST OBLIGE© 

MP ST FAITHFUL 

AND OBEDIENT HUMBLE SERVANT^ 

GEORGE COLMAR 
B 2 



pr H E 



BROTHERS; 

A(5ted at the Funeral Games of L. -jEmilius Paiilus,* 
given by Q^ Fabius Maximus, and P. Cornelius 
Africanus : f Principal A6tors, L. Attilius Prs- 



* Lucius ^milius Paulus.'] 
SurnamedM^cedonicus, becaufe 
he had obtained a viftory over 
Perfeus king of Macsdon ; he 
died in the year of Rome 593, 
one hundred fifty-eight years 
before the nativity of Chrift : 
he was fo poor at the time of 
his deceafe, that they were con- 
ftrained to fell his eftate in or- 
der to pay his widow her dower. 
Dacier. 

f ^ Fahius Maximus 13 P. 
Cornelius Jfricanus.'^ In fome 
copies we read, ^. F. M. 13 
P. C. J. uEdilibus Curulibus.— 
*' Q^ Fabius Maximus, and P. 
*' Cornelius Africanus, Curule 
" iEdiles."— This, as Scali- 
ger and other commentators are 
of opinion, muil be erroneous : 
for the children and relations 
of the deceafed, and not the 
^diles, had always the direc- 
tion of the funeral games. Be- 
fides, it is very certain, that 
P. C. Scipio Africanus, the fon 
of Paulus j^milius, never was 



^dile, the Confulfhip having 
been conferred upon him th« 
fame year that he fued for the 
^dilelhip, though not yet ar- 
rived at the ufual age ailigned 
for that high dignity ; as we 
are told by Aurelius Viftor in 
his little Trcatife of Illuftri- 
ous Men. And this event did 
not happeh till twelve years 
after the death of his father and 
the reprefentation of this play, 
Scipio being even then but 
thirty-fix years of age, before 
which time no petfon could be 
elededyEdile.--Muret correfied 
the title after an antient MS. 
he had feen at Venice. The Q^ 
Fabius Maximus and P. Corne- 
lius Africanus here mentioned 
were the two fons of ^^milius 
Paulus, and had taken the fur- 
nr.mes of the perfohs who had 
adopted them. This is un- 
doubtedly the true reading. The 
y^diles that year were Q^Ful- 
vius Nobillor and L. Marcius. 
Dacier.. 



B 3 



peftinus. 



[ 6] ■ , 

neftinus, and Minutius Prothimus : The Mufick 
compofed for Tyrian Flutes, * by Flaccus, Freed- 
man to Claudius : Taken from the Greek of Me- 
nander. Firft aded, L. Anicius and M. Cornelkis, 
Confuls f . 



* Tyrian flutes. '\ Tib'tis War- 
rants. Tyre by the antient 
Phoenicians was called 5or ; 
the Carthaginians, their de- 
fcendants, called it Sar^ from 
whence it came to be called 
Sarra. Sarranis therefore meant 
the fame thing as Tyriis. Thefe 
Tyrian flutes were the equal 
left-handed flutes, and always 
ufed upon joyful occafions.-— 
And here arifes a great difficul- 
ty, for how can we imagine 
that the children of ^milius 
would haveallowed fuch mufick 
at their father's funeral ? It is 
impoffible. This title is not 
only corrupt, but defedive : 
the true reading is ASa primum 
iiliis Lydiisideinde TJBiis Sar- 
ranis. The Lydian flutes 
were grave and folemn, and 
confequently adapted to grave 
and folemn purpofes. After the 
play had been afted at that fo- 
lemnity, it was performed with 
left-handed flutes^ and doubt- 
iefs on fome lefs mournful oc- 
cafion. See the preface of Do- 
natus to this comedy. Dacier. 
There is much ingenuity in 
the above note of Madam Da- 



cier, who has plainly proved 
that the title to this play is de- 
fedive ; and fo there is great 
reafon to think, are the titles to 
the reft of our author's come- 
dies. Yet I cannot entirely 
agree with her, that fuch mu- 
fick could not have been ufed 
at a funeral. The antients, we 
know, admitted all kinds of 
games at fuch folemnities. The 
mufick was moft probably fuit- 
ed to the comedy, rather than 
to the occafionj on which it was 
exhibited : and Donatus, to 
whom fhe refers, tells us in ex- 
prefs words, that it was fo in 
the prefent inllance. Modidata 
eft autem tibiis dextrisy id efi^ 
Lydiis, ob feriam gravitatem, 
qua fere in omnibus comcediis 
utitur hie poeta. ** It was com- 
" pofed for right-handed flutes, 
♦' that is, Lydian, becaufe of 
" the ferious 'vein, nvhich gene^ 
♦ ' raUy prcjails in all cur au- 
" tbcjr's ccmcdies."" The learned 
reader, who will be at the pains 
to confult Madam Dacier, I be- 
lieve will agree with me, that 
fhe has but partially cited, and 
inaccurately tranflated the above 
extras^ 



t7] 

fextra£l from the preface of when afted at Weftminfier 

Donatus. School in the year 1759, foon 

I cannot conclude the rotes after the melancholy news of 

bn this title, without taking the death of that mod: emi- 

notice of the happy and elegant nent military character. Gene-* 

life made of the occafion, on ral Wolfe. The learned reader, 

which the play was Rrll repre- I dare fay, will not be forry 

fcnted, by my late friend Lloyd, to fee it entire, 
in his Prologue to this Comedy, 

Prologus in Adelphos, 1759." 

Cum Patres Populumque dolor communis haberet, 

Fleretet ^milium Maxim.a Roma fliutti, 
Funebres inter ludbs, his dicitur ipfis 

Scenis extinftum condecorafle ducem. 
Ecquis adeft, fcenam nofte hac qui fpeflet eandemj 

Nee nobis luftum fentiet efle parem ? 
Utcunque arrifit pulchris vidoria cdsptis, 

Qua fol extremas vifit uterque plagas, 
Succefsus etiam medio de fonte Britannis 

Surgit amari aliquid, legitimufque dolor. 
Si fams generofa fitis, ft bellica virtus, 

Ingenium felix, intemerata fides, 
Difficiles laurus, ipfoquein flore juventaj 

Heu ! nimium lethi prascipitata dies, 
Si quid habent pulchrum hsc, vel fi quid amabile, Jurs 

Efto tua haec, Wolfi, laus, propriumque decus ! 
Nee moriere omnis. — Quin ufque corona vigcbit, 

Unanimis Britonura quam tibi neftit amor. 
Regia quin pietas marmor tibi nobile ponetj 

Quod tua perpetuis prxdicet adla notis. 
Confluet hue ftudio vifendi martia pubes, 

Sentiet et flamma corda calere pari ; 
Dumque legit mediis cecidiiTe heroa triumphis, 

Dicet, SirC DETUR VINCERE, SIC MORIAR. 

f Z. Jnicius and L. Cornelius, Confuh.^ That is, in ;he year of 
Rome 593, and 16c years before Chrift. 



B 4 P R O-^ 



PERSONS. 

PROLOGUE, 
DEMEA^ 
M I C I O, 

^ S C H I N U S, 

C T E S I P H O, 

H E G I O, 

S A N N I O, 

S Y R U S, 

GET A, 

D R O M O, 

P A R M E N O, other Servants, &c; 



SOSTRATA, 
CANTHARA, 
MUSICK-GIRL, and other Mute^, 



SCENE, Athens. 



PROLOGUE. 



TH E Bard perceiving his piece cavill'd at 
By partial criticks, and his adverfaries 
Mifreprefenting what we're now to play. 
Pleads his own caufe-, and you fhall be the judges. 
Whether he merits praife or condemnation. 

The Synapothnefcontes* is a Piece 
By Diphilus,-f a Comedy which Plautus, 
Having tranflated, called Commorientes. 
In the beginning of the Gr^ecian play 
There is a youth, who rends a girl perforce 
From a procurer : and this incident, 
Untouch*d by Plautus, render'd word for word. 
Has our Bard interwoven with his Brothers ; 
The new piece which we reprefent to-day. 
Say then if this be theft, J or honefl ufe 



* Synapothne/contes.^ A Greek 
word [soi/axoevwKo.'ls^] fignify- 
ing iiying together. Varro fome- 
where declares that Plautus was 
not the author of the comedy, 
called Commorientes, a Latin 
word of the like import : but 
he certainly fpeaks of fome 
other play which bore the fame 
title, or the opinions of men 
mull have differed in his days 
concerning this matter ; fome 
giving it to Plautus, others to 
Aquilius. Terence however, 
La my opinion, is an authority 



moft to be depended upon. 
The play of Plautus is loft. 
Dacier. 

f Diphilus.'l Diphilus, as 
well as Philemon, was a comick 
poetjcotemporary of Menander. 

: 1/this he theft, l^c.^ No- 
thing can fet the Greek poets in 
a more exalted light, than to 
fee them, even from the earlieft 
days of the Romans, not only 
fo eagerly read, but fo atten- 
tively and fo carefully tranfla- 
ted, that the Latin authors fel- 
dom 



to 



PROLOGUE. 



Of what remain'd unoccupied. — For that 
Which malice tells, that* certain noble perfons 
Aflift the Bard, and write in concert with him j 
That which they deem a heavy flander. He 
Efteems his greateft praife : that he can pleafe 
Thofe, who pleafe you, who all the people pleafe j 
Thofe, whof in war, in peace, in counfel, ever 
Have render'd you the deareft fervices j 
And ever born their faculties fo meekly. 
Expefl not now the ftory of the Play : 
Part the old men, who firfl appear, will open ; 
Part will in ad be fhewn. — Be favourable j 
And let your candour to the poet now 
Increafe his future earneflnefs to write ! 



iom or ever attempted any 
thing of their own : Donatus, 
in his preface to this comedy, 
fays of Terence, minus ex'ijli- 
mans laudis prcprias fcriberCy 
quam Gracas transfirre, - - * ' t h in k - 
*' ing it lefs praife to invent 
" new plays, than to tranflate 
"' Greek ones." S. 



* Certain nolle perfons. 1 Sci- 
pioi Laelius, & Furius Publius. 

DONATUS. 

See the notes to the au- 
thor's life. 

f In war, peace ^ l£c.'\ In 
war fignlfies Scipio ; in peace, 
Furius Publius ; in coiinfeli 
LkUus. Donatus. 



THE 




t H E 

BROTHERS. 

A C T I. S C E N E L 

M I C I O- 

O, Storax ! * — No reply ? — Then iEfchiniis 
Never return'd, it feems,lafl: night from fiippcr^ 
Nor any of the (laves, who went to meet him. + 
— 'Tis commonly, — and oh how truly!— faid, 
if you are abfent, or delay, 'twere beil 
That fhoiild befal you, which your v/ife declares^ 
Or which in anger fhe fuppofes of you. 
Than that which kindeft parents fear. — Your wifcj. 
If you delay, fufpecls that you're engag'd 
In fome intrigue, debauch, or entertainment ; 
Confulting your own happinefs abroad, 
While fhe, poor foul ! is left to pine at home. 
— But what a world of fears pojfTefs me now ! 

* Ho, Storax /] Storax ! non Tervants, are come home. Do- 

fediit hcc no^e a coena^Jchinus. natu?. 

Some confider Micio as afltino; , ,„, . / -i ^ ■ 

.. . , r J I t Who luent tamest htm. \&ui 

a queltion in theie words, but , r ■ r.^x r 

, .n, TT II advorjum terant. 1 he iervants, 

they are miftaken. He calls , in 

- ' , r 1- 11 who went to meet their malters, 

btorax ; and nnding he does i i ^ , , i 

/ 1,1 snd defend them heme, were 

not anfwer, concluaes that nejr ,, , ^ , ^ t> 

, jrr-^- ri- Called ^^Wr/Tr^rf;. DONATUS 

ther Alchinus, nor anv cJr his -^ 



b 



Kow 



11 THE BROTHERS. 

How many ills I figure to myfelf. 

As caufes that my fon is not return'd ! 

Left lie have taken cold, or had a fall. 

Or broke a Timb ! — Good Heavens ! that a man 

Shou'd doat fo much, or fufFer any one 

To wind himfelf fo clofe about his heart, 

As to grow dearer to him than himfelf! 

And yet he is not my fon, but my brother's, 

Whofe bent of mind is wholly different. 

I, from yoiith upward even to this day, 

Have led a quiet, and ferene, towri-life ; 

And, as feme reckon fortunate, ne'er married* 

He, in all points the oppofite of this. 

Has paft his days entirely in the country 

With thrift, and labour ; married •, had two fons. 

The ekler boy is by adoption mine ; 

I've brought him up ; kept ; lov'd him as my own ; 

Made him my joy, and all my foul holds dear. 

Striving to make myfelf as dear to him. 

I give, o'erlook, nor think it requifite 

That all his deeds Ihould be controul'd by mc. 

Giving him fcope to a6b as of himfelf-, 

So that the pranks of youth, which other children 

Hide from their fathers, I have us'd my fon 

INot to conceal from me. For whofoe'er 

Hath v.'on upon himfelf to play the falfe one. 

And praftife impofitions on a father, 

Will do the fame with lefs remorle to otl\crs ; 

3 And 



T H E B R O T H E R S. 13 

And 'tis, in my opinion, better far * 

To bind your children to you by the ties 

Of gentlenefs and modefty, than fear. 

And yet my brother don't accord in this. 

Nor do thcfe notions, nor this condu6t pleafe him. 

Oft he comes open-mouth'd — " Why how now, Micio ? 

*' Why do you ruin this young lad ©four's ? 

" Why does he wench ? why drink ? and why do you 

" Allow him money to afford all this ? 

" You let him drcfs too fine. 'Tis idle in you." 

— 'Tis hard in him, unjuft, and out of reafon. 

And he, I think, deceives himfelf indeed, 

Who fancies that authority more firm 

Founded on force, than what is built on friendihip ; 

For thus I reafon, tlius perfuade myfelf : 

He who performs his duty, driven to't 

By fear of punilhment, while he believes 

His aflions are obferv'd, fo long he's wary ; 

But if he hopes for fecrecy, returns 

* uind Wis in piy opinion^ 1:3 c.\ in his Humour, where they are 
Thefefentiments are adopted by put into the mouth of ©1(J 
Ben Jonfon in his Every Man Knowell. 

There is a way of winning more by love. 

And urging of the modefty, than fear : 

Force works on fervile natures, not the free. 

He that's compell'd to goodnefs may be good; 

But 'tis but for that fit : where others, drawn 

Sy foftnefs and example, get a habit. 

Thon if they ftray, but warn them ; and the faq;e 

They fhou'd for virtue have done, they'll do for ftiame. 

To 



14 THE BROTHERS. 

To his own ways again : But he whom kindnefs^. 
Him alfo inclination makes your own : 
He burns to make a due return, and adls^ 
Prefent or abfent, evermore the fame. 
'Tis this then is the duty of a father. 
To make a fon embrace a life of virtue. 
Rather from choice, than terror or conftraint. 
Here lies the mighty difference between 
A father and a mafter. He who knows not 
How to do this, let him confefs he knows not 
Hov/ to rule children. — But is this the man. 
Whom I wa? fpeaking of? Yes, yes, 'tis he. 
He feems uneafy too, Iknow not why, 
And I fuppofe, as ufualj comes to wrangle.^ 

SCENE IL 
Enter D E M E A. 

Micio. Demea, I'm glad to fee you welL 
Demca. Oho ^-f- 
Well met: the very man I came to feek. 

Micio. But you appear uneafy: What's the matter? 

* Cotnes to '^lrangle.'] There t Oho J "juell met.] The Poet 

are feveral fine paffages in this ^^s in this place improved on 

Ipeech, and good obfervations Menander, in reprelenting De. 

, ,.^ . . mea as more ready to wrangle 

on human hie ; yet it is too • l u- l i. i 

^ with his brother, than to return 

long a foliloquy. Cookb. his compliments. Donatus. 

Demea, 



THE BROTHER S. 15 

Demca. Uneafy ? well I may. — The matter, fay you ? 
What can the matter be but ^Efchinus ? 

Micio. I faid it wou'd be fo. — What has he done ? 

Demea. Wlfat has he done ! a wretch whom neither 
fear, 
Nor modefty, nor any law can bind ! 
For not to fpeak of all his former pranks. 
What has he been about but even now ? 

Micio. What has he done ? 

Demea. Buric open doors, and made * 
His way by force into another's houfe ; 
Half-kill'd the mafter and his family. 
And carried off a wench whom he was fond of. 
All Athens cries out Ihame upon him for it. 
I have been told of it a hundred times 
Since my arrival. 'Tis the town-talk, Micio, 
-f-And if we needs muft draw comparifons. 
Does not he fee his brother, thrifty, fober. 
Attentive to his bufinefs in the country ? 
Not given to thefe p radices ? and when 
I fay all this to Him, to You I fay it. 

* Burji open doors^ y<r.] The palliating circumftance. Do- 
charafler and pafiion of De- natus. 

mea is finely marked in the ac- 

^r^,.^^ ■.■„v\r.\, u • r ^u T And if nxie needs viufl draijo 

count waich he gives or the ' -^ .■' 

..;^» ;., ,„i,:„u u^ j n comparifons. 'X There is much, 

not ; m which he dwells on , ■'^ -^ . ^ , . _ 

,»„»..„ rr,;^,,,^, ..• 1 ' humour in this paflage, when 

every mmute particular, enaea- . , ,^ . ° ' , 

vouring to multiply and ex- ^' ^PP"^'"' "^""^ '"' ^°" ^° "'"'^^ 
aggerate the offences of ^f- commended is the moft in fault, 
chinus, and concealing every •L'Onatus. 

You 



i6 THEBROTIiERS. 

You are his ruin, Micio. 

Micio. How unjuft 
Is he, who wants experience! who believes 
Nothing is right, but what he docs himfelf ! 

Demea. Why d'ye fay that ? 

J^licio. Becaufe you, Demea, 
Misjudge thefe matters. 'Tis no heinous crime 
For a young man to wench, or drink. — 'Tis not. 
Believe mel — nor to force doors open. — This 
If neither you nor I have done, it was 
That poverty allow'd us not. And now 
You claim a merit to yourfelf, from that 
Which want conftrain'd you to. It is not fair. 
For had there been but wherewithal to do't, 
We like wife fhould have done thus. Wherefore You, 
Were you a man, would let your younger fon, 
Now, while it fuits his age, perfue his pleafures -, 
Feather than, when it lefs becomes his years. 
When, after wiihing long, he Ihall at laft 
Be rid of you, he Ihould run riot then. 

Demea. Oh Jupiter! the man will drive me mad. 
^0 heinous crime, d'ye fay, for a young man 
To take thefe courfes f 

Micio. Nay, nay •, do but hear me. 

Nor ftun me with the felf-fame thing for ever ! 

Yoyr elder fon you gave me for adoption : 

He's mine then, Demea i and if he offends, 

'Tis an offence to Me, and / muft bear 

the 



THE BROTHERS. 

The burden.* Does he treat? or drink? ordrefs? 

'Tis at my coft. Or wench ? I will fupply him. 

While 'tis convenient to me; when 'tis not, 
-f His miftrefies perhaps will fniit him out. 



i; 



* Does he treat ? or drink P 
fcfi-.] The mild character of 
Micio is contrafted by Tully to 
that of a furious, fevere father, 
as drawn by the famous comick 
poet Cascilius. Both writers 



Nimc demum mihi animus ardefy 
nunc nieum cor cumulalur ird. 

— O infelix, Ofcelus /— . 

Egone quid dicam ? egone quid 
'velim ? qute tu omnia tuis feedis 
are quoted in the oration for faBis fads, ut neq:tid^uam me- 
Caslius, in the compoiltion of ^'^"• 

which it is plain that the orator Cur te in iflam vici-nitatem vie^ 

kept his eye pretty conftantly retriciam co7itulifti ? cur ilkcebris 

on our poet. The paflnges cognitis iionrefugifii? cur alienam 

from Ca^cilius contain all that a//«z« tnulierem nofti ? dide at 
vehemence and feverity, which, dijjice, per fue licebit. Si egehis, 
as Horace tells us, was account- ti^i dolebit : mihi fat ef, qui 
ed the common charadler of the ^atis quod reliquum eft, cbkilem 

Zlile of that author. mece. 

( 

'- Now my foul burns, now my heart fwells with anger.. 

Oh wretch, oh monller ! 

What can I fay ? what can I wifh ? when, you 
By your vile deeds make all my wishes vain ? 
Why did you go into that neighbourhood ? 
Why, knowing her allurements, not avoid them ? 
And why maintain an intercourfe io viie ? 
— Spend, fquander, dillipate, I give you leave. 
If want o'ertakes you, }cu alone will feel it ; 
For my remains of life I've yet enough. 

f His miftteffes perhaps ivill Micio. The fondnefs he ex- 

fut him ouf.] Fortafe excludetur prefTes in this fentiment is very 

foro.s. I once underflood this remarkable : he does not ab- 

palfage thus : perhaps Imayturn folutely fay, ^fchinus's mif- 

him out cf doors : h\xt on imihtr trcfTes ivi// turn him out of 

confideration I think the fenfe doors, excludetur foras, hut for- 

which I have followed more tafe excludetur for as, perhaps 

agreeable to the charadler of they uxy turn him out of door $, 

"Voi.. il. C He 



i8 THE BROTHERS. 

— Has he broke open doors ? we'll make them good. 
Or torn a coat ? it fhall be mended. I, 
Thank heaven, have enough to do all this, 
And 'tis as yet not irkfome. — In a word, 
Have done, or chiife fome arbiter between us : 
I'll prove that you are more in fault than I. 

Deinea. Ah, learn to be a father-, learn fromthofe, 
Who know what 'tis to be indeed a parent ! 

Mlcio. By nature you're his father, I by counfel. 

Deme-a. You ! do you counfel any thing ? 

IVIido. Nay, nay; 
If you perfift, I'm gone. 

Demea. Is't thus you treat m.e ? 

Micio. Mufti be plagued with tlie fame thing fo often ^ 

Demea. It touches me. 

Micio. And me it touches too. 
But, Demea, let us each look to our own ; 
Let me take care of one, and mind you t'other. 
For to concern yourfelf with both, appears 
As if you'd re-demand the boy you gave. 

Tiemea. Ah, Micio ! 

Micio. So it feems to me. 

Demea. Well, well ; 
Let him, if 'tis your pleafure, wafte, deftroy, 

lie is fo extremely partial to his them no prefents. This ex- 
adopted fon, that he thinks his preflion fortajfe has an admi- 
miftrefles would certainly carefs rable effedl, as was obferved by 
him, even though he made Donatus. Dacier. 

And 



19 



THE BROTHERS. 

And fquander ; it is no concern of mine* 
, If henceforth I e'er fay one word -*• 

Micio. Again ? 
Angry again, good Demea ? 

Demea. You may truft me; 
Do I demand him back again I gave you ? 
— It hurts me. I am not a ftranger to him. 
— But if I once oppofe — Well, well, I've done, 
You wifh I fhould take care of One. I do 
Take fpecial care of him ; and he, thank heav'n, 
Is as I wirti he JJjould be : which your ward, 
I warrant, fhall find out one tim.e or other. 
I will not fay aught v/orfe of him at prefent. {E>:it>. 

SCENE TIL 
MICIO alone* 

Though what he fays be not entirely true. 
There's fom.ething in it, and it touches me^ 
But I dilTembled my concern with him, 
Becaufe the nature of the man is fuch, 
To pacify, I mufi: oppofe and thwart him ; 



* Mido atone.'\ Terence feems feem to corrupt his for, rathe? 
inclined to favour the part of rr.ild than to treat him with a proper 
fathers. He reprefmts Micio indulgence. Wherefore, through 
as afFeded at his fon's irregula- all his moderation, he flill be- 
rities ; left, if he fhould ap- trays a fatherly emotion. Do- 
pear wholly unmoved, he might natu.'. 

C 2 And 



20 



THE BROTHERS. 



And even thus I fcarce can teach him patience. 

But were I to inflame or aid his anger, 

I were as great a madman as himfelf. 

Yet ^fchinus, 'tis true, has been to blame. 

What wench is there but he is her gallant ? 

Or tempts her with fome gift ? — But lately too 

(Tir'd, I fuppofe, and fick of wantonnefs) 

*He told me he propos'd to take a wife. 

I hop'd the hey-day of the blood was over. 

And was rejoic'd : but his intemperance 

Breaks out afrefh. — Well, be it what it may, 

I'll find him out; and know it inftantly, 

If he is to be met with at the Forum. \_Exit. 



* He told me he prcpos' d to take 
aivi/e.] The art of Terence in 
preparing his incidents is won- 
derful. He contrives that even 
ignorant perfons fhall open the 
plot: as in the prefent inftance, 
which gives us to underftand 



that -(^fchlnus had mentioned to 
Micio his intentions of taking a 
wife, though he had not entered 
into particulars. This natural- 
ly leads us to the enfuing part 
of the fable, without foreftalling 
any of the circumftances. Doi». 



ACT 



THE BROTHERS. 21 



A C T IL S C E N E I. 

Enter i^SCHINUS, SANNIO, PARMENO, 

the Mitfick Girl, and a Croud of People. 

San. TJ'ELP, help, dear countrymen, for heaven's 

LI. fake ! 
Aflift a miferable harmlefs man, ! 
Help the diftrefl ! 

j^fch. to the Girl.'] Fear nothing: ftand juft there! 
Why d'ye look back ? you're in no danger. Never, 
While I am by, fhall he lay hands upon you. 

San. Ay, but I will, in fpite of all the world. 

jEfch, Rogue as he is, he'll fcarce do any thing 
To make me cudgel him again to day. 

San. One word, Sir ^Efchinus ! that you may not 
Pretend to ignorance of my profeiTion ; 
I'm a Procurer, * 

* Vm a Procurer.'] He fays inheritance. Hence in Lncian 

this to ^fchinus to intimidate ayoung man complainingof be- 

him, alluding to the privileges ing difinherited by his father, 

allowed to the Procurers at A- fays, t<; '!ropv'X<jaM^ vCgn^ea ; 

thens, on account of the profit " what flave-merchant accufes 

accruing to the republick from " me of having mal-treated 

their traffick ioflaves.lt was for- " him r" Dacier. 
bid to abufethein,onpainofdif- 

C 3 Mfih: 



22 T H E B R O T H E R S, 

^fch. True. 

San. And in my way 
Of as good faith as any man alive. 
Hereafter, to abfolve yourfelf, you'll cry, 
That you repent of having wrongM me thus, 
I fhan't care that for your excufe. [fnappng his fingers. \ 

Be fure, 
I'll profecute my rightj nor Hiall fine words 
Atone for evil deeds. I know your way. 

. " I'm forry that I did it : and I'll fwear 

" You are unworthy of this injury" . 



Though all the while I'm us'd moft fcurvily. 

jEfch. to Par.] Do you go forwards, Parmeno, and 
throw 
The door wide open. 

San. That fha'n't fignify. 

yEfch. to Parmeno.^ Now in v/ith her ! 

San. fiepping between.'] I'll not allow it, 

jEfch. to Parmeno.] Here ! 
Come hither, Parmeno ! — you're too far off.— 
Stand clofe to that Pimp's fide — There — there— jult 

there ! 
And now be fure you always keep your eyes 
Stedfallly fix'd on mine \ and when I wink, 
To drive your fill diredtly in his face. 

San. Ay, if he dare. 

^fih. 



THE BROTHERS. 23 

^^fch. to Par.'] Now mind ! — [/<? Sannio.'] Let go 
the girl ! [Sannio ftill firuggling with the 
Girl., iEfchinus winks, and Parmeno Jirikes 
Sannio. 
San. Oh monflrous !• 
Mfch. He fhall double it, unlefs 
You mend your manners. 

[Parmeno Jlrikes Sannio again. 
San. Help, help : murder, murder ! 
jEfch. to Parmeno. 1 I did not wink : but you had 
better err 
That way than t'other. Now go in with her. 

[Parmeno leads the Girl into Micio'j Houfe. 
San. How's this } — Do you reign King here, 

^^fchinus ? 
jEfch. Did I reign King, you fhould be recompensed 
According to your virtues, I afTure you. 
San. What bufinefs have you with me .? 
^fch. None. 
San. D'ye know * 
Who I am, JEfchinus .^ 
yEfch. Nor want to know. 
San. Have I touch'd aught of your's, Sir ? 
jEfch. If you had. 
You fhould have fufFer'd for't. 



* D^ye knoiv njjho I am Pi l^ojiin' qui Jim? A law term, fignlfv- 
ing, '* Do 1 owe you any thing ?" Donatus. 



C 4 San. 



24 THEBROTPIERS. 

San. Wh^t greater right 
|-Iave you to take away my (lave, for whom 
T paid my money ? anfwer me ! 

Mfch. 'Twere bed, 
You'd leave off bellowing before our door : 
If you continue to be troublefome, 
I'll have you dragg'd into the houfe, and there 
Lafh'd without mercy. 

San. How, a freeman lafh'd ! 

Mfch. Ev'nfo. 

San. O monllrous tyranny ! Is this. 
Is this the liberty they boaft of here. 
Common to a]l ? 

Mfch. If you have brawl'd enough, 
Pleafe to indulge me with one word, you Pimp, 
. San. Who has brawl'd moft, ycurfelf, or I ? 

JEfch. Well! well! 
Ko more of that, but to the point ! 

San. What point ? 
What wou'd you have ? 

Mfch. Will you allow me tlicn 
To fpeak of what concerns you ? 

San. Willingly: 
Speak but in juftice. 

Mfch. Excellent ! a Pimp, 
And talks of juftice ! 



Saiu 



T H E B R O T H E R S. 25 

San. Well, I am a Pimpi* 
The common bane of youth, a perjurer, 
A publick nuifancc, I confefs it : yet 
I never did You wrong. 

JEfch. No, that's to come. 

San. Prithee return to whence you firfl fet out, Sir!- 

JEfch. You, plague upon you for it ! bought the 
girl 
For twenty Min^e ; which fum we will give you. 

San, What if I do not chufe to fell the girl ? 
Will you oblige me ? 

* J Pimp, the commoti bane, whom thJs part of the fable 
dffc] This feems to be a tranf- was taken, 
lation from Diphilus, from 

OuK eqiv aSg t£%viov e^(akte;efo» 

No calling is moje baneful and pernicious. 
Than that of aprocurer. Westerhovius. 

The Procurer was a common radler was never fo finely 

charadler in the comedy of the painted in any of their works, 

antients ; but if we may pro- as in the following lines of 

tiounce from their remains, we Shakefpeare. 
I^ay venture to fay that thecha- 

Fie, firrah, a bawd, a wicked bawd ! 

The evil that thou caufefl: to be done. 

That is thy means to live. Doft thou but think. 

What 'tis to cram a maw, or cloath a back 

From fuch a filthy vice ? Say to thyfelf. 

From their abominable and beallly touches 

I drink, I eat, array myfelf, and live. 

Canft thou believe thy living is a life. 

So flinkingly depending ! Go mend, mend. 

Mcajure for Meafure. 

Mfck 



z6 T H E B R O T H E R S. 

^Efcb. No. 

San. I fear'd you would. 

JEfch. She's a free-woman, and fhould not be fold". 
And, as fuch,* by due courfe of law I claim her. 
Now then confider which you like the beft, 
To take the money, or maintain your adion. 
Think on this, Pimp, till I come back again. [Zx/V.^ 

SCENE II. 
S A N N I O alone 

Oh Jupiter ! I do not wonder now 

That men run mad with injuries. He drags me 

Out of my own houfej cudgels me moft foundly. 

And carries off my flave againft my will : 

And after this ill-treatment, he demands 

The Mufick-Girl to be made over to him, 

At the fame price I bought her. — He has pour'd 

His blows upon me, thick as hail -, for which. 

Since he deferves fo nobly at my hands. 

He fhould no doubt be gratified. — Nay, nay. 

Let me but touch the cafli, Fm ftill content^ 

* By due courfe oflww I claha -f- Exit.'\ I do not remember, 
her.'\ Ego liberali illam ajjiro in the whole circle of modera 
eau/a 7nanu. Law terms. The comedy, a more natural pic- 
defenders of the liberty of an- ture of the elegant eafe and in- 
other were called JlJ/irtores, and difference of a fine gentleman, 
the fuit commenced on that ac- than that exhibited in this fcene 
count called Liberalis cau/a, an in the character of ^fchinus. 
aftion of freedom. Donatus, 

But 



THE BROTHERS. -ij 

But this I guefs will be the cafe : as foon 
As I fhall have agreed to take his price. 
He'll produce witnefles immediately 
To prove that I have fold her. — And the money- 
Will be mere moon-fhine. — '- By and by." — " To- 
morrow." 
— Yet I could bear that too, tho' much wrono-. 
Might I but get the money after all : 
For thus it is, friend Sannio^ when a man 
Has taken up this trade, he muft receive, 
And pocket the affronts of young gallants. 
— But nobody will pay me, and I draw 
Conclufions to no purpofe. 

SCENE III. 
Enter S Y R U S. 

Syrus to Mfch, within.'] Say no more ! 
Let me alone to talk with him ! I warrant 
I'll make him take the moneys ay, and own 
That he's well treated too. [^coming forward. 

Why how now, Sannio ? 
What's the difpute I overheard juft now 
'Twixt you and my young mailer ? 

San. Never fure 
Was a difpute conduced more unfairly, 
Tf han that Ipetween us two to-day ! Poor I 

With 



2$ T H E B R O T H K R S\ 

"With being drubb'd, and he with drubbing mCj, 
'Till we were both quite weary. 
Syrus. All your fault. 
San, What could I do ? 
Syrus. Give a young man his way. 
San. What could I give him more, who gave my face i 
Synis. Nay, but conceive my meaning, Sannio ! 
To fecm upon occafion to flight money. 
Proves in the end, fometimes, the greateft gain. 
Why prithee, blockhead, could you be afraid. 
Had you abated fomewhat of your right. 
And humour'd the young gentleman, he would not 
Have paid you back again with intereft ? 

San. I never purchafe hope vvdth ready money. 
Syrus. Away! you'll never thrive. Youdonotknovil 
How to enfnare men, Sannio. 

San. Well, perhaps. 
Your way were belt : yet 1 was ne'er fo crafty 
But I had rather, when 'tv/as in my power, 
Receive prompt payment. 

Syrus. Pfhaw ! I know your fpirit : 
As if you valued Twenty Minae now. 
So you might do a kindnefs to my mafter ! 
— Befides they fay you're fetting out for Cy ^r\\s.\_carelefsly. 
San. Ha ! [alarmed. 

Syrus. — And have purchas'd a large ftock of goods 
To carry over thither. Hir'd a veilel, 

5 That 



THE BROTHER S. 29 

That 'tis, I know, which keeps you in fufpence: • 
When you return, I hope, you'll fettle this. 

San. I fliall not budge a foot. — Undone, by heav'n ! 
Urg'd by thefe hopes they've undertaken this, [afide, 

Syrus. He fears. I hinted Cyprus. There's the rub. 

[^ajide. 

San. to bimfelf.'] Confufion ! they have nick'd me tp 
a hair !* 
I've bought up fev'ral flaves, and other wares. 
For exportation -, and to mifs my time 
-]- At Cyprus-fair would be a heavy lofs. 
Then if I leave this bufinefs broken thus. 
All's over with me ; and at my return 
'Twill come to nothing, grown quite cold and ftale. 
" — What ! come at laft ? — Why did you flay fo lono- ? 
*' Where have you been V — that it were better lofe it. 
Than wait for it fo long, or fue for't then. 

Syrus., earning up to him.'] J Well, have you cal- 
• culated what's your due ? 

* Nicked me to a hair. ] In vierdfii id, quod ad Is reditiirum 

ipfo artkulo opprejftt. Literal- fiites? I have tranflated thcfe 

ly, *' hit me in the very words according to the intcr- 

" joint." pretation of Donatus. Madam 

t At Cyprus-fair.] The mer- ^^''<'' P"^' =^"^^'^^'' ^^"^'^ ^'Pon 

chants ufed to buy up flaves in ^^^"^^ ^""^ ^^'''^^ ^^^^ '^^^'^^ 

all parts of Greece, to fell them "^'^^" Sannio's calculation of his 

at Cyprus, where a celebrated P'°^^' ^^ ^^P'""'- The fubfc- 

fair was kept for that purpofe. "i"^^^ converfation between 

Dacier. Syrus and Sannlo inclined me 

rather to adopt the fornic'r opi- 

t Well, ha've you calculated nion. 
'what's your dus fj Jamne enu- 

San. 



50 THE BROTHERS. 

Sa7i. Monftrous oppreflion! Is this honourable^ 
Or jufl: in iEfchinus, to take away 
My property by force ? 

^yriis. So, fo, he comes. [^aftde, 

- — I have but one word more to fay to you. 
See, how you like it. — Rather, Sannio, 
Than run the rifk to get or lofe the whole, 
E*en halve the matter : and he fhall contrive 
To fcrape together by fome means* Ten Min^e, 

San. Alas ! alas ! am I in danger then 
Of lofmg ev'n my very principal ? 
Shame on him ! he has loofen'd all m.y teeth : 
My head is fweil'd all over like a mufhroom : 
And will he cheat me too ?— I'm going no where. 

Syrus. Jufl as you pleafe. — Have you aught elfe 
to fay. 
Before I go ? 

San. Yes, one word, prithee Syrus t 
However things have happen'd, rather than 
I fhould be driven to commence a fuit, 
Let him return me my bare due at leail ; 
The fum llie coft me, Syrus. — Fm convinc'd 
You've had no tokens of my friendlhip yet -, 
But you iball find I will not be ungrateful. 



* Scrape together hy fome means nio half, that he might be glad 

7hi Mina:.'] Syrus knew very to take his bare principal, and 

well that iEfchinus was ready think himfelf well off into the 

to pay the whole, but ofFers San- bargain. t)0NATUs, 

Syrus, 



THE BROTHERS. 3, 

Synis. I'll do my beft. But I fee Ctefipho. 
He is rejoic'd about his miftrefs. 

San. Say, 
Will you remember me ? 

Syrus, Hold, hold a little I 

[Syrus and Sannio nfire. 



SCENE IV, 
Enter CTESIPHO ai ancther part of the Stage s 

Ctef. Favours are welcome in the hour of need 
From any hand ; but doubly welcome, when 
Conferr'd by thofe, from whom we moft expeft them. 
O brother, brother, how Ihall I applaud thee ? 
Ne'er can I rife to fuch a height of praife 
But your defervings will out-top me ftill : 
For in this point I am fupremely bieft. 
That none can boaft fo excellent a brother, 
So rich in all good qualities, as I. 

Syrus comivg forward.'] O Ctefipho ! 

Ctef. turning round.] O Syrus ! where's my brother 

Syrus. At home, where he cxpefls you. 

Ctef Ha! [joyfully. 

Syrus. What now ? 

Ctef What now!— By his afllflance I live, Syrus. 

Ah, 



32 



THE BROTHERS, 



Ah, he's a friend indeed ! who difregarding 
All his own interefts for my advantage, 
The fcandal, infamy, intrigue, and blame, 
All due to me, has drawn upon himfelf ! 
"What could exceed it? — But who's there? — The doo.r 
Creaks on the hinges. [offering to go, 

Syrus. Hold ! 'tis iEfchinus. 



S C E N E V. 
Enler iE S G H I N U S. 

'j€fcb. Where is that rafcal ? * 

San. behind.^ He enquires for Me, 
Has he brought out the cafh with him ? — Confufion ! 
I fee none. 

jEfch. to Ciefipho.'] Ha! well met: I long'd to fee 
you. 
How is it, Ctefipho ? All's fafe. Away 
With melancholy ! 

Clef. Melancholy! I 



* JE/ch. Where is that rafcal? is enquired after, in order to 
San. He enquires for me. "] The be paid; and droops after- 



charadler of Sannio is well 
fuftaincd. He immediately 
takes to himfelf the infamous 
name of 'rafcal, and acknow- 
ledges it with joy, thinking he 



wards, not on account of hard 
words and ill ufage, but only 
for fear he (hould not get his 
lEOney. Don at us. 

Be 



S3 



THE BROTHERS. 

iBc melancholy, who iiavc fuch a brother ? 
'Oh my dear i^fchinus i thou bdfi: of brothers, 
• — Ah, I'm aSiam'd topraife you to your face. 
Left it appear to come from flattery, 
Rather than gratitude. 

y^fch. Away, you fool ! 
As if we did not know each other, Ctefipho, 
it only grieves me, we fo lately knew this, 
When things were almoft come to fuch a pals, 
That all the world, had they defir'd to do it, 
"Could not affift you. 

Cuf. 'Twas my modefty. 

j^/ch. Pfnaw ! it was folly, and not modefty. 
For fuch a trifle, almoft * fly your country ? 
Heaven forbid it ! — fie, fie, Ctefipho ! 

Cief. I've been to blame. 

JEfcb. Well, what fays Sannio ? 

Syrus. He's pacified at laft. 

Al/cJj. I'll to the Forum, 
And pay him oi^f,— You Ctefipho, go in 
To the poor girl. 

* Almofi fiy y<iur country. 1 In Diphilus : yet it is plain from 

iVlenander the young man was Donatus, that there was alfo an 

on the-point of killing himfelf. intrigue of Ctefipho in the play 

Terence has fokened this cir- oF Menander : which gives an- 

cumftance. Donatus. other proof of the mar.ner in 

We know that the circum- which Terence ufed the Greek 

ftance of carrying off the Mu- comedies. 
fjck-Girl was borrowed from 

Vol. II. D San, 



54 THE BROTHERS. 

San. Now urge the matter, Syrus ! \_apart to SyruS." 

Syrus. Let's go -, for Sannio wants to be at Cyprus. * 

San. Not in fuch hafte ; tho' truly I've no caufe 
To loiter here. 

Syrus. You Ihall be paid : ne'er fear ! 

San. But all? 

Syrus. Yes, all : fo hold your tongue, and follow. 

San. I will. [^Exit after JEicYimus— Syrus going, 

Ctef. Hift! hark ye, Syrus! 

Syrus., turning back.^ Well, what now ? 

Ctef. For heaven's fake difcharge that fcurvy fellow 
Immediately i for fear, if further urg'd, 
This tale fhould reach my father's ears : and then 
I am undone for ever. 

Syrus. It fna'n't be. 
Be of good courage ! meanwhile, get you in. 
And entertain yourfelf with Her ; and order 
The couches to be fpread, and all prepar'd. 
For thefe preliminaries once difpatch'd,, 
I fhall march homewards with provifions. 

Ctef Do ! 
And fmce this bufmefs lias turn'd out fo well. 
Let's fpend the day in mirth and jollity ! 

[Exeunt fever ally. 

* Sannio ivavis to be at Cyprus."] A piece of arch malice In Syrus, 
in order to teai.e Sannio. Do n a t u s . 

A C I' 



THE BROTHERS. ^6 

ACT III. SCENE I. 

SOSTRATA, CANTHARA. 

Sg/. "TJRITHEE, good nurfe, how will it go 
•*- with her ? 

Can. How go with her ? Why well, I warrant you. 

Sof. Her pains begin to come upon her, nurfe. 

Can. You're as much frighten'd at your time of day^ 
As if you ne'er were prefent at a labour. 
Or never had been brought to-bed yourfelf. 

Sof. Alas, I've no foul here: we're all alone. 
Geta is abfent-, nor is there a creature 
To fetch a midwife, or call ji^fchinus. 

Can. He'll be here prefently, I promife you : 
For he, good man, ne'er lets a fmgle day 
Go by, but he is fur'e to vifit us. 

Sof. He is my only comfort in my forrows. 

Can. Troth, as the cafe Hands, madam, circumfcances 
Could not have happen'd better than they have: 
And fince your daughter fuffer'd violence, 
*Tvvas well fhe met with fuch a man as this ; 
A man of honour, rank, and family. 

Sof. He is, indeed, a worthy gentleman : 
The Gods prcferve him to us! 

D 2 SCENE 



-^6 THE BROTHERS. 

SCENE II. 

Enter G E T A hafiily at enether pert of the Stage^ 

Get a. We are now 
So abfokitely loft, that all the world 
Joining in confultation to apply 
Relief to the misfortune, that has fallen 
On me, my miftrefs, and her daughter, all 
Wou'd not avail. — Ah me ! fo many troubles 
Environ us at once, we fmk beneath them. 
Rape, poverty, oppreiTion, folitude. 
And infamy ! oh, what an age is this I 
O wicked, oh vile race! — oh impious man! 

Sof. to Canthara.'] Ah, why fhould Geta feem thus 
terrified. 
And agitated ? 

Geta, to bimfelf.] Wretch! whom neij:her honour, 
Nor oaths, nor pity could controul or move ! 
Nor her approaching labour-, her, on whom 
He fhamefuUy committed violation ! 

Sof. I don't well underftand him. 

Can. Prithee then 
Let us draw nearer, Softrata I 

Get a J to himfelf] Alas, 
I'm fcarcely in my perfect mind, I burn 

With 



T HE B ROT HER S. -7 

With fuch fierce anger.— Oh, that I had all 
That villain-family before me now. 
That I might vent my indignation on them. 
While yet it boils within me.— There is nothing 
I'd not endure to be reveng'd on them. 
Firll I'd tread out the {linking fnuff his father. 
Who gave the monfter being. — And then, Syrus, 
Who urg'd him to it, — how I'd tear him! — Firft, 
I'd feize him round the waift, and lift him high. 
Then dafh his head againft the ground, and ftrew 
The pavement with his brains. — For ^fchinus, 
I'd tear his eyes out, and then tumble him 
Headforemoft down fome precipice. — The reft 
I'd rulli on, drag, crufh, trample underfoot. 
But why do I delay to tell my miftrefs 
Thefe heavy news as foon as pofllble .'' [g^'^f^^' 

Sof. Let's call him back. — Ho, Geta ! 

Geta. Whofoe'er 
You are, excufe me.* 

Sof. I am Softrata. 
' Geta. Where, where is Softrata ? \_turns about. 1 I 

fought you, Madam ; 
Impatiently I fought you : and am glad 
To have encounter'd you thus readily. 

* Whofoe'er you are, excufe me.'\ and defignedly keep them in 

Geta's reply is bounded on a chat, fo that they might be lafl;- 

frolickfome,butill-natured cuf- ed when they came home, for 

torn, which prevailed inGreece 5 flaying out fo long. Dacier. 



tQ ftop the Haves in the ftreets, 



D 3 Sof, 



35 THE BROTHERS/^ 

Sof. What is the matter? why d'ye tremble thus? 

Geta. Alas ! 

Sof. Take breath! — But why thus mov'd, good Geta? 

Geta. We're quite 

Sof. Quite what ? 

Geta. Undone : We're ruinM, Madam. 

Sof Explain, for heaven's fake ! 

Geta. Ev'n now 

Sof What now ? 

Geta. -(Efchinus 

Sof What of ^fchinus ? 

Geta. Has quite 
Eilrang'd himfelf from all our family. 

Scf How's that ? confufion ! why ? 

Geta. He loves another. 

Sof. Wretch that I am ! 

Geta. Nor that clandeflinely j 
But fnatch'd her in the face of all the world 
From a procurer. 

Sof Are you fure of this ? 

Geta. Sure ? With thefe very eyes I faw it, Madam. 

Sof. Alas, alas ! What then can we believe ? 
To whom give credit ? — What ? our Efchinus ! * 

* What ? our JS/cbinus ? fpccics of beauty in poetry, af- 

{^c."^ 'Nojlrumm ^Jchinum ? tfSc. fords us a very elegant inflance 

There is fomething extremely of this irregular manner, which, 

touching in this manner of addrefling itfelf to the paffions, 

fpeaking. Shakefpeare, whofe afFeQs us more fenfibly than fet 

works contain examples of every forms of fpeech. The turn of 

cf 



THE BROTHERS, 39 

Our very life, our fole fupport, and hope ! 
Who fwore he could not live one day without her, 
And promis'd he would place the new-born babe 
Upon his father's lap, * and in that way 
Wring from him his confent to marry her ! 

Geta. Nay, weep not, miftrefs •, but confider rather 

of phrafe, in which Defdemona which Softrata here fpeaks of 
pleads for Caffio, is a good ^fchinus. 
^eal Similar to the way in 

What ? Michael Caffio ?— 

That came a wooing with you, and many a time. 
When I have fpoke of you difpraifingly. 
Hath ta'en your part, to have fo much to do 
To bring him in ! Othello. 

* Upon his father^ s lap.'] The ninth Iliad fays that his father 

Grecians, as foon as they had loaded him with curfes, and in- 

a child born, immediately put voiced the Furies, conjuring 

it on the grandfather's knee if them that no child of his fon 

he were living, Phanix in the might be placed on his knees. 



Mn TOTS y^vctciv oieiv ^(Pecsia&ixi <pt?,ov viov 
E« sfie^Bv yeyauTX' Iliad, I. ix. v. 453. 

Mr.Pope's tranflation not hav- liberty has been taken, of add- 
ng preferied that idea, the ing two lines. 

My Jlre ivitb curfes loads my hated head. 

And cries, " Te Furies ! barren be his hed.^' 

Never, dread fillers, never may I fee 

A child, his offspring, plac'd upon my knee 1 

See Pope's Iliad, b. 9. v. 582L. 

This cuftom did not prevail tranflated >«s play from the 
among the Romans: our au- Greek,judiciouflyprefervcs that 
thor, notwithfta'nciing, as he ufage. Dacier. 

D 4' What 



46 THE BROTHERS. 

What courfe were beft to follow : to conceal 
This wrong, or to difclofe it to fome friend ? 

Can. Difclofe it! Are yovi mad? Is this a thing 
To be difclos'd, d'ye think ? 

Geta. I'd net adviie it. 
For firfu, th^t he has quite abandoned ns. 
The thing itfelf declares. If we then make 
The ftory known, no doub.t but he'll deny it. 
Your reputation, and your daughter's life 
Will be endangered: or if he confefs. 
Since he affcdts another, 'twere not good 
Thathelliould wed your daughter. — For which reafpns^ 
Silence is requifite. 

Sof. Ah, no : not I. 

Ceta. What mean you ? 

Sof. To difclofe the whole, 

Geta. How, Madam ! 
Think what you are about. 

Sof. Whatever happens, 
The thing can't be in a worfe Hate than now» 
In the firfi place my daughter has no portion, 
And that which fhould have been her fecond dowry^ 
Is alfo loft-, andfhe can ne'er be giv'n 
In marriage as a vii;giru For the reft,. 
If he denies his former commerce with her, 
I have the ring he loft to vouch the fadt. 
I;i fhort, fince I am confcious to myfelf. 

That I am not to blame in this proceeding, 

Anci 



THE BROTHERS. 

And that no fordid love of gain, nor aught, 
Unworchf of my daughter or myfelf. 
Has raixt in this affairy I'll try it, Geta. 

Gcta. Well, I agree, 'rvvere better to difclofe it.* 



14 



* Well, I agTL'e ^l-jjere better 
to iifcloj'e ?'/.] Accedo, ut melius 
dicar. Nothirrg can be plainer 
than thefe words : Yet they 
have been the occafion of great 
preplexity to commentators and 
tranflators. Tvladam Dacier 
gives them a fenfe direflly op- 
polite to that which 1 have fol- 
lowed. Ah, qualkz vous /aire F 
je 'voui en prie changez de fertti- 
7nent. Echard, who keeps his 
eye more conftantly on the 
French tranflation than on the 
original, fays, much to the 
fame purpofe. £>'_>■£ thhik fa ? 
Pray think onU again. Cooke 
has it, Hoi.>j ? hi me advife you 
to think better of it. Wefterho- 
vius fuppofes Softrata to have 
appeared angry with Geta, and 
therefore explains ut melius dicas 
to fignify ut bona 'verba loqua- 
r is — that you may /peak mildly. 
Patrick judly thinking that this 
is too ftrained, and no facisfy- 
ing anfwer to Softrata ; and, 
from what follows, feeing the 
neceflity of explaining Geta's 
anfwer, fo as to make it imply 
an affent, fuppofes an elleipfis, 
and fupplies it thus. Accedo tibi, 
ut qui melius dicas. — 1 fuhmit to 
JQu, as you feem tp /peak av..v) 



morejujiice. All thefe interpre- 
tations are founded on the fup- 
pofition that melius is the ac- 
cufative governed by dicas. I 
have no doubt but that melius is 
here ufed adverbially, which 
will lead us to this eafy con- 
&T\x&.iox\, Accedo, melius ut dicas ; 
— / agree, that you may better 
tell it; implying Geta's coming 
into her opinion on the point in 
difpute. The remark of Do- 
natus on this paffage, ut con- 
feittiam, <velut qui melius pjojjhn. 
diccre, is certainly corrupted ; 
but if we read, as we are told 
it ftands in fome copies,, iiehai 
melius patens Jis dicer e, it will give 
the fame fenfe that I have fol- 
lowed. Eugraphius in his Ion? 
note on the words Hera, lacrumas 
mitte ! ijjeep not, mijlrejs ! plain- 
ly underftands them in this 
manner. But, as a greater au- 
thority than all commentators, 
I fnali appeal to Terence him- 
felf ; and fubmit the whole con- 
text, as it ftands in the orir:i- 
nal, to the judgment of the 

learned. Thefe verbal criti- 

cifrns are dry and unpleafant 
both to the writer and reader. I 
very frequently avoid them; 
but in ^ controverted paiTage, 
where 



42 THE BROTHERS, 

Sof. You then away, as faft as pofTible, 
And run to Hegio our good friend and kinfman, 
To let kim know the whole affair : for He 
Was the chief friend of my dear Simulus, 
And ever fhew'd much tendernefs for Us. 

Geta. And well he does, for no one elfe regards us. 

Sof. And you, good Canthara, away with hafte, 



^hcre the fenfe is materially dolence or arrogance not ta 
concerned, it would feem in- fubmit to them, 

G. Hera, lacrumas mitte, ac potius, quod ad hanc rem opu', porro 

profpice. 
Fatiamurne, an narremus cuipiam ? C. au, au mi homo fanun' es ? 
An hoc froferendum tibi ufquam efle videtur ? G. mihi quidem 

non placet. 
Jam primum, ilium alieno animo a nobis efle, res ipfa indicat. 
Nunc fi h.oz palam proferimusy ille inficias ibit, fat fcio ; 
Tua fama, & gnatse vita in dubium veniet. turn fi maxume 
Fateatur, cum amet aliam, non eft utile hanc illi dari. 
Quapropter, quoquo padlo tacito eft opus. S. ah, minime 

gentium : 
Non faciam. G. quid ages ? S. proferam. G. hem, mea Softrata, 

vide quam rem agas. 
S. Pejore res loco non potis eft elTe, quam in hoc, quo nunc 

fita eft. 
Primum indotata eft : tum pra^terea, quae fecunda ei dos erat, 
Periit: pro virgine dari nuptum non poteft : hoc relliquum eft. 
Si inficias ibit, teftis mecum eft annulus, quern amiferat. 
Poftremo, quando ego confcia mi fum, a me culpam hanc procul 

efle, nee 
Pretium, neque rem ullam intercefle ilia aut me indignam ; ex- 

periar, Geta. 
G. Quid iftic ? acccdo, ut melius dicas. S. tu, quantum poteft, 

abi, &c. 

And 



T HE BROTHERS. 4- 

And call a midwife ; that we may be fure 
Of her afllftance in the time of need. 

[^Exeunt feverally. 



SCENE III. 
D E M E A. 

Bern. Confufion ! I have heard that Ctefiplio 
•Was prefent with his brother at this riot. 
This is the fum of all my miferies, 
If He, even He, a fober, hopeful, lad. 
May be feduc'd into debaucheries. 
—But where lliall I enquire for him ? I warrant 
They have decoy'd him into fome vile brothel. 
That profligate perfuaded him, I'm fure. 
— But here comes Syrus. — I fhall know from him 
"What is become of Ctefipho. — And yet 
This rafcal's of the gang -, and if he once 
Perceives that I'm enquiring after him. 
He'll never tell, a villain ! — I'll take care 
To cover my defign. 



SCENE 



■'44. T H E B R O T H E R S. 

S C E N E IV. 

Enier SYRUS at another part of the Stage;, 

Syrus, to hmfeif.] We've juft difclos'4 
The whole of this affair to Micio, 
Exadly as it happen'd. I ne'er faw 
The good old gentleman more pleas'd. 

Dem. Oh heav'n. 
The folly of the man ! [lijiening. 

Syr us, to himfelf.'] He prais'd his fon ; 
Me, who concerted the whole fcheme, he thank'd^ 

Bern. I burft v/ith rage. [lijiening. 

Syrus, to himfelf.] He told the money down 
Immediately, and threw us in befide, 
To make an entertainment, a Half-Mina : 
"Which I've laid out according to my liking. 

Dcm. So ! If you'd have your bufmefs well difcharg'd. 
Commit it to this fellow ! 

Syms, over hearing.] Who's there ? Demea ! 
I did not fee you, Sir, How goes it ? 

Dem. How ? 
I can't fufficiently admire your condud:. 

Syriis., negligently.'] Silly enough, to fay the truth, 
and idle — 
'J'o feri\^Ms within.] Here ! hark ye, Dromo ! fee yon 



gut and fcale 



The 



THE BROTHERS. 4|[ 

The other fifh immediately : But let 
That large eel play a little in the water. 
When I return it Ihall be bon'd ; till then 
It muft not be. 

Dem. Are crimes like thefe 

Syriis^ to Demea.'] Indeed 
I like them not, and oft cry fhame upon them. 
'—To Servants within.'] See that thofe fait fiih are well 
foak*d, Stephanio ! 

l)em. Gods, is this done on purpofe ? Does he think 
'Tis laudable to fpoil his fon ? Alas ! 
I think I fee the day, when iEfchinus 
Shall fly for want, and lift himfclf a foldier. 

Syrus. O Demea ! That is to be wife : To fee 
Not that alone which lies before your feet, 
But ev'n to pry into futurity. 

Dem. What? is the Mufick-Girl at your houfe? 

Syrus. Ay, 
Madam's within. 

Dem. What! and is ^fchinus 
To keep her at home with him I 

Syrus. I believe fo ; 
Such is their madnefs. 

Dem. Is it polTible ? 

Syrus. A fond, and foolifli father ! 

Dem. I'm afham'd 

To own my brother. I'm griev d for him. 

Syrus. Ah ! 

Thre 



'46 THE BROTHERS. 

There is a deal of difference, Demea, 
— Nor is't, becaufe you're prefent, that I fay this 
There is a mighty difference between you ! 
You are, from top to toe, all over wifdom : 
He, a mere dotard. — Would you e'er permit- 
Tour boy to do fuch things ? 

ID em. Permit him ? I ? 
Or Ihould I not much rather fmell him out 
Six months before he did but dream of it ? 

Syrus. Plhaw ! do you boaft your vigilance to Me ? 

Dcm. Heav'n keep him ever, as he is at prefent ! 

Syrus. As fathers form their children, fo they prove. 

Dem. But, prithee, have you Iten the lad to-day? 

[with an affe5ied carelefsnefs. 

Syrus. Your fon, d'ye mean? — I'll drive him out of 
town. \_afide. 

He's hard at work upon your grounds by this time. 

[to Demea. 

Dem. Ay ? Are you fure he's gone into the country ? 

Syrus. Sure ? I fet out with him myfelf. 

Dem. Good ! good ! 
I was afraid he loiter'd here. [(^tde. 

Syrus. And much 
Enrag'd, I promife you. 

Dem. On what account ? 

Syrus. A quarrel with his brother at the Forum, 
About the Mufick-Girl. 

Dcm, 



THE BROTHERS. 45? 

Vem. Indeed? 

Syrus. Ay, faith: 

He did not mince the matter : he fpoke out. 

For as the cafh was telling down, in pops. 

All unexpefted, Mafter Ctefipho : 

Cries out, — " Oh ^fchinus, are thefe your courfes ? 

" Thefe your perfuits ? enormities like thefc ? 

" Oh fhame ! oh fcandal to our family I" 

Dem. Oh, oh, I weep for joy. 
Syrus. " You fquander not 

" The money only, but your life, your honour.** 

Dem. Heav'n blefs him ! He is like his anceftors. 

Syrus. Father's own fon, I warrant him. 

Dem. Oh, Syrus ! 
He's full of all thofe precepts, He ! 

Syrus. No doubt on't : 
He need not go from home for good inftrudion. 

Dem. Ifparenopainsj negled no means: I train him. 
— In fhort I bid him look into the lives 
Of all, as in a mirror, and thence draw 
From others an example for himfelf 
— « Do this." 

Syrus. Good 1 

Dem. " Fly that." 

Syrus. Very good ! 

Dem. " This deed 

^ *' Is 



^^^8 THE BROTHER S. 

" Is highly commendable." 

Syrus. That's the thing ! 

Dem. " That's reprehenfible.'* 

Syrus. Moft excellent ! 

Dem. " And then moreover " 

Syrus. Faith, I have not time 
To give you further audience juft at prefent* 
I've got an admirable difh of fifh ; 
And I muft take good care they are not fpoilt* 
For that were an offence as grievous, Demea, 
In Us, as 'twere in You to leave undone 
The things you jufl: now mention'd: and I trj-, • 
According to my weal^ abilities, 
To teach my fellow-flaves the feif-fame way. 
— " This is too fait. — This is burnt-up too much. 
— -" That is not nice and cleanly. — That's well done. 
" Mind and do fo again." — I fpare no pains. 
And give them the bell precepts that I can. 
In fhort, I bid them look into the difhes, 
As in a mirror, Demea, and thence learn 
The duty of a cook. — This fchool of OLir's, 
I own, is idle : but what can you do ? 
According to the man muft be the lefTon, 
-— Vv^ould you aught elfe with us ? 

Dem. Your reformation. 

Syrus. Do you go hence into the country ? 

Dem. Straight. 

Syrus. 



THE BROTHERS. 49 

Syrus. For what fhould you do here, where nobody. 
However good your precepts, cares to mind them ? 

[Exit, 

SCENE V. 
D E M E A alone. 

I then will hence, fince he, on whofe account j 

I hither came, is gone into the country. 

He is my only care, He^s my concern. 

My Brother, fmce he needs will have it Co, 

May look to i^chinus himfelf. — But who } 

Is com;ng yonder? Hegio, of our tribe ? * 

If I fee plainly, beyond doubt 'tis he. 

Ah, we've been old acquaintance quite from boys ; 

And fuch men now-a-days are wondrous fcarce. 

A citizen of antient faith and virtue ! 

The commonwealth will ne'er reap harm from Him,' 

How I rejoice to fee but the remains 

Of this old ftock ! Ah, life's a pleafure now. 

* Hegio, of i)ur tribe.'] We It Is probable that this rumker 

are told that the Athenians were was derived from the twelve 

divided into tribes, but writers months of the year: for we find 

are not agreed as to their num- that there were alfo in every 

ber. Some fay twelve, in imi- tribe thirty fubdivifions, allud- 

tation of the Jewifh tribes : but ing to the number of days Ib % 

what connexion was there be- month. Patrick. 
tween the Athenians and Jews ? 

Vot.JI. E J'll 



5d THE BROTHERS. 

I'll wait, that I may afk about his health. 
And have a little converfation with him. 

SCENE VI. 
Enter H E G I O and G E T A converfing. at a dijtance, 

Hegio, Good heav'n ! a moft unworthy adlion, Geta \ 
Can it be true ? 

Geta. Ev'n fo. 

Hegio. A deed lb bafc 
Sprung from that family ? — Oh j^fchinus. 
This was not ading like your father. 

Demea^ behind^] So ! 
He has jufl heard about this Mufick-Girl, 
And is affefted at it, tho* a ftranger, 
"While his good father truly thinks it nothing. 
Oh monflrous ! wou'd that he were fomewhere nighj^ 
And heard all this ! 

Hegio. Unlefs they do you juftice. 
They fhall not carry off the matter thus. 

Geta. Our only hope is in You, Hegio. 
You're our fole friend, our guardian, and our father. 
On his death-bed, the good old Simulus 
Bequeath'd us to your care, li yen defert us. 
We are undone indeed. 
Hegio. Ah, name it not | 

'■ . - IwiH. 



THE BROTHERS. 51 

1 will not, and, with honefty, I cannot. 

Dem. I will accoft him^ — Save you, Hegio ! 

Hegio. The man I look'd for. — Save you, Demea ! 

Dem. Your pleafure ? 

Hegio. iEfchinus, your elder Ion, 
Your brother's by adoption, has committed 
A deed unworthy of an honeft man. 
And of a gentleman. 

Dem. How fo ? 

Hezio. You knew 
Our friend and good acquaintance, Simulus ? 

Dem. Ay, fure. 

Hez'io. He has debauch'd his daughter, 

Dem. How] 

Hegio. Hold, Demea-, for the worit is ftill to come, 

Dem. Is there aught worfe ? 

Hegio. Much woiTe : for this perhaps 
Might be excus'd. The night, love, wine, and 

youth 
Might prompt him. 'Tis the frailty of our nature, 
— SocHi as his fenfe returning made him coniciqus 
Of his rafh outrage, of his own accord 
He came to the girl's mother, weeping, praying, 
Intreating, vowing conftancy, and fwearing 
That he would take her home. — He was forgiven ; 
The thing conceal'd; and his vows credited. 
The girl from that encounter prov'd vvith child : 

E 2 This 



S2 THE BROTHERS. 

This is the tenth month,* — He, good gentleman. 
Has get a Mufick-Girl, heav'n blefs the mark ! 
With whom he means to live, and quit the othep. 
Dem. And are you well alTur'd of this ? 
Hegio. The mother, 
The girl, the fad itfelf, are all before you. 
Joining to vouch the truth on't. And befides. 
This Geta here— as fervants go, no bad one. 
Nor given up to idlenefs — maintains them ; 
The Ible fupport of all the family. 
Here take him, bind him, force the truth from him. 
Geta. Ay, torture me, if 'tis not fo, good Demea! 
Nay, ^fchinus, I'm fure, will not deny it. 
Bring me before him. 

Bern. qfide.'\ I'm alham'd: and what 
To do, or what to fay to him, I know not. 

Pamphila, within.'] Ah me! I'm torn in pieces!--^ 
Racking pains ! -j- 
Juno Lucina, help me ! fave, I pray thee ! 
Hegio. Ha ! Is Ihe then in labour, Geta ? 

• This is the tenth month.'] tions of decency, though cer- 

Lunar months : the common tainly confidered as no inde- 

method of computation before corum in thofe days, I fhall not 

Julius Csefar. Wester Hovi us. defend the pradice ; but cannot 

A. JL / frf T rri,. - , ^^^P obferving, that allowing 

t Mm/ ^c] Thzsisthe f,,h an incident, Terence in 

fecondinftance in our author of jhe prefent inftance makes a 

the outcries of a woman in la- ^^ft pathetick and oratorical 

DOur: a circumltance not eafily ^fg ^f j^ 
to be reconciled to modern no- 

Ceta^ 



T H E B R O T H E R S. 53 

Geta. Yes, Sir. 

Hegio. Hark! fhe now calls upon your juftice, 
Demea ! 
Grant her then freely, what law elfe will claim. 
And heaven fend, that you may rather do 
What honour bids ! But if you mean it not, 
Be fure of this; that with my utmoil force 
I'll vindicate the girl, and her dead father. 
He was my kinfman: * we were bred together 
From children; and our fortunes twin'd together 
In war, and peace, and bitter poverty. 
Wherefore I'll try, endeavour, ftrive, nay lofe 
My life itfelf, before I v/ill forfake them. 
—What is your anfwer ? 

Be7n. I'll find out my brother : 
What he advifes, I will follow, Hegio. f 

Hegio. But ilill remember, Demea, that the more 
You live at eafe-, the more yourpow'r, your wealth, 

* He ivas Ply kinfman.'] In Me- familiar occafions. There is no 

nander, Hegio was the brother impropriety in it here, and the 

ofSolirata. Westerhovjus. foregoing hemiftich is rather 

lame without it. The propriety 

f What he ad'vifes, livillfol- of confultingMicio, or Demea's 

loiu, Hegio. 1 ^od mihi de hac prefcnt ill-humour with hiiri, 

re dederit coTiJjlium, id fequar. are of no confequence. The old 

Madam Dacier rejeds this line, man is furprized at Hegio's 

becaufe it is alfo to be found in ftory, does not know what to 

thePhormio. Butit is nouncom- do or to fay, and means to e- 

mon thing with our author to vade giving a pofitive anfwer, 

ufe the fame expreffion or verfe by faying that he would conlult 

in different places, efpecially on his brother. 

E 3 Your 



54 TH£ BROTHERS. 

Your riches, and nobility ^ the more 

It is your duty to ad honourably. 

If 70U regard the name of honeft men. 

Dem. Go to: we'll do youjuftice. 

Hegio. 'Twill become you. 
Geta, conduct me into Softrata. \^Exii with Gets. 

SCENE VII. 
P E M E A alone. 

This is no more than I foretold : and well 

If his intemperance wou'd flop here ! — But this, 

Immoderate indulgence muft produce 

Some terrible misfortune in the end. 

— I'll hence, find out my brother, tell my news. 

And empty all my indignation on him. \^ExiL 

SCENE VIII.* 
Re-enter HEGIO, /peaking to Soflrata at the Dsor. 

Be of good cheer, my Softrata ; and comfort. 
As much as in your pow'r, poor Pamphila ! 

• Scene Fill.] Donatus tells that it appears to mc, if not 

us, that in feme old copies, this fuppofititious, at lead cold and 

whole fcene was wanting. Guy- fuperfluous, and the fubftance 

ecus therefore entirely rejefts it. of it had better have been fup- 

I have not ventured to take pofed to have pafled between 

that liberty J but mufl con fefs, Hegio and Softrata within. 

I'll 



T H E B R O T H E R S. 5^ 

I'll find out Micio, if he's at the Forum, 
And tell him the whole ftory : if he'll a6t 
With honour in it, why 'tis well -, if not, 
Let him but fpeak his mind to me, and chen 
J lliall know how to ad accordingly. [ExiL 



E 4 ACT 



S6 THE BROTHERS. 



A C T IV. SCENE I. 
CTESIPHO, SYR US. 

Cte/. 1\ yf Y father gone into the country, fay you ? 
X ▼ A. Syrus. Long fince. 

Ctef. Nay; fpeak the truth ! 

Syrus. He's at his farm, 
And hard at work, I warrant you. 

Oef. I wilh. 
So that his health were not the worfe for it. 
He might fo heartily fatigue himfelf. 
As to be forc'd to keep his bed thefe three days ! 

Syrtis. I wifh fo too ; and more, if poflible. 

Cief. With all my heart : for I wou'd fain confumCj 
As I've begun, the live-long day in pleafure. 
Nor do I hate that farm of our's fo much 
For any thing, as that it is fo near. 
For if 'twas at a greater diftance, night 
Would come upon him, ere he could return. 
But now, not finding me, Vm very fure 
He'll hobble back again immediately •, 
Queflion me where I've been, that I've not feen him 

A!} 



T H E B R O T H E R S. 57 

All the day longi and what fhall I reply ? 

Syrus. What ? can you think of nothing ? 

Ctef. No, not I. 

Syrus. So much the worfc.— Have you no client, 
friend, 
Or gueft ? 

Ctef. I have. What then ? 

Syrus. You've been engag'd 
,With theni. 

Ctef. When not engag'd ? It cannot be. 

Syrus. It may. 

Ctef Ay marry, for the day I grant you. 
But if I pafs the night here, what excufe 
Then, Syrus ? 

Syrus. Ah ! I would it were the cuftom 
To be engag'd at night too with one's friends ! 
— But be at eafe ! I know his mind fo well. 
That when he raves the loudeft, I can make him 
As gentle as a lamb. 

Ctef How fo I 

Syrus, He loves 
To hear you prais'd. I fing your praifcs to him. 
And make you out a little God. 

Ctef Mel 

Syrus. You. 
And then the old man blubbers like a child. 
For very j oy.— But have a care ! [looking epJ. 

Cuf 



5^ THE BROTHERS. 

Ctef, What now? 

Syrus. The wolf i'th* fable!* 

Ctef. What, my father ? 

Syrus, He. 

Ctef, What's ihe beft, Syrus ? 

Syrus. In ! fly ! I'll take care. 

Qef. You have not fcea me, if he afks: d'ye 

hear ? 
'^yrus. Can't you be quiet? [pujhes out Ctefipho, 

SCENE II. 

Enter D E M E A at another part of the Stage, 

Vem. Verily, I am 
A moft unhappy man ! for firft of all, 
I cannot find my brother any where : 
And then befides, in looking after him, 
I chanc'd on one of my day-labourers, -f- 
Who had but newly left my farm, and told mc 
Ctefipho was not there. What ihall I do ? 



* Tie ivolfin thefahle.'] Lu- f / chanc'd on one of my day' 

fus in fahula. A proverb, i<i^ourers .'[ The poet artfully 

r -r • 1 , ^ ^ contrives to detain Demea in 

iignifymg that the perfon of ^ , • r l • 

^ "^ ° ^ town, his pretence being ne- 

whom wc are fpeaking, is at ceflary in the fubfequent part of 

hand. the fable. Donatus. 

Ctefipho J 



59 



% 

^ 



THE BROTHERS. 

Ckfipho, peeping out.'] Syrus ! 

Syrus. What ? 

Ctcf. Does he fcek me ? 

Syrus. Yes. 

Ctef. Undone ! 

Syrus. Courage ! 

Demeay to himfelf.] Plague on it, what ill luck 
is this ! 
I can't account for it: but I believe 
That I was born for nothing but misfortunes* 
I am the firft who feels our woes j the firft 
Who knows of them -, the firft who tells the news ; 
And come what may, I bear the weight alone. 

Syrus, behind.'] Ridiculous! he fays he knows all firft; 
And he alone is ignorant of all. 

Dem. I'm now return'd to fee if Micio 
Be yet come home again. 

Ctef. peeping out.] Take care, good Syru^ 
He don't rufh in upon us unawares ! 

Syrus. Peace! I'll take care. 

Ctef. 'Faith, I'll not truft to you. 
But fiiut myfelf and her in fome bye place 
Together: that's the fafeft. 

Syrus. Well, away ! [Ctefipho difappears 

I'll drive the old man hence, I warrant you. 
- Bern, feeing Syrus.] But fee that rafcal Syrus coming 
hither ! 

SyruSy 



> ^ 



So THE BROTHERS. 

Syrus, advancing hajtily, and pretending not to fee 
Demea.] By Hercules, there is no living here. 
For any one, at this rate. — I'd fain knov/ 
How many maflers I'm to have. — Oh r^onftrous ! 

Dem. What does he howl for ? what's the mean- 
ing on*t ? 
Hark ye, my good Sir ! prithee tell me, if 
My brother is at home. 

Syrus. My good Sir ! Plague ! 
Why do you come with your Good Sirs to me ? 
I'm half kiU'd. 

Dent. What'? the matter ? 

Syrus, What's the matter ! 
Ctefipho, vengeance on him, fell upon mc. 
And cudgel'd me and the poor Mufick-Girl 
Almoft to death, 

Dem. Indeed? 

Syrus. Indeed. Nay fee 
How he has cut my lip ! [pretending tojhcw //. 

Dem. On what account ? 

Syrus. The girl, he fays, was bought by my 
advice. 

Dem. Did not you fay you faw him out of towr^ 
A little while ago ? 

Syrus. And fo I did. 

But he came back foon after, like a madman. 

He had no mercy. — Was not he afliam'd 

To beat a poor •Id fellow? to beat Me 5 

Who 



THE BROTHERS, 61 

Who bore him in my arms but t'other day, 
An urchin thus high ? [Jhewing. 

Dem. Oh rare, Ctefipho ! 
Father's own Ton ! A man, I warrant hirrt 

Syrus. Oh rare, d'ye cry ? I'faith if he is wife. 
He'll hold his hands another time. 

Dem. Oh brave ! 

Syrus, Oh mighty brave, indeed! — Becaufe he beat 
A helplefs girl, and me a wretched flave. 
Who durft not ftrike again"; — oh, to be fure. 
Mighty brave truly ! 

Bern, Oh, moll exquifite ! 
My Ctefipho perceiv'd as well as T, 
That you were the contriver of this bufinefs^ 
— But is my brother here ? 

Syrus. Not he. [fulkify. 

Dem. I'm thinking 
Where I fhall feck him. 

Syrus. I know where he is : 
But I'll not tell. 

Dem. How, firrah ? 

Syrus. Even fo. 

Dem. I'll break your head. 

Syrus. I cannot tell the name « 

Of him he's gone to, but I know the place, 

Dem. Well, where's the place } 

Syrus, D'ye know the Portico 

Juft 



62 THE BROTHERS. 

Juft by the market, down this way ? [pointing, 

Bern. I do. 

Syrus. Go ftraight along that flreet: and at the end 
You'll fee a hill •, go ftraight down that : and then 
On this hand, there's a chapel; and juft by 
A narrow lane. [j)vmti?ig. 

Dem. Where ? \l(wking, 

Syrus. There -, by the great wild fig-tree. 
D'ye know it, Sir ? 

Dem. I do. 

Syrus. Go through that lane. » 

Dem. That lane's no thoroughfare. 

Syrtis. Ay, very true : 
No more it is. Sir. — What a fool I am ! 
I was miftaken. — You muft go quite back 
Into the Portico •, and after all, 
This is the neareft and the fafeft way. 
— D'ye know Cratinus' houfe ? the rich man ? 

Dem. Ay. 

Syrus. *When youVe pafs'd that, turn fliort upon 
the left. 
KJeep ftraight along that ftreet, and when you reach 

* Whe7i youi'e fafs'd that, *« hand at the next turning> but, 

turj] Jhort upon the left, ^c] It " at the next turning of all, on 

is obferved by Theobald in his " your left; marry, at the rery 

edition of Shakefpeare, that the " next turning of no hand, but 

perpJextdireftion given by Lan- << turn down indirectly to the 

celot feems to be copied from « Jew's houfe." 
this of Syrus. ^ Merchant of Venice. 

**■ Tarn up on your right ' . ^ 

o Dianas 



T H E B R O T H E R S; 6^ 

Diana's Temple, turn upon the right : 
And then, on this fide of the city-gate,* 
Juft by the pond, there is a baker's fhop^ 
And oppofite a joiner's. — There he is. 

Dem. What bufinefs has he there ? 

Syrus. He has befpoke 
Some tables to be made of oaken legs,-f^ 
To Hand the fun. 

Dem. For you to drink upon. 

Oh brave ! But I lofe time. I'll after him; 

[Exii haftiljl 

SCENE III. 
SYRUS alons. 



Ay! go your ways! I'll work your old fhrunk fhanks 
As you deferve, old Drybones! — ^fchinus 
Loiters intolerably. Dinner's fpoil'd. J 



* The city-gate, juji hy the 
pond,'] This gives us to under- 
Hand that Demea would be fent 
quite to the further part of the 
town. — The pond aJfo is natu- 
rally mentioned, for Varro tells 
us, that near the gate was always 
a large pond, to water horfes, 
and fupply the inhabitants ia 
cafe of fire. Don at us. 

f Tables ivith oaken iegs."] It 
was ufual with the Grecians to 
fit and drink in the fun. Svrus 



therefore being aflced a fud<3cn 
qweftion, is fuppofed to have 
fuihcient prefence of mind to 
give this circunxftantial anfv?er, 
that he might the better impofe 
on Demea. Donatus. 

\D'inncr''sfpoird.'\ TheGreeks 
and the Romans generally had 
but one repaft a day, which was 
their fupper. The dinner here 
mentioned was therefore an in- 
fiance of luxury and debauch. 
Dacisr, 

Ctelipho 



^4 T H E B R O T H E R S, 

Ctefipho thinks of nothing but his girl. 

*Tis time for me to look to myfelf too. 

Faith, then I'll in immediately •, pick out 

All the tid-bits, and toffing off my cups. 

In lazy leifure lengthen out the day. [Exih 

SCENE IV. 
Enter MI C I O, ^;^^ H E G I O. 

Micio. I can fee nothing in this matter, Hegio> 
Whcrem I merit fo much commendation. 
*Tis but my duty, to redrefs the wrongs. 
That we have caus'd: unlefs perhaps you took me 
For one of thofe, who, having injur'd you, 
Term fair expoftulation an affront ; 
And having firft offended, are the firft 
To turn accufers. — I've not aded thus : 
And is't for this that I am thank*d ^ 

Hegio. Ah, no; 
I never thought you other than you are. 
But let me beg you, Micio, go with me 
To the young woman's mother, and repeat 
Yourfelf to Her what you have juft told Me: 
—That the fufpicion, fall'n on iEfchinus, 
Sprung from his brother and the Mufick-Girl; 

Mtcio. If you believe I ought, or think it needful. 

Let's go 1 

HegiOi, 



THE BROTHERS. 63 

^leg/v. 'Tis very kind in you : for thus 
You'll raife her fpirit drooping with the load 
Of o-rief and mifery, and have perform'd 
Ev'ry good office of benevolence. 
But if you like it not, Til go myfelf. 
And tell her the whole ftory. 

Afido. No, I'll go. 

Hegio. 'Tis good and tender in your nature, Micio* 
*For theyj whofe fortunes are lefs profperous, 
Are all, I know not how, the more fufpicious ; 
And think themfeives negle6i:ed and contemn'd, 
Becaufe of their diilrefs and poverty. 
Wherefore I think 'twould fatisfy them niore. 
If you would clear up this affair yourfelf. 

Micio. What you have faid is jufl, and very true* 

Hegio. Let me condufl you in ! 

Micio. With all my heart. [E::ctuit. 



* For they, ijjhafe fortune s<^l£c.'\ lines of Menander. If fo, I 
This fine fentiment is fiippofed think our poet has iinproVcd on 
to be built on the following his original. 

The poor man in all things aifls fearfully^ 
Snfpefting all defpife him. But the man 
Who's more at eafe, with greater conftancy 
Bears up againll misfortunes, Lamprias ! 



Vol. IL F SCENE 



6S THE BROTHERS, 

SCENE V. 
.E S C H I N U S alone. 

Oh torture to my mind ! that this misfortune 

Should come thus unexpefledly upon me ? 

I know not what to do, which way to turn. 

Fear fhakes my limbs, amazement fills my foul. 

And in my breall defpair fliuts out all couniel. 

Ah, by what means can I acquit myfelf ? 

Such a fufpicion is now fallen on me ; 

And that fo grounded on appearances. 

Softrata thinks that on my own account 

[ bought the Mufick-Girl. That's plain enough 

From the old nurfe. For meeting her by chance. 

As fhe was fent from hence to call a midwife, 

I ran, and afk'd her of my Pamphila. 

— " Is fhe in labour? are you going now 

" To call a midwife?" — " Go, go, i^fchinus! 

*' Away, you have deceiv'd us long enough, 

" Fool'd us enough with your fine promifcs,'* 

Cried (he. — " What now?" fays I. — " Farewel, enjoy 

" Tlie girl that you're fo taken with!" — I faw 

Immediately their caufeof jealoufy : 

Yet I contain'd myfelf, nor would difclofe 

My brother's bufinefs to a tattling goffip. 

By whom the knowledge on't might be betray'd. 
. ' -But 



THE BROTHERS. e-^ 

— But what lliall I do now ? lliall I confefs 

The girl to be my brother's ; an affair 

Which fhould by no means be reveal'd ? — But not 

To dwell on that.— Perhaps they'd not difclofe it : 

Nay I much doubt if they would credit it : 

So many proofs concur againft Myfelf. — 

I bore her off \ I paid the money down •, 

She was brought home to Me. — All this, I own, 

Is my own fault. For fliould I not have told 

My father, be it as it might, the whole .? 

I fhould, I doubt not, have obtain'd his leave 

To m.arry Pamphila. — What indolence, 

Ev'n till this hour ! now ^Efchinus, awake ! 

— But firft ril go, and clear myfelf to Them.' 

I'll to the door. \^goes up.] — Confufion ! how I tremble ! 

How guilty-like I feem, when I approach 

This houfe! [knocks.] Hola! within! 'TisI; 

'Tis i^fchinus. Come, open fomebody 

The door immediately! — Who's here.'' A flranger! 

I'll ftep afide. • Irelires. 

SCENE VI. 
EnUr M I C I O, 

Micio, to Sojlrata within.] Do as I've told you, 
Softrata. 
I'll find out i^fchinus, and tell him all. 

F X ^-Bur 



6S T H E B R O T H E R S. 

— But who knock'd at the door? [coming forward. 

jSfch. behind.'] By heav'n! my father! 
Confufion ! 

Micio, feeing him.'] ^fcliinvis ! 

j^fch. What does he here ? {nftde. 

Micio. Was't you that knock'd?--What, not a 
word ! Suppofe 
I banter him a little. He deferves it, 
For never trufting this affair to me. [_afide. 

—Why don't you fpeak ? 

Mfch> Not 1, as I remember. {diforder'd. 

Micio. No, I dare fay, not you : for I was wond'ring 

What bufmefs could have brought you here.' He 

blufnes. 
All's fafe, I find. . {ojide. 

JEfch. recovering?^ But prithee, tell me, Sir^ 
What brought you here ? 

Micio. No bufmefs of my own. 
But a friend drew me hither from the Forum, 
To be his advocate. 

Mfch. In what ? 

Micio. I'll tell you. 
This houfe is tenanted by fome poor women, 
^ Whom, I believe, you know not-,~Nay, I'm fure on% 
For 'twas but lately they came over hither. 

JEfch. Well ? 

Micio. A young woman and her mother. 

Mfch. Well.? 

/^ Micio, 



THE BROTHERS. 69 

Micio. The father's dead.— This friend of mine, it 
feems. 
Being her next relation, by the law 
Is forc'd to marry her.* 

jEfch. Confufion! [^aftde. 

Micio. How ? 

jEfch. Nothing.-- -Well? — pray go on, Sir! — . 

Micio, He's now come 
To take her home, for he is of Miletus, f 

JEfch. How ! take her home with him ? 

Micio. Yes, take her home. 

yEfch. What ! to Miletus ? 

Micio. Ay. V'.' 

^fch. Oh torture! [^/i^.]— Well.^ 
What fay the women ^ 

Micio. Why, what 7^<7^'^ they ? Nothing. 
Indeed the mother has devis'd a tale 
About her daughter's having had a child 
By fome one elfe, but never mentions whom : 
His claim, Ihe fays, is prior ; and my friend 

* By the la~jj is forc'd to marry ivife unto one of the family of the 

her.'\ This appears in many in- tribe of her father, that the 

ftances to have bgen a law in children of Ifrael may enjoy e'very 

force with the Athenians, and vian the inheritance of his fathers. 

was probably handed down to Numbers, Chap, xxxvi. v. 8. 

them by the PhcEnicians, who Dacier. 
Ofiginally received it from the 

Jews, ylnd e'very daughter that \ Miletus.'] A colony of the 

foffeffes an inheritance in any tribe Athenians in Pontus. Dona- 

pf ihe children of Ifrael, Jkall he Tus. 

F 3 Ought 



70 T H E B R O T H E R S. 

Ought not to have her. 

^fch. Well? and did not this 
Seem a fufficient reafon ? 

Micio. No. 

jEfch. No, Sir ? 
And fhall this next relation take her off? 

Micio, Ay, to be fure: why not? 

MJch. Oh barbarous, cruel ! 
And — to fpcak plainly. Sir, — ungenerous ! 

Micio. Why fo ? 

JF^ich. Whyfo, Sir!— What d'ye think 
Will come of Him, the poor unhappy youth 
Who was conneded with her firftj — who flill 
Loves her, perhaps, as dearly as his life •,— 
When he fhall fee her torn out of his arms, 
And born away for ever? — Oh fhame, fhame! 

Micio. Where is the Ihame on't? — * Who betroth'd, 
who gave her? 
When was fhe married? and,.to whom? Where is he. 
And wherefore did he wed another's right ? 

Mjch. Was it for Her, a girl of fuch an age. 
To fit at home, expelling till a kinfman 
Came, nobody knows whence, to marry her ? 
— This, Sir, it v/as your bufmefs to have faid, 

* Who heirotJi'd, £5ff.] Thefe delicate reproof of ^fchinus 

queftions, which enumerate all for the irregular and clandeftine 

the proofs requifite to a mar- manner/in which he had con- 

jiage,. are an indiredl, and very dufled this affair. Donatus. 

And 



THE BROTHERS. 71 

And to have dwelt on it. 

Micio. Ridiculous! 
Should I have pleaded againft Him, to whom 
I came an advocate ? — But after all, 
What's this affair to Us? or, what have we 
To do with them? let's go! — Ha! why thofe tears ? 

Mfch. Father, befeech you, hear me ! 

Micio. ^fchinus, 
I have heard all, and I know all, already: 
For I do love you •, wherefore all your actions 
Touch me the more. 

Mfch. So may you ever love me, 
And fo may I deferve your love, my father, 
As I am forry x.o have done this fault. 
And am alham'd to fee you ! 

Micio. I believe it ; 
For well I know you have a liberal mind \ 
But I'm afraid you are too negligent. 
For in what city do you think you live ? 
You have abus'd a virgin, whom the law 
J^'orbad your touching. — 'Twas a fault, a great onej 
But yet a natural failing. Many others. 
Some not bad men, have often done the fame. 
■ — But after this event, can you pretend 
You took the leafl precaution ? or confider'd 
What Ihou'd be done, or how? — If fhame forbad 
your telling me Yourfelf, you fnou'd have foun4 

F 4 ' Som^ 



7z T H E B R O T H E R S. 

Some other means to let me know of it. 
Loft in thefe doubts, ten months have dipt away. 
You have betray'd, as far as in you lay, 
Yourfelf, the poor young woman, and your child. 
"What! did you think the Gods woq'd bring about 
This bufmefs in your fleep ; and that" your wife. 
Without your ftir, wou'd be convey'd to you 
Into your bed-chamber? — I wou'd not have you 

Thus negligent in other matters. Come, 

Cheer up, fon ! you (liall wed her ! 

JEfch. How ! 

Micio. Cheer up, 
I fay ! 

jEfck. Nay, prithee, do not mock me, father I 

Micio. Mock you? I? wherefore?* 

j^Jch. I don't knowi unlefs 
That I fo much defire it may be true, 
I therefore fear it more, 

Micio. — Away ; go home \ 
And pray the Gods, that you may call your wife. 
Away 1 

JEfch. How*s that? my wife? what! now? ^ 

Micio. Now. 

* Mock you? I ? ivhrefare ?] enemy would buoy one up with 

We may very innocently banter falfe hopes, in order to daOi 

a friend, and frighten him with them with bitternefs and trouble, 

falfe alarms, when it is in our Micio therefore difcovers a be- 

power to undeceive him imme- nevolent emotion at even be- 

^iately.andto furprifc him with ing fuppofed to trifle with hun 

good news. But none but an in this refpedl. Donatus. 

j^fch. 



THE BROTHERS. 73 

JEfch. Now? 

Micio. Ev'n now, as foon as pofTible. 

Mfch. May all 
The Gods defert me, Sir, but I do love you. 
More than my eyes ! 

Micio. Than her ? 

jEfch. As well. 

Micio. That's much. 

uEfch. But where is that Milefian ? 

Micio. Gone: 
Vanilli'd: on board the Hiip. — But why d'ye loiter? 

^fch. Ah, Sir, you rather go, and pray the Gods; 
For, being a much better man than I, 
They will the fooner hear your pray'rs. * 

* The fooner hear jour prajiers.'l Hefiod, which fays that i( is 

Donatus obferves that there is the bufinefs of old men to pray, 

great delicacy in this compli- I Ihould rather imagine our au- 

ment of ^fchinus to Micio, thor had an eye to the follow- 

which, though made to his ing fine lines of Menander, which 

face, does not carry in it the have already been recpmmended 

Jeaft appearance of flattery, to the publick notice by the 

Madam Dacier imagines Te- learned critick in the Adveil- 

rence refers here to a line in turer. No. 105. 

T:tVj>u)p re tA«9o? n £p<$wi/, «, vn> Ai^, 
ETgpwv tojbIwv, V K:irxs-Aiva.cix.a.TO!. 
Kfivccc; -zotrax^ x^a.a'jSs; mt irop^pvpciii 
H Zt' ehi^ixiPioc, n aiJ.apa.y^'^ Zdi'Siccy 
Ei;vs;> vojjLilei Tov Objv na.'ii^cii'ai} 

Ae* yap toc ccvZ^a %pnsi[t.QV nrs^-anvxi t 
, Ml) •5rap6£vs^ 6j>'^ii)ovTa.i (J.n [i.'ity^aixev'iv, 

tiKiif.ovzx nxi a(pxTioTptU xpn.aaTwv ')^xpiV. 



74 THE BROTHERS. 

Micio. I'll in, 
To fee the needful preparations made. 
You, if you're wife, do as I faid. [Exit, 



SCENE VIL 
^ S C H I N U S alone. 

How's this ? 

Is this to be a father? Or is this 

To be a fon ? — Were he my friend or brother, 

Could he be more complacent to my wilh ? 

Should I not love him? bear him in my bofom ? 

Ah ! his great kindnefs has fo wrought upon me. 

That it Jhall be the ftudy of my life 

O yxf 0«3,- i3A£7rt< a ncy^mtov 'ra^uv. 

The man who facrifices, Pamphilus, 
A multitude of bulls, or goats, or fheep ; 
Or prepares golden vellments, purple raiment, 
J^igures of ivory, or precious gems ; 
Thinking to render God propitious to him, 
Moft grofly errs, and bears an empty mind. 
Let him be good and charitable rather. 
No doer of uncleannefs, no corrupter 
Of virgin innocence, no murd'rer, robber. 
In queft of gain. Covet not, Pamphilus, 
-j-Even a needleful of thread, for God, 
Who's always near thee, always fees thy deeds. 

•)■ This fcems to have been a proverbial exprtflion, as we find It occur In »n- 
cthei fragmeat of Meoandu'. 

To 



THE BROTHERS. 75 

To Ihiin all follies, * left they give him pain. 

But wherefore do I loiter here, and thus 

Retard my marriage by my own delay ? [&'/, 

SCENE VIII. 

D E M E A fJone. 



I've walk'd, and walk'd, till I'm quite tir'd with 

walking. 
— Almighty Jove confound you, Syrus, I fay. 
You and your blind direftions ! I have crawl'd 
All the town over: to the gate j the pond-. 
Where not ^ No fign of any fhop was there. 
Nor any perfon who had feen my brother. 



* To Jhun all follies. ] Do- 
natus jiiftly obferves, that it is 
plain from this foliloquy that 
Terence takes the part of mild 
fathers, meaning to fhevv that 
gentle reproofs, mingled with 
tendernefs, will have more ef- 
fecl: on an ingenuous mind than 
railing and fe verity. 7^hat cri- 
tick alfo is more minute than 
ufual in pointing out the great 
beauties of the foregoing fcene ; 
commenting on almoft every 
fpeech, and obferving how fine- 
ly the two charafters of Micio 
and ^fchinus are fuftained 
throughout their whole conver- 
fation. It was impoflible to lay 



before the Englifh reader all tTie 
little particularities dwelt upon 
by Donatus: and indeed the 
reader muft have very little fen- 
fibility, who cannot of himfelf 
difcern, even through the me- 
dium of this tranflation, the 
many aipiable touches of good- 
humour, mildnefs, and affeftt- 
on that diftinguifh Micio's cha- 
rafter, as well as the natural 
llrokes of paffion, and ingenu- 
ous fhame in JEfchinus. The 
whole fcene is remarkably beau- 
tiful, and perhaps more cha- 
racleriftick of the genius of Te- 
rence than any other in his 
works. 

— Now 



76 THE BROTHERS. 

— Now I'll in therefore, and fet up my reft 

In his own houfe, till he comes home again. {.Soing, 

SCENE IX. 
Enter M I C I O. 

Micio. I'll go and let tlie women know we're ready* 

Dem. But here he is.— I have long fought you, 
Micio. 

Micio. What now ? 

Dem, I bring you more offences; great ones 5 
Of that fweet youth » 

Micio. See there ! 

Dem. Newi capital ! 

Micio. Nay, nay, no more ! 

Dem. Ah, you don't know -• 

Micio. I do. 

Dem. O fool, you think I mean the Mufick-Girl. 
This is a rape upon a citizen. 

Micio. I know it. 

Dem. How? d'ye know it, and endure it ? 

Micio. Why not endure it ? 

Dem. Tell me, don't you rave ^ 
Don't you go mad ? 

Micio. No; to be fure I'd rather—' 

Dem. There's a child born. 

Micio. Heav'n blefs it ! 

Dem, 



THE BROTHERS. 77 

T)em. And the girl 
Has nothing. 

Micio. I have heard fo. 

Dem. And is He 
To marry her without a fortune .? 

Micio. Ay. ^-■-- 

Dem. V/hat's to be done then ? 

Micio. What the cafe requires. 
The girl fhall be brought over here. 

Bern. Oh Jove ! 
Can that be proper ? 

Micio. What can I do elfe ? 

Bern. Vvhat can you do?— If you're not really 
griev'd, 
It were at lead your duty to appear fo. 

Micio. I have contra6led the young woman to him : 
The thing is fettled: 'tis their wedding-day : 
And all their apprehenfions I've remov'd. 
This is dill more my duty. 

Dem. Are you pleas'd then 
With this adventure, Micio ^ 

Micio. Not at all, 
If I could help it: now 'tis paft all cure, 
I bear it patiently. The life of man* 



* The life of matt is like a tenth book of Plato's Republick, 
game at talks.] Menander where it is laid, " That we 
might pofiibly borrow this mo- " fhould take counfel from ac- 
ral maxim from a palTage in the " cidents, and, as in a g3me 

♦' at 



78 T H E B R O T H E R S, 

Is like a game at tables. If the call 

Which is moll neceflary, be not thrown, 

That, which chance fends, you mull corre6t by art. 

Dem. Oh rare CorreHorl — By your art no lefs 
Than Twenty Minas have been thrown away 
On yonder Mufick- Wench; who, out of hand. 
Mull be fent packing; if no buyer, gratis. 

Micio. Not in the leaft; nor do I mean to fell her.* 

Dem. What will you do then ! 

Micic. Keep her in my houfe. 

JDem. Oh heav'n and earth! a harlot and a wife 
In the fame houfe ? 

Micio. Why not ? 

Dem. Have you your wits ? 

Micio. Truly I think fo. 

Dem. Now, fo help me heav'n, 
Seeing your folly, I believe you keep her 
To fing with you. 

Mjcio. Why not ? 

Dem. And the young bride 
Shall be her pupil ? 

Micio. To be fure. 

Dem. And You 



" at dice, 2(51 according to * Net in the hajl, nor do 1 

** what has fallen, in that man- '''^^'^ '° >^^ ^''■'^ Micio is here 



*' ner which rcafon diredls 



involved in a ridiculous dilem- 



ma, ia which he had rather 
*' us to be the bed." Da- appgar abfurd, than betray 

CIER. Ctefipho. DONATUS. 

1 Dance 



T H E B R O T H E R S. y^- 

Dance hand in hand with them ? * 

Micio. Ay. 

Dem. Ay? 

jWcio. And You 
Make one amongil us too upon occafion. 

Dera. Ah ! arc you not afham'd on't ? 

Micio. Patience, Demea ! 
Lay by your wrath •, and feem, as it becomes yo«, 
Chearful and free of heart at your fon*s wedding. 
— I'll so and warn the bride and Softrata, 
And then- return to you immediately. [Exit. 

SCENE X. 

DEMEA ^lofie. 

Jf»ve, what a life ! what manners ! what diftrai^ion ! 
A Bride juft coming home without a portion -, 
A Mufick-Girl already there in keeping ; 
A houfe of wafte -, the youth, a libertine ; 
Th' old man, a dotard! — 'Tis not in the pow'r 
Of Providence herfelf, howe'er defirous. 
To fave from ruin fuch a family. 

• Dance hand in hand ijjith cord. — But why a cord? mjglit 

ihem.'\ Rifiim duUans faltahis. they not as well take hold of each 

Ri'Ji'nn ducere ; literally, to lead other's hands ? I am perfuaded 

the cord: which would induce that they did, and agree with 

one to imagine that when many Donatus that the expreflion is 

perfons were dancing toge- merely metaphorical. Dacier. 
:her la thofe days, they held a 

SCENE 



2y* THE B R O T Pi E R Se 

SCENE XL 

Enter at a dijiance S Y R U S drunk. 

Sjrus, to himfelf.'] Faith, little Syriis, youVe ta'en 
fpecial care 
Of your fweet felf, and play*d your part moll rarely ? 
— "Well, go your ways:— but having had my fill 
Of ev'ry thing within, I've now march'd forth 
To take a turn or two abroad. 

Dera. behhid.'] Look there ! 
A pattern of inftruflion ! 

Syriis^ feeing hhn.'] But fee there : 
Yonder's old Dcmea. [going to him.] What's the 

matter nov/ ? 
And why fo melancholy ? 

Dem. Oh thou villain ! 

Syrus. What! are you fpouting fentences, old 
Wifdom ? 

Dem. Were you my fervant 

Syrus. You'd be plaguy rich. 
And fettle your affairs moft v/onderfully, 

Dem. I'd make you an example. 

Syrus. Why ? for what ? 

Demi 



THE BROTHERS. Si 

Bern. Why, firrah? — *Inthemidftof this difturbance, 
And in the heat of a moft heavy crime. 
While all is yet confufion, you've got drunk. 
As if for joy, you rafcal ! 

Syrus, Why the plague 
Did not I keep within ? \_qfide, 

SCENE XIL 

Enter D R O M O hajlily. 

Dromo. Here ! hark ye, Syrus ! 
Ctefipho begs that you'd coine back. 

Syrus. Away ! [puj/jwg him. 

JDem. What's this he fays of Ctefipho ? 

Syrus. Plhaw ! nothing. 

Dem. How, dog, is Ctefipho within ? 

Syrus. Not he. 

Dem. Why does he name him then ? 

Syrus. It is another 
Of the fame name — a little parafite — 
D'ye know him ? 

Dem. But I will immediately. [going. 

Syrus, flopping him.] What now .? where now ? 

* /« the midft of this difturh- traft, and are admirably car 

ance, ^r.] The gravity of culated to excite mirth in the 

Demeaanddrunkennefsof^yrus fpcclators. Donatus. 
create a very humorous con- 

VOL. II. Q J),;;;^ 



S2 T H E B R O T H E R S. 

Dem. Let me alone, "j , 

Syrus. Don't go ! j fi^^^''"^- 

J)em. Hands off! what won*t you? mnft I braiil 
you, rafcal ? [dif engages himjelf from Syrus, 
end Exit. 

SCENE XIII. 
SYRUS alone. 

He's gone — gone in — and faith no welcome roarer—* 

— Efpecially to Ctefipho. — But what 

Can I do now i unlefs, till this blows over, 

I fneak into fome corner, and fleep off 

This wine that lies upon my head ? — I'll do't. 

\_Exit }'ee!ing'i 

SCENE XIV. 
EnUr M I C I O from Softrata. 

MiciOy to Sojirata within.'] All is prepar'd: and we 
are ready, Softrata, 
As I've already told you, when you pleafe. 

lucernes forward* 

* Ko ivelcome roarer. \ Co- party, burfting in upon' them 

m/jTatorem baud fane commodutn. unexpefledly with much noife 

The chief beauty lies in the and clamour. Donatus. 

word Com'iJfatoYy which rsgnified Da ci e r , 
one who came to join a jovial 

a ' But 



THE 



R O T H E R S. 



But who's this * forces open our ftreet-door 
With lb much violence ? 

Enter D E M E A on foih^r fide. 



Dem. Confufion ! death ! 
What {liall I do ? or how refolve ? where vent 
My cries and exclamations ? — Heav'n ! Earth ! Sea ! 

Mido, behi'/id.'] So! all's difcover'd: that's the thing 
he raves at. 
—-Now for a quarrel! — ^I mufl; help the boy. 

Dem. feeing him.'] Oh, there's the grand corrupter 
of our children ! 

Micio. Appeafe your wrath, and be yourfelf agaiiU 

Dem. Well, I've appeas'd it -, I'm myfelf again j 
I fpare reproaches; let us to the point ! 
li; v/as ugreed between us-, and it was 



* Forces open our Jlreet-door, 
^ffc] It has been obferved be- 
fore, that in Athens the ftreet- 
doors were made to open out- 
wards ; (o that Vv'hen any one 
was coming out, the hoife of 
the door (which is often menti- 
oned in thefe comedies) ferved 
to give notice to thofe in the 
llreet, that they rhight efcape 
being hurt, and make way for 
the opening oi the door. Da- 

CIER. 



f I muj} help the hoy.] The 
'charaifler of Micio appears ex- 
tremely amiable through the 
four firil: adls of this ccmedy, 
and his behaviour is in many 
refpedls worthy imitation. But 
his conduft in conniving at the 
irregularities of Ctefipho, and 
even affiiling him to fuppnrt 
them, is certainly reprehenfible. 
Perhaps the Poer threw this 
fhade over his virtues, on pur- 
pofe to fnev/ that mildncfs and 
good- humour might be carried 
to an excefs. 



G 2 



Your 



S4 THE BROTHERS. 

Your own propofal too, that you fhou'd never 
Concern yourfelf with Ctefipho, nor I 
With iEfchinus. Say, was't not fo ? 

Micio. It was : 
I don't deny it. 

Bern. Why does Ctefipho 
Revel with You then ? Why do you receive him ? 
Buy him a millrefs, Micio? — Is not juftice 
My due from you, as well as your's from me ? 
Since I do not concern myfelf with your's, 
Meddle not you with mine ! 

Micio. This is not fair ; 
Indeed it is not. Think on the old faying, 
*' All things are common among friends." 

Bern. How fmart ! 
Put off with quips and fentences at laft ? 

Micio. Nay, hear me, if you can have patiencej 
Demea. 
— Firft, if you're griev'd at their extravagance. 
Let this reflexion calm you ! Formerly, 
You bred them both according to your fortune, 
Suppofmg it fufficient for them both : 
Then too you thought that I fhou'd take a wife. 
Still follow the old rule you then laid down : 
Hoard, fcrape, and fave j do every thing you can 
To leave them nobly ! Be that glory your's. 
My fortune, fall'n beyond their hopes iiporv them. 

Let 



THE BROTHERS. 85 

Let them ufe freely ! As your capital 
Will not be wafted, what addition comes 
From mine, confider as clear gain : and thus. 
Weighing all this impartially, you'll fpare 
Yourfelf, and me, and them, a world of trouble. 

Dem. Money is not the thing : their morals — . 

Micio. Hold! 
I underfland; and meant to fpeak of that. 
* There are in nature fundry marks, good Demea, 
By which you may conjedure of men's minds ; 
And when two perfons do the felf-fame thing. 
May oftentimes pronounce, that in the one 
*Tis dangerous, in t'other 'tis not fo : 
Not that the thing itfelf is different. 
But he who does it. — In thefe youths I fee 
The marks of virtue ; and, I truft, they'll prove 
Such as we wifh them. They have fenfe, I know; 
Attention -, in its feafon, liberal fhame ; 
And fondnefs for each other ; all fure figns , 
Of an ingenuous mind and noble nature ; 



o 



* There are in nature, y^:,] matia, I cannot be of the in- 

Madam Dacier makes an ob- genious lady's opinion in this 

fervation on this fpeech fome- matter: for I think a more fen- 

thmg like that of Donatus on fible fpeech could not be made, 

one of Micio's above; and fays nor a better plea offered in fa- 

that Micio, being hard put to vour of the young men, than 

it by the real circumftances of that of Micio in the prefent in- 

the cafe, thinks to confound ftance. 
Demea by a nonfenfical gaJi- 



G 3 AncI 



^6 THE BROTHERS. 

And tho' they Itray, you may at any time 

Reclaim them. — But perhaps you fear, they'll prove 

Too inattentive to their interefl;. 

Oh my dear Demea, in all matters elle 

Increafe of years increafes wifdom in us : 

This only vice age brings along with it; ' 

*' We're all more worldly-minded, than there's need:'^ 

Which paffion age, that kills all paffions elfe^ 

Will ripen in your fons too. 

Vem. Elavc a care 
That thefe fine arguments, and this great mildoefs 
Don't prove the ruin of us, Micio ! 

Micio. Peace! 
It ftxall not be: away with all your fears ! 
This day be rul'd by me: come, fmooth your brow. 

Detn. Well, fmce at prefent things are fo, I muft. 
But then I'U to the country with my fon 
To-morrow, at firft peep of day. 

Mkio. At midnight. 
So you'll but fmile to-day, 

Bern. And that wench too 
I'll drag away with me. 

Micio. Ay i there you've hit it. 
For by thofe means you'll keep your fon at homej 
Do but fecure her. 

Dem. I'll fee that : for there 
I'll put her in the kitchen and the mill. 

And make her full of afhes, fmoak, and meal : 

Nav 



T H E B R O T H E R S. S; 

Nay at high noon too flie jQiall gather ftu-bble. 
I'll burn her up, and make her black as coal. 

Micio. Right! now you're wife. — And then I'd make 
my Ion 
Go to bed to, her, tho' againil his will. 

Dem. D'ye laugh at me ? how happy in your temper! 
I feel 

Micio. Ah ! that again ? 

Dein. I've done. 

Micio. In then ! 
jfVnd let us fuit our humour to the time. [Exeun4» 



G 4 ACT 



8S 



THE BROTHERS, 



♦♦♦♦'f***'************^^'*******-*******-^^**^'**** 



ACTV. SCENE L * 



D E M E A alone. 



NEVER did man lay down fo fair a plan, 
_ So wife a rule of life, but fortune, age. 

Or long experience made fome change in it ; 
And taught him, that thofe things he thought he knew. 



* Jil !;. Sten? I.] This fcene, 
which I have placed the firft of 
the fifth a6l, ftands in Madam 
Dacier's tranflation, and in all 
thofe editions and tranflations 
who have followed her, as the 
fecond. I think it is plain, 
from the end of the foregoing 
fcene, that Micio and Demea 
quitted the ftage, and entered 
the houfe together ; and it 
feems to be equally evident, 
frfJfei the meffage that Syrus 
brings to Demca in the fcene 
immediately fu-:ceeding this, 
that Demea had left the com- 
pany within. - Rcgat f rater f ne 
abeas loiigius- yoitr bi other begs, 
you'd not go further off. But 
what had ftill more weight with 
nie, and was a more forcible 
0»otive to induce me to begin 



the fifth a£l with this foliloquy, 
was the propriety, ar.d indeed 
neceffity of an interval in this 
place. The total change of 
charafter, whether real or affec- 
ted, is in itfelf fo extraordinary, 
that it required all the art of 
Terence to bring it about ; and 
the only probable method of 
efTedling it, is to fuppofe it the 
refult at leaft of fome little de- 
liberation, and reflexion on the 
inconveniencies he had experi- 
enced from a contrary temper. 
Donatus obferves the great art 
with which Terence has pre- 
ferved the gradation of Demea's 
anger and diflreffes, which can 
be pu filed no further than the 
difcovery of Ctefipho ; and this 
admirable climax of incidents, 
is finely completed in the fcene 
with 



THE BROTHERS. 8^ 

He did not know, and what he held as beft. 

In pradice he threw by. The very thing 

That happens to myfelf. For that hard life 

Which I have ever led, my race near run. 

Now in the laft ftage, I renounce : and why ? 

But that by dear experience I've been told. 

There's nothing To advantages a man. 

As mildneis and complacency. Of this 

My brother and myfelf are living proofs : 

He always led an eafy, chcarful life ; 

Good-humour'd, mild, offending nobody. 

Smiling on all •, a jovial batchelor, 

His whole expences center'd in himfelf. 

I, on the contrary, rough, rigid, crofs. 

Saving, morofe, and thrifty, took a wife : 

— What miferies did marriage bring! — had children? 

— A new uneafmefs ! — and then befides. 

Striving all ways to make a fortune for them, 

I have worn out my prime of life and health : 

with which I have clofed the fcititious fcenes, which he has 
fourth ad. To fay the truth, founded on the converfion of 
the fable itfelf in a manner ends Demca : a circumllance which 
there ; and though there is grows out of the foregoing in- 
much humour and pleafantryin cidents, and fupplies the ma- 
the remaining part of the play, terials for a pleafant fifth aft, 
yet many good criticks have like the Giving away the Rings 
objefted to it. Terence how- in Shakefpeare's Merchant of 
ever, or rather Menander, muft Venice, in which play alfo, as 
be allowed to have fhewn an well as this of Terence, the 
uncommon eitort of genius, if main bufinefs of the plot is con- 
not of judgment, in thefe ad- eluded in the fourth aft. 

And 



30 T H E B R O T H E R S, 

And now, my courfe near finifh'd, what return 
Do I receive for all my toil ? Their hate. 
Meanwhile my brother, without any care. 
Reaps all a father's comforts. Him they lovCj 
Me they avoid : to him they open all 
Their fecret counfels ; doat on him j and both 
Repair to him; while I am quite forfaken. 
His life they pray for, but expedl my death. 
Thus thofe, brought up by my exceeding labour^ 
He, at a fmall expence, has made his own : 
The care all mine, and all the pleafure his> 
— Well then, let Me endeavour in my turn 
To teach my tongue civility, to give 
With open-handed generofity, 
Since I am challeng'd to't! — and let Me too 
Obtain the love and reverence of my children ! 
And if 'tis bought by bounty and indulgence, 
I will not be behind-hand. — Calh will fail : 
What's that to me, whp am the eldeft-born ^. 

SCENE II. 
Enter S Y R U S. 

Syrus. Oh, Sir ! your brother has difpatch'd me to you 
To beg you'd not go further off, 
Dem. Who's there ?— 

What, 



THE BROTHERS, ^i 

^What, honefl Syrus! flive you : how is*t with you,^ 
How goes it ? 

Syrus. Very well, Sir. 

Demea, a/ide.] Excellent! 
Kow for the iirfl time I, againft my nature, 
Have added thefe three phrafes, " Honeft Syrus \ 
** How is't?— How goes it?" — [io S)tus.] You have 

prov'd yourfelf 
A worthy fervant. I'll reward yoii for it, 

Syrus. I thank you, Sir, 

Dem. I will, I promife you ; 
And you fhall he convinc'd on't very foon, 

SCENE III. 

Enler G E T A, 

Ge^a, to Sofirata witmn.] Madam, I'm going to lool^ 
after them. 
That they may call the bride immediately, 
But here is Demea. Save you 1 

Dem. Oh ! your name ? 

Geta. Geta, Sir. 

Dem. Geta, I this day have found you 

^ JVhat, hone/} Syj-us.'^ Here and that a mifer, meaning to 

the Poet (hews how aukwardly be generous, runs into profu- 

a man of anoppofitedifpofition fion. Donatus. 
endeavours to be complaifantj 

To 



92 T H E B R O T H E R S. 

To be a fellow of uncommon worth : 

For fure that fervant's faith is well approv'd 

Who holds his mailer's interell at heart. 

As I perceiv'd that you did, Geta ! wherefore. 

Soon as occafion offers, I'll reward you. 

— I am endeavouring to be affable, 

And not without fuccefs. \afidc* 

Geta. 'Tis kind in you 
To think of your poor flave. Sir. 

'Dem. afide.'] Firft of all 
I court the mob, and win them by degrees^ 

SCENE IV, 

Enter iE S C H I N U S. 

'y^fcb. They murder me with their delays •, and while 
They lavifh all this pomp upon the nuptials. 
They wafte the live-long day in preparation. 

Dem. How does my fon ? 

j^feh. My father ! Are you here ? 

Dem. Ay, by affedlion, and by blood your father. 
Who love you better than my eyes. — But why 
Do you not call the bride ? 

j^fcb. 'Tis what I long for : 
But wait the mufick and the fingers, 

Dem. Pfliaw ! 

Will 



THE BROTHERS. 



$% 



"Will you for once be rul'd by an old fellow ? 

yEfch. Well? 

Dem. * Ne'er mind fingers, company, lights, muficki 
But tell them to throw down the garden- wall. 
As foon as pofTible. Convey the bride 
That way, and lay both houfes into one. 
Bring too the mother, and whole family. 
Over to Us. 

yE/cb. I will. Oh charming father ! 

Dem. afide.'] Charming ! See there ! He calls m^ 
charming now. 
— My brother's houfe will be a thorough-fare; 
Throng'd with whole crouds of people -, much expencc 
Will follow j very much: what's that to me ? 
I am call'd charming^ and get into favour. 
— Ho! order Baby lo immediately -|- 



* Ne*er mind Jingers, ^r.] 
The bride was ufually thus at- 
tended, and Lucian fpeaks of 
this retinue, and I believe took 
the pafTage from Menander, 
where he fays, K^, a-jKnrf,ilxCf 
K.M fiopufov, KM vixevaicv d^nvrxq 

Tiva.:., &c. " the players on the 
*' flute, the company, and 
*' fingers of the ouptial fong." 
Dacier. 

f Ho ! order Bahylo itmnedi- 
ftiely to pay him Twenty Mines. ^ 
Jube nunc jam dinumcret illi 
Bahylo 'viginti minus. All the 
«ommentators and tranflators 



have been extremely puzzled at 
this paflage. It does not be- 
come the laft comer to be pofi- 
tive, where fo many conjec- 
tures have already been offered 
and rejefted. But if one may 
determine from the context, 
which is commonly the beft 
v/ay, as well as the moft natural 
and obvious, it lliould feem that 
Demea means to give an order 
to one of his fervants to give 
i^fchinus Twenty Min^. He 
has already determined to be 
very generous; and another in- 
ftance of his bounty occurs in the 
concluding fcene, where he pays 
down 



^< 



THE BROTHERS, 



To pay him Twenty Minje.-^"Prithee, Syrus, 
"Why don't you execute your orders ? 

Syrus. What ? 

De7n. Down with the wall!— -[^a*// Syrus.]—- YoUs 
Geta, go, and bring 
The ladies over. 

Geta. Heaven blefs you, Demea, 
For all your friendfhip to our family ! [^Exit Qeta. 

Bern. They're worthy of it. — What fay You to this ? 

[to iEfch, 

'u^fch. 1 think it admirable. 

Dem. 'Tis much better, 
Than for a poor foul, fick, and lying-Inj 
To be conduded thro' the ftreet. 

jE/ch. I never 
Saw any thing concerted better, Sir. 

Dem. 'Tis jull my way. — But here comes Micio, 



down 'fhe money for the free- 
dom of Phrygia.— In this very 
fpeech he is pleafantly confi- 
dering with himfelf the expence, 
which he difregards, fo as he 
i^an bttt get into favour. In 



conftquence of which refolu- 
tion it is natural to fuppofe that 
he immediately gives an order 
for iffiiing money to defray the 
charges of pulling down walls, 
entertaining company, £:c. 



SCENE 



THE BROTHERS. 9^ 

SCENE V. 
Ejuer M I C I O. 

Micio^ at entering.'] My brother order it, d'ye fay ? 
where is he ? 
—Was this your order, Demea ? 

Dem. 'Twas my order ; 
And by thefe means, and every other way, 
I would unite, ferve, cherifh, and oblige. 
And join the family to our's ! 

jEfch. Pray do, Sir ! [to Micia 

Micio. I don't oppofe it. 

Dem. Nay, but 'tis our duty. 
Firft, there's the mother of the bride 

Micio. What then } 

Bern. Worthy and modefl. 

Micio. So they fay, 

Dem. In years. 

Micio. True. 

Dem. And fo far advanc'd, that ftie is long 
Paft child-bearing, a poor lone woman too, 
With none to comfort her. 

Micio. What means all this ? 

Dem. This woman 'tis your place to mafry, brother j 

— And your's [to ^fch.] to bring him to't. 

Micio, I marry her ? 

Dem. 



^6 T H E B R O T H E R S. 

JDem. Yon. 

Micio. I? 

I) em. Yes, you I fay* 

Micio. Ridiculous ! 

Bern, to jEfch.'] If you're a man, he'll do't, 

Mfch. to Micio.'] Dear father ! 

Micio. How ! 
Do You then join him, fool ? 

Dem. Nay, don't deny. 
It can't be otherwife. 

MiciG. You've loll your fenfes ! 

^fch. Let me prevail upon you, Sil* ! 

Micio. You're mad. 
Away ! 

Dem. Oblige your fon. 

' Micio. Have you your wits ? 
I a new-married man at fixty-five ! 
And marry a decrepid poor old woman ! 
Is that what you advife me ? 

jEfch. Do it, Sir ! 
I've promis'd them. 

Micio. You've promis'd them indeed ! 
Prithee, boy, promife for yourfelf. 

JDem. Come, come ! 
What if he afk'd dill more of you ? 

Micio. As if 

This was not ev'n the utmoft, 

Dem. Nay, comply I 

3' i^/4« 



THE BROTHERS. 97 

■^fch. Be not obdurate ! 

Dem. Come, come, promife him>. 

Micio. Won't you dcfifl ? 

.^fch. No, not till I prevail. 

Micio. This is mere force. 

Vejn. Nay, nay, comply, good Micio ! 

Micio. Tho' this appears to me ablurd, wrong, 
foolifh. 
And quite repugnant to my fcheme of life. 
Yet, if you're fo much bent on't, let it be ! 

jEfch. * Obliging father, worthy my beft love ! 

Dem. a/ide.] What now P—This anfwers to my wifli.- 
What more ? 



• Olliglng father /] Oblig- 
ing indeed ! 

The Poet's condu£l here is 
juftly liable to cenfure : the 
only confideration that can be 
urged in his defence is, that he 
meant to Ihew the inconveni- 
enciesarifing from too unbound- 
ed a good-nature. But Micio 
has all along been reprefented 
fo agreeable, and pofleffed of 
fo much judgment, good fenfe, 
and knowledge of the world, 
that this lad piece of extrava- 
gance muft fliock probability, 
and offend the delicacy of the 
fpectator. Patrick. 

Apud Menandrum fenex de 
nuptiis non gravatur. Ergo 
Terentius rjpnnxw-. Poi;atus. 



It is furprlUng that none of 
the criticks on this pafTage have 
taken notice of this obfervation 
of Donatus, efpecially as our 
lofs of Menander makes it ra- 
ther curious. It is plain that 
Terence in the plan of his lail 
aft followed Menander : but 
though he has adopted the ab- 
furdity of marrying Micio to 
the old lady, yet we learn from 
Donatus that his judgement 
rather revolted at this circum- 
flance, and he improved on his 
original by making Micio ex- 
prefs a repugnance to ftich a 
match, which it feems lie did 
not in the play of Menan* 
der. 



Vol. II. 



H 



Heffio's 



9? THE BROTHERS. 

— Hegio's their kinfman, [ioMicio.] our relation too. 
And very poor. We fhou'd do bim fome fervice. 

Micio. Do what ? 

Dem. There is a little piece of ground. 
Which you let out near town. Let's give it him 
To live upon ! 

Mkio. So little, do you call it ? 

Dem. Well, if 'tis large, let's give it. He has been 
A father to the bride ; a worthy man ; 
Our kinfman too. It will be well beftow'd. 
In fhort, that faying I now make my own. 
Which you but now fo wifely quoted, Micio -, 
" It is the common failing of old men, 
*' To be too much intent on worldly matters." 
Let us wipe off that ftain. The faying's true. 
And worthy notice. 

Micio. Well, well i be it fo. 
If he requires it. [pointing to y^fchinus, 

jEfch. I befeech it, father. 

Dem. Now you're indeed my brother, foul and body. 

Micio, I'm glad to find you think me fo. 

Dem. I foil him 
At his own weapons, [afide. 



S C E N E 



J jH E B R O T .H .p ,il S. 99 

SCENE VI. 

To them S Y R U S. 



Syrus. I have executed 
Your orders, Demea. 

Dem. A good fellow ! — Truly 
Syrus, I think, fhou'd be made free to-day, 

MiciOk Made free! He? — Wherefore? 

JDe7n. Oh, for many reafons. 

Syrus. Oh Demea, you're a noble gentleman^ 
I've taken care of both your fons from boys ; 
Taught them, inftruded them, and given them 
The wholefomeft advice, that I was able. 

Dem. The thing's apparent: and thefe offices, 
To cater-, — bring a wench in, fafe and fnug ; 
•—Or * in mid-day prepare an entertainment •,— 
— All thefe are talents of no common man. 

Syrus. Oh mod delightful gentleman ! 

Dem. Befides, 
He has been inftrumental too this day 
In purchafmg the Mufick-Girl, He managed 

• In mid-day prepare an enter- m another place, the chief meal 

tainment.'\ Jpparare de die con- of the Graecians was at fupper, 

*ui'vium. The force of this paf- and an entertainment in the day- 

fage confifts in the words fl(?^;>, time was confidered as a de- 

ibjscaufe, as has bsen oblerved, baach. Dacier. 

H 2 Tlie 



100 THE BROTHERS. 

The whole affair. We lliou'd reward him for it. 
It will encourage others.* — In a word. 
Your iEfchinus would have it fo. 

Micio. Do Yoti 
Defire it ? 

JEfch. Yes, Sir. 

Micio. Well, if you defire it 

Come hither, Syrus! — Be thou free! 
[Sy rus kneels ; Micio Jlrikes him, being the ceremony ef 
manumijfion, or givitig a Slave his freedom.'] 

Syrus. I thank you : 
Thanks to you all-, but mofb of all, to Demea 1 

T)em. I'm glad of your good fortune. 

jEfch. So am I. 

Syrus. I do believe it^ and I wifh this joy 
Were quite complete, and I might fee my wife. 
My Phrygia too, made free as well as I. 

Dem. The very bell of women ! 

Syrus. And the firft 
That fuckled rriy young mailer's fon, your grandfon. 

Dem. Indeed! the firll who fuckled him ! — Nay 
then, 
Beyond all doubt Ihe Ihould be free. 

Micio. For what? 

Bern.' For that. Nay take the fum, whate'er it be,; 
Of Me. 

* // nvill encourage others.'^ The grave irony of this pafl*age is 
extremely humourous. Donatus. 

Syrus, 



THE BROTHERS. loi 

Syriis. Now all the pow'rs above grant ail 
Your wifhes, Demca ! 

Alicio, You have thriv'd to-day 
Moft rarely, Syrus. 

Bern. And befides this, Micio, 
It wou'd be handfome to advance him fomething 
To try his fortune with. He'll foon return it. 

Micio. Not that. Vf^^^PP^^^S his fingers. 

JEfich. He's honefl. 

^yrus. Faith, I will return it. 
Do but advance it. 

JEfch. Do, Sir! 

Micio. Well, I'll think on't. 

Dem. I'll fee that he fhall do't, \to Syrus. 

Syrus. Thou beft of men ! 

Mfch. My mofl indulgent father ! 

Micio. What means this } 
Whence comes this hafby change of manners. Brother? 
* Whence flows all this extravagance.'' and whence 
This fudden prodigality ? 

Titm. I'll tell you : 
-{-Tolhew you, that the reafon, v/hy our fons 

* IVhence ficvos all this extra- feparated from each other; but 

niagajice F ^r.] ^.od prolu^>jiiim ? I muft own that a dire<^ contrali 

qute ift^ec fubita cji largitas P A difpleafes me. 
pafTage borrowed from the co- But the mnft fure methoil to 

mick poet Ccecilius. Dacier. fpoil a play, and to render it 

t Tofac-ijyou that the reafon, ^"'^^ infnpp or table, xvoiild be' 

e^'c] I would have charsa^^rs ^° niultiply f«ch contiafts. 

H 3 S;^3 



J 02 



THE BROTHERS. 



Think you fo pleafaht and agreeable. 

Is not from your deferts, or truth, or juftice^ 

But your compliance, bounty, and indulgence. 



See what would be the refult 
of thefeantithcfes. I call them 
Antithefes ; for the contrail of 
chara£ler is, in the plan of 
the drama,, what that figure is 
in converfation. It is happy ; 
but it mult be ufed with mode- 
ration ; and in an elevated llile, 
totally excluded. 

What is tpe moil: common 
flate of fociety, that where cha- 
rafters are coutrafied, or where 
they are only different ? 

What is the intention of con- 
trail in charat^er ? Doubtlefs to 
render one of the two more 
flriking. Eat that eiFefl can 
only be obtained, where they 
both appear together. What a 
monotony will this create in the 
dialogue ? vfhat a conftrainc 
will it impofe on the condudl of 
the fable? Hov/ can I attend to 
the natural chain of events, and 
proper fucceHion of fcenes, if I 
am engaged by the necefilty of 
always bringing the two op- 
pofitecharaflers together? IIow 
often will it happen that the 
contrail will require one fcene, 
and the true courfe of the fable 
another ? 

BefideSj if the two contrafled 
eharaflers are both drawn with 
equal force, the intention of 
the drama will be rendeicd 



equivocal. To conceive the- 
whole force of this reafoning, 
open the Brothers of Terence. 
There you will fee two brothers^ 
contralled, both drawn with 
equal force ; and you may 
challenge the moH fubtle cri- 
tick to tell you which is the 
priiTcipal charader, Micio or 
Demea ? If he ventures to pro- 
nounce before the laft fcene, 
he will find to his aflonifhment, 
that He, whom he has taken, 
during five ads, for a man of 
fsnfe, is a fool ; and that He, 
whom he has taken for a fool, 
may be a very fenfible man. 

One would fuppofe at the be- 
ginning of the fifth aft, that 
the Author, embarrafled by the 
contrail which he had efiablifh- 
ed, was obliged to abandon this 
defign, and to turn the intereil 
of his piece topfy-turvy. But 
what is the confequence? That 
we no longer know which fld^ 
to take ; and after having been 
all along for Micio againll De- 
mea, we conclude without know- 
ing, whether we are for one, or 
the other. One would almolt 
defire a third father to prefcrve 
the golden mean between the 
tvjo charafters, and to point out 
the f;iults of each of them. 
Diderot. 

Here 



THE BROTHERS. 



103 



Now, therefore, if I'm odious to yon, fon, 

Becaufe I'm not fubfervient to your humour, 
In all things, right, or wrong-, away with care ! 
Spend, fquander, and do what you will! — But if. 
In thofe affairs where youth has made you blind. 
Eager, and thoughtlefs, you will fuffer me 
To counici and correct— and in due feafon 
Indulge you— I am at your fervice. 

^fch. Father, 
In all things we fubmit ourfelves to you. 
What's fit and proper, you know beft. — But what 
Shall come of my poor brother ? 

Bern. *I confent 
That he fhall have her: let him finifh there. 

jEfch. f All now is as it fhou'd be. — [iotbe audience.] 
Clap your hands ! 



Here Demea returns to his 
own charafter, and the conducl 
of Terence is admirable in the 
leffon given to Micio. The op- 
.poiite charadters of thefe two 
brothers, and the inconveni- 
encies refulting from each, per- 
feftly point out to fathers the 
middle way which they ought 
to perfue in the education of 
their children, between the too 
great feverity of the one, and 
the unlimited indulgence of the 
other. Dacier., 

* / confent that he Jha'l hai'e 
her.] This coniplaifance of 



Demea in allowing Ctefipho to 
retain the Mufick-Girl, would 
be very criminal in a modern 
father ; but the Greeks and Ro- 
mans were not fufficiently en- 
lightened to be fenfible of the 
fin. Dacier. 

f All no-L\> is as it Jhou^d he.'] 
It has been faid that 1 Ecole des 
Maris [TheSchool forHufbands] 
was a copy of the Brothers of 
Terence : if fo, Moliere de- 
ferves more praife for having 
brought the tafte of ancient 
Rome into France, than re- 
proach for having flolen his 

i^ 4 piece. 



104 



THE BROTHERS. 



piece. But the Brothers fur- this piece is more chafle than in 

niflied r.othino- more than the any of his others. The Frenclj 

bare idea of theEcole desMaris. Author almofl: equals the purity 

There are in the Brothers two of the diftion of Terence; and 

old men of oppofite humours, goes far beyond him in the in-, 

who give each of them a difi'er- trigue, the charafter, the cata- 

ent education to the children flrophe, and humour. 



that they educate ; there are in 
like manner in the Ecole des 
Maris two guardians, of which 
one is fevere, and the other in- 
dulgent; there lies the whole re- 
femblance. There is fcarce any 



Voltaire's Contes de Gail-' 
Icmine Vade. 

It is impofTible for any reader, 
who is come frefli from the 
perufal of the Brothers of Te- 
rence, and the Ecole des Maris 



intrigue in the Brothers ; that of Moliere, to acquiefce in the 



of the Ecole des Maris is deli- 
cate, interefting, and comick. 
One of the women in Terence's 
piece, who ought to be the prin- 
cipal charaiSler, is never feen or 
heard except in her lying-in. 
The Ifabella of Moliere is almoft 
forevei'ontheftage, full of grace 
and fpirit, and fometimes 
mingles a decency, even in the 
tricks which fhe plays her 
guardian. There is no proba- 
bility in the cataftrophe of the 



ibove decifion ; and I would 
venture to appeal from Vol- 
t.iire to any member of the 
French academy for a reverfal 
of it. The reputation of Mo- 
liere has taken too deep root 
to be rendered more fiourifliing 
by blaiting that of Tereace ; 
nor can fuch an attempt ever 
be made with a worfe grace 
than when the imitation is 
blindly preferred to the origi- 
nal. Moliere, fo far from hav- 



Brothers: It is not in nature, that ing taken only the idea of his 

a morofe, fevere, covetous old piece from the Brothers, has 

fellow of fixty fhould become tranflated fome pafiages almoll 

^11 at once gay, complaifant literally, and the latter part 

and liberal. The cataftrophe of the fecond fcene of the Ecole 

of the Ecole des Marl? is the beft desMaris is a very clofe imi- 

of all the pieces of Moliere. It tation of one in the fourth adl 

is probable, natural, grounded of the Brothers, 
on the plot; and what is of full In point of fable, I make no 



as much confequence, extremely 
comick. The Itlle of Terence 
is pure, and iententious, but a 
little cold ; as Casfar, v,fho ex- 



fcrcpis to prefer the piece of 
Terence to that of Moliere. 
The intrigue of the four lirS; 
afts of the Brothers is more art- 



celled in all, has reproached fully condufted than that of 
^im. The faie of Moliere in any other of Terence'^ plQcci. 



THE BROTHERS. 



105 



In the Andrian, were all the 
Epifode of Charinus to be omit- 
ted, the play would be the bet- 
ter for it. In the Eunuch, as 
has been before obfcrved, there 
is a lamenefs in thecataftrophe, 
and the conclufion of Thrafo's 
bufinefs in the laft fcene be- 
comes epifodical. In the Self- 
Tormentor, the intrigue in a 
manner ends with the third aft. 
In the Phormio, the loves of 
Antipho and Phasdria have no 
further relation to each other, 
than that Phormio is ufed as an 
engine in both.* But in the 
play before us, the intereft 
which ^fchinus takes in Ctefi- 
pho's afFairs, combines their fe- 
veral amours fo naturally, that 
they reciprocally put each other 
in motion. 

I cannot think the fable of 
the Ecole des Maris quite fo 
happy. In Terence we fee a 
good-humoured uncle adopting 
one of his nephews, while the 
other lad remains' under the 
tuition of the fevere father. 
This is natural enough ; but 
in Moliere we have two young 
women left, by their father's 
will, as the intended wives of 
their antiquated guardians. Is 
there notfome abfurdity in fuch 
an idea ? Micio and Demea are 
confefledly the archetypes of 
Arifte and Sganarelle ; but in 
my mind infinitely fuperiour, 



and exhibited in a greater va- 
riety of fituations ; nor do the 
two fifters, Ifabelle and Leonor, 
play into each others hands, like 
■^fchinus and Ctefipho. In the 
Brothers, the bufinefs and the 
play open together; in Mo- 
liere the firft fcene is a mere 
converfation-piece. In Moliere, 
the plot is thin, feems to have 
been calculated for the intrigue 
of a petite piece, and the cir- 
cumftance of Ifabelle's embra- 
cing Sganarelle, and giving her 
hand toErafte,is purely farcical. 
In Terence the fable is more 
important, and the incidents 
naturally un.*bld themfelves 
one after another ,• and the 
manner in which Demea sra- 
dually arrives at the knowledge 
of them, is extremely artful and 
comick. What then is in- 
trigue ? If it be the Dramatick 
Narration of a ftory, fo laid 
out as to produce pleafant fitu- 
ations, I will not fcruple to 
pronounce, that there is more 
intrigue in the Brothers than in 
the Ecole des Maris, The 
reader has already feen feveral 
ftridures on the fifth aft, but 
the particular objeftion, made 
by Voltaire to the cataftrophe, 
is founded on a miftake : the 
complaifance, gaiety, and li- 
berality of Demea being merely 
alFumed ; and his aukvvardnefs 
in affedting thofc qualities, full 



* The plot of the Step-Mother, fo admired by the moderns for its fimplicity, 
fliall be exami.'ied in another plac?. 



as 



io6 



THE BROTHERS. 



as Gomick as the admired cata- 
flrophe of the Ecole des Maris; 
which being produced in a 
forced manner by the difguife 
of Ifabelle, and the broad cheat 
put upon Sganarelle before his 
face, is certainly deficient in 
the probability, necefTary to the 
incidents of legitimate co- 
medy.— It is not without re- 
ludlance that I have been drawn 
into an examination of the com- 
parative merits of thefe two ex- 
cellent pieces : nor do I think 
there is in general a more invi- 
dious method of extolling one 
writer, thanby depreciatingthe 
produdlions of another. 

Baron, the author of the An- 
drienne, has alfo written a co- 
medy called I'Ecole des Peres, 
[the School for Fathers] built 
on this play of Terence. The 
piece opens with a very elegant, 
though pretty clofe verfion, of 
the firil a£t of the Brothers ; btit 
on the whole I think this at- 
tempt lefs happy than his firft. 
The bringing Clarice and Pam- 
phile on the ftage has no better 
effefl, than his introduction of 
Glicerie in the Andrian. Tela- 
iBon and Alcee are drawn with 
»ei:her the ilrength nor deli- 



cacy of Micio and Denjea; 
and the old man's change of 
charafter in the fifth aft is nei- 
ther rejefted nor retained, but 
rather mangled and deformed* 
On the whole, it were to be 
wilhed, that Baron had adhered 
ftill more clofely to Terence, or, 
like Mcliere,. deviated dill fur- 
ther from him : for, as the play 
now ftands, his attention to the 
RomanPoetfeemstohavethrovvn 
a conllraint on his genius, and 
taken off the air of an original ; 
while his alterations have rea^ 
dered the Ecole des Peres but a 
lame imitation, and imperfeft 
image of the Brothers of Te- 
rence. 

In our own language, the 
Squire of Alfatia of Shadwell is. 
alfo founded on this play : But 
the Mufe of White Friars has 
but little right to the praifes 
due to that of Athens and Rome. 
Shadwell's play, though drawn 
from fo pure a fource, is rather 
a farce of five afts than a co- 
medy ; nor has it the leaft com- 
parative merit either in the plan 
or execution, except in the in- 
tention to give the character of 
Ctefipho more at large, thati it 
is drawJi in the original. 



THE 




Step-Motlier 



^VvWv 'i' V 'Jr " '*' '+ ■■• '*• T "' " T " *' 'V " i? 'V 'V V V \ V V V '♦■ T ▼" V V V * '♦' "»' "»' '♦ %' W 



THE 



STEP-MOTHER. 



■♦■{' ji 1"^* "I* ^■fKfHfHft^t l t .|. i t. { . . I ^-jl^ I » >| l i ft jl ■ !> - I* ■ !«<{> ■|ni>4t^4t^<^ | | l ^ ijl , |» | | i^ifii^^^^t^ 



T O 



ISAAC SCHOMBERG, M. D- 



THE FOLLOWING COMEDY, 



TRANSLATED FROM TERENCE, 



IS INSCRIBED, 

BY HIS FAITHFUL FRIEND, 

AND MOST OBLIGED 
HUMBLE SERVANT, 



GEORGE COLMAN. 



THE 

STEP-MOTHER; 

^Exhibiteii at the Megalesian Games, 

Sextus Julius Ctefar and Cn. Cornelius Dolabella, 
Curule i^diles: It was not acled through : The 
Mufick, compofed for Equal Flutes, by Flaccus, 
Freedman to Claudius : 'It is entirely from the Gre^k 
of Apollodorus : -}- It was a<5led firfl without a Pro- 
logue, Cn. Odavius and T. Manlius, Confuls^J and 
brought on again at the Funeral Games of iEmilius 
Paulus : It did not pleafe : It was a£led a third time, 
Q^Fulvius and L. Marcius, Gurule j^diles: Princi- 
pal Ador, L. Ambivius Turpio : It pleas'd. 



* Exhibited at, l^c] The dorus; and moft agree that this 
title to this play varies extreme- Comedy was not taken, 2ike 
ly in different editions. That the four firli of oui author, from 
given here is taken chiefly from Menander. 
Wefterhovias. 

X OBa'vitis and Manlius, Cox- 

f from the Greei of Apollo- fuhJ] That is, in the year of 
dorus.^ Criticks differ about the Rome 58^, and 165 years be- 
name of the Greek Poet from fore Chrilt, the year after the 
whom this play was taken. It reprefentation of the Andrian. 
is generally faid to be Apollo- 



PRO- 



PERSONS. 

PROLOGUE, 

LACHES, 

P H I D I P P U S, 

PAMPHILUS, 

PARMENO, 

S O S I A, 

BOY, and other Servants. 



SOSTRATA, 

M Y R R H I N A, 

B A C C H I S, 

P H I L O T I S, 

SYR A, 

NURSE, Servants to Bacchis, &c. 



SCENE, Athens. 



PROLOGUE. 



THIS play is call'dThe Step-Mother. When Hril 
It was prefeiited, fuch a hurricane,* 
A tumult fo uncommon intervened. 
It neither could be feen, nor underilood : 
So taken were the people, lb engag'd 
By a rope-dancer! — It is now brought on 
As a new piece : and he who wrote the play, 
SufFer'd it not to be repeated then, 
That he might profit by a fecond fale.-f 
J Others, his plays, you have already known ; 
Now then, let me befeech you, know this too. 



• Hurricane."] Calamilas. This % Others,his plays, you baue al- 

vvord is ufed in the fame fenfe rea^iy kno-ivti.] According to 

• in the firft fcene of the Eu- y^^^^^^ ^^e Step-Mother was 

nuch. — Nothing; can be more i ■ • i 

. , , ,^ , . , not attempted to be revived 

evident than that this was the .,, r i 

^„, ^ ..\^ r J .. * till after the reprefentation of 

prologue to the lecond attempt ^ 

to exhibit this comedy. ^'^^ Brothers. If fo, they had 

already feen all the reft of Tc- 

t That he 7mght profit hy a j-gnce's pieces. Dacier. 

fecond f ale.] See the laft note to 

the fecond prologue. 



Vol. IL 



ANOTHER PROLOGUE.* 



Come a pleader, f in the ihape of pFologue: 
Let me then gain my caiife, and now grown old 
Experience the fame favour as when young •, 
"Who then recover'd many a loft play, 
Breath'd. a new life into the fcenes, and fav*<i 
The author, and his writings, from oblivion. 
Of thofe, which firft I ftudied of Cascilius, + 



* Another Prolcgue.'] Thefe 
two prologues nre by fome 
blended together, but moft 
learned and judicious editors 
make tv/o of them. Faernus 
lays, that '^n fome copies the 
name of L. Ambivius is over 
them, in great letters ; thus, 
L. AMBIVIUS PROLOGUS : 
and the fame dilHndlion is made 
in the Bafilican copy. Eugra- 
phius fays politively that the 
prologue was fpoken by Ambi- 
vius Turpio. CCOKE. 

\ I come a pleader ^ ^cJ] Ora- 
tor ad 'vos 'venio. Madam Da- 
cier, and fome who follow her, 
tranflatc Orator by the word 
AmbaJJ'adcr. Her explanation 
of the original (though in this 
inftancc, as well as many others j 
fhe docs not acknowledge it) is 
taken from Donatus. But what 
is very extraordinary, Donatus, 
in his comment on the very 
next line, gives ths word a 



quite different fignification ; and 
tells us, that Orator fignifies a 
perfon entrufted with the de- 
fence of a caufe; in one word,^ 
a Pleader: and that Exorator 
fignifies him who has gained- 
the caufe. The word is un- 
doubtedly ufed in this latter 
fenfe in the Prologue to the Self- 
Tormentor Oratorem 'voluif 

eJJ'e me, son Prologum — and it 
leems to be the beft and ealieft' 
conflrudion in this place alfo. 

I Ctrci lilts.'] A famous co- 
mick Poet among the Romans. 
His chief excellencies are faid 
to have been the gravity of his 
flile, and the choice of his fub- 
je£ls. The iirft quality was at- 
tributed to him by Horace, 
Tully, &c. and the lait by 
Varro. In argiimaitii Cffcilius 
pojcit palm am, in ethiji T'eren- 
t:u^. — *^ In the choice of fub- 
*' jedls Cacilius demands the 
*• preference, in the manners 
*♦ Te- 



ANOTHER PROLOGUE. 115 

tn foine I was excluded ^ and in fome 

Hardly m^intain'd my ground. But knowing well 

The variable fortunes of the Scene, 

i was content to hazard certain toil 

For an uncertain gain. I undertook 

To refcue thofe fame plays from condemnation. 

And labour^:! to revcrfe your fentcnce on them j 

That the fame Poet might aflbrd me morCj 

And no ill fortune damp young genius in him. 

My cares prevail'd, the plays were heard; and thus 

Did 1 reftore an Author, nearly loft 

Through the malevolence of adverfarieSj, 

To fludy, labour, and the Poet's art. 

But had I at that tim.e dcfpis'd liic playsj 

Or labour'd to deter him from the tafk. 

It had been eafy to have kept him idle, 

And to have fcar'd him from attempting more : 



*' Terence."— Madam Dacier 
indeed lenders in arguynaiiis 
*' in the difpolition of his fub- 
*' jeds." But the words will 
not bear that conftruction. Ar~ 
gumentum, I behevCj, is uni- 
formly ufed for the argument 
itfelf, never implies the conduft 
of it - as in the Prologue to the 
Andrian, nc?i tarn ciijjitnili arpn- 



menlo —" in argument hfs dlfi-^ 
" ;-^«/."- Bcfides, the difpofi- 
tion of thefubjfft was the very 
art attributed by the criticks 
of thofe days to Terence, and 
Vv'hich Horace mentions in the 
very fame line with the gravity 
of Ccecilius, di{ltn|:uiftiin;jtherT» 
as the fcveralcbarsderifticks <;f 
each writer. 



Vincere Caccilius gravitate, Terentius arte. 
See Hurd's notes to the Epiilie to AuguHusi 



I 



jt'or 



ii6 ANOTHER PROLOGUE. 

For my fake, therefore, deign to hear with candour 
The fuit I mean to offer to you now. 

Once more I bring the Step-Mother before you. 
Which yet in filence I might never play ; 
So did confufion crufh it: which confufion 
Your prudence may allay, if it will deign 
To fecond our endeavours.— When I firft 
Begun to play this piece, the Iturdy Boxers, 
(The Dancers on the Rope expedled too) 
Th' increafmg crouds, the noife, and women's clamour 
Oblig*d me to retire before my time. 
I, upon this occafion, had recourfe 
To my old way. I brought it on again. 
In the lif 11 aft I pleafe : meanwhile there fpreads 
A rumour of the Gladiators : then 
The people flock together, riot, roar. 
And fight for places. I meanwhile r.iy place 
Could not maintain — To-day there's no difturbance ; 
All's filcnce and attention ; a clear ftage : 
^'Tis your's to give thefe games their proper grace. 
Let not, oh let not the Dramatick Art 
Fall to a few! Let your authority 
AfTill and fecond mine! If I for gain 

* '7'» your's to give thefe prived of their chief ornaments, 

games their proper grace. "^ There if by too great a feverity they 

is great force and eloquence in difcouraged the Poets, who un- 

the aclor's aftefting a concern dertook to furnifti the plays 

for the facrcd feltivals, which during the celebrity. Dacier.. 
were in danger of being de- 

I Ne'er 



ANOTHER PROLOGUE. 

Ne'er over-rated my abilities. 

If I have made it ftill my only care 

To be obedient to your will, oh grant 

That he who hath committed his performance 

To my defence, and who hath thrown himfelf 

On your prote6lion, be not giv'n to fcorn. 

And foul derifion of his envious foes ! 

Admiit this plea for my fake, and be filent ; 
That other Poets may not fear to write. 
That I too may hereafter find it meet 
To play new pieces, * bought at my expence. 



IT7 



* Bought at my expence. '\ Pre- 
tio etntas meo. Thefe words I 
have rendered literally, tho' 
there is a great difpute among 
commentators concerning them. 
Donatus, and, after him. Ma- 
dam Dacier, explains pretio by 
ajiimatione pritii, importing 
that Ambivius valued the play, 
when the ^diles were to pur- 
chafe it. Madam Dacier there- 
fore fuppofes the cafe to be 
thus. When the ^diles had a 
mind to purchafe a copy for the 
Stage, they gave it to the Ma- 
iler of the Company, toperufe, 
and fet a price upon it. If it 
failed, the mafter was bound 
to return the money to the Ma- 
giftrates ; which made it the 
intereft of the A dors to fup- 
port the piece, as the lofs, if 
it was rejeded, fell upon them- 



felves. — This it muft be owned 
is ingenious, but has nothing 
to fupport it but conjedure. 
We are entirely unacquainted 
with the nature of thefe tranf- 
aftions between the ^.diles. 
Players, and Poet, and there- 
fore cannot pronounce with 
certainty about them. Befides, 
I believe it will be hard to find 
an inftance where Pretium is put 
for ^Jlimatio Pretii. I am 
therefore moreinclined to think, 
that on fome occafions the 
^diles, on others the Mafter 
of the Company, bought the 
play, of which laft kind was 
the purchafe of the Step-Mo- 
ther. But how in either cafe, 
if it was not received by the 
publick, the Poet could claim a 
right to a fecondfale, as is men- 
tioned in the firft prologue, is 
I 3 a mat- 



ii8 ANOTHER PROLOGUE. 



a matter not eafily determined 
at this diflance of time. Pa- 
trick. 

Madam Dacier's reafoning on 
^hib dark point of theatrical hif- 
tory is certainly incooclufive; 
not only for want of proof, 
but becaufe no method of fet- 
tling the ajjixe of plays could be 
piore unworthy the Magiilrate, 
more detrimental to Authors, 
or more hurtful to the credit of 
the Stage: ifor if the After 
was to abide by the lofs, bis 
interefh would incline him to 
fet the very Joweil ^aliie on the 

piece. Taking the whol^ 

prologue together, may not 
one conjc£liire, that the firft 
time a play was exhibited, it 
was purehafed, as is mentioneti 
in other prologues, by the 
^di'es : but if it failed, or, 
for the i?Ait of Gladiators, and 
Rope-dancers, was then refuted 
a hearing, the Poet had a right 
to withdraw his piece without 
returning the ccpy-rnoney ; and 
if it was brought on again by 
the manager, it was at his own 
hazard and expence? This con- 
jefture explains the paifage in 
the firft prologue concerning a 
fccond falc, and gives an addi- 
tional force to every thing urg- 
ed bv Ambivius in thefecond; 
\u which, fuppofmg the ador 
to be fpeakingj to the aijdienc.'i 
concerning a theatrical ufage 
with which thty were all famili- 
arly acquainted, th0 whole ob'- 
icurity of both the prologues 



vanlfhes. We immediately cont- 
prehend the manner of his re- 
vival of the plays of CzeciHus, 
and fee how elTentially his in- 
tereft is concerned in the re-, 
ception of this of Terence. It 
gives us alfo a very high opi- 
nion of the penetration and hu^ 
manity of Ambivius. 

From thefe two prologues^ 
and fome paffages in Horace, we. 
may colleft, that riots, parties, 
i^c. were as common in Rome, 
as in England; and that a firft 
night was as terrible, and the 
town as formidable toCaecilius, 
and Terence, as to the puny au- 
thors of cur days. The high re- 
putation of Ambivius Turpio, 
(the aftor who fpoke this Pro- 
jQgue, and the Manager of the 
Company) as well as the efleem 
which Terence had for him, is 
evident; and we conceive no 
unfavourable idea of the town- 
cri ticks of thofe times, who 
cculd liiten to fuch a plea urg- 
ed by the A6lor, and fo can- 
didly acquiefce in all that he 
faid in his own commenda- 
tion. We have, indeed, an 
acling manager in our time, to 
whom modern authors have as 
much reafon to be partial, as 
I'crence to An^bivius : but 
though he has helped out many 
a lame play with a lively pro- 
logue, I believe he would hard- 
ly venture to make fuch an ad- 
drefs to the publick, as thisiiow. 
bcfpre us. 

THE 



\ 

THE 

STEP-MOTHER. 

ACT I. SCENE I. 

PHILQTIS, SYR A. 

phi. "%. T O W, by my troth, a woman of the town 

i_ ^ Scarce ever finds a faithful lover, Syra. 
This very Pamphilus, how many times 
He fwore to Bacchis, fwore fo folemnly. 
One could not but believe him, that he never 
Would, in her life-time, marry ! See, he's married. 

S)ra. I warn you therefore, and moft earneftly 
Conjure you, to have pity upon none : 
But plunder, fleece, and beggar ev*ry man 
That falls into your pow'r. 

Phi. What ! fpare none ? 

Syra. None. 
For know, there is not one of all your fparks 
But ftudies to cajole you with fine fpeeches, 
And have his will as cheaply as he can. 
Shou'd not You then endeavour to fool Them ? 

Phi. But to treat all alike is wrong. 

Syra, What ! wrong ? 

I 4 To 



no T H E S T E P-M OTHER, 

To be reveng'd upon your enemies ? 
Or to fnare thofe who Ipread their fnares for you ? 
—Alas ! why have not I your youth and beauty. 
Or you my fentiments ? 

SCENE II. 
Enter P A R M E N O. 

Ffj\ to Scirtus within.'] If our old gentleman 
Aflcs for me, tell him I'm this very moment 
Gone to the Pert to feek for Pamphilus. 
D'ye underftand my meaning, Scirtus ? If he afks. 
Tell him that; if he fliou'd notafk, fay nothing; 
That this excufe may ferve another time. 

[^cGtnes forivard, 
—But is not that Philotis? Whence comes Sh.^^ 
Philotis ! fave you ! 

Phi. Save you, Parmeno! 

Syra. Save you, good Parmeno ! 

par. And fave you, Syra ! 
»— Tell me, Philotis, where have you been gadding, - 
Taking your pleafure this long time ? 

Phi. I've taken 
No pleafure, Parmeno, indeed. I went 
With a mofl brutal Captain hence to Corinth, 
There have I led a wretched life with him, 
J- Of two whole years, 

Par, 



THE STEP-MOTHER. 121 

Par. Ay, ay, I warrant you 
That you have often wifli'd to be in Athens ; 
Often repented of your journey. 

Phi. Oh, 
'Tis quite impofTible to tell how much 
I long'd to be at home, how much I long'd 
To leave the Captain, fee you, revel with you, 
After the good old fafnion, free, and eafy. 
For there I durft not fpeak a fmgle word, 
But what, and when, the mighty Captain pleas'd. 

Pa7\ 'Twas cruel in him thus to tie your tongue : 
At lead, I'll warrant, that you thought it fo. 

Phi. But what's this bufmefs, Parmeno? this (lory 
That Bacchis has been telling me within ? 
I could not have believ'd that Pamphilus 
Would in her life-time marry. 

Par. Marry truly ! 

Phi. Why he is married : is not he ? 

Par. He is. 
But I'm afraid 'twill prove a crazy match, 
And will not hold together long. 

Phi. Heav'n grant it. 
So it turn out to Bacchis's advantage ! 
But how can I believe this, Parmeno ? 
Tell me. 

Par. It is not fit it Ihould be told. 
Enquire no more. 

Phi. For fear I fhould divulge it ? 

Now 



122 THE STEP-MOTHER 

Now heav'n fo profper me, as I enquire, 
Not for the fake of telling it again, 
But to rejoice within myfelf, 

Par. No, no : 
Fair words, Philotis, iha'n't prevail on mc 
To truft my back to your djfcretion. . 

Phi. Well-, 
Don't tell me, Parmeno. — As if yoy had not 
Much rather tell this fecret, than I hear it ! 

Par. She's in the right: I am a blab, 'tis true. 
It is my greateft failing. — Give your word. 
You'll not reveal it, and I'll tell you. 

Phi. Now 
You're like yourfelf again. I give my word. 
Speak. 

Par. Liften then. 

Phi. I'm all ear. 

Par. Pamphilus 
Doated on Bacchis ftill as much as ever, 
"When the old gentleman began to teaze him 
To marry, in the common cant of fathers j 
— " That he was now grown old-, and Pamphilus 
*' His only child-, and that he long'd for heirs, 
*' As props of his old age." At firft my maftcr 
"Withftood his inftances, but as his father 
Became more hot and urgent, Pamphilus 
Began to waver in his mind, and felt 
A confiiL^ betwixt love and duty in him. 



At 



THE S T E P-M OTHER. ^23 

At length, by hammering on iTiarriage ftill. 

And daily inftances, th' old man preyail'd. 

And made a matchwith our next neighbour's daughter, 

Pamphilus did not take it much to heart. 

Till juft upon the very brink of wedlock : 

But when he faw the nuptial rites prepar'd. 

And, without refpite, he muft marry; then 

It came fo home to him, that even Bacchis, 

Had fhe been prefent, muft have pitied him, 

"Whenever he could fteal from company. 

And talk to me alone, — " Oli Parm.eno, 

" What have I done?" he'd cry. — " I'm loft for ever, 

" Into what ruin have I plung'd myfelf ! 

" I cannot bear it, Parmeno. Ah wretch ! 

" I am undone.'* 

Pbi. Nov/ all the pow'rs of heav'n 
Confound you. Laches, for thus teazing him! 

Pa?'. In fliort, he marries, and brings home his wife*^ 
The firft night he ne'er touch'd her; nor the next. 

Pbi. How! he a youth, and fhe a maidenhead! 
Tipfy, and never touch her! 'Tis not likely, 
^or do I think it can be true. 

Par. No wonder. 
For they, that come to you, come all defire : 
But he was bound to her ao;ainft his will. 

PbL What foUow'd upon this ? 

Par. A few days after, 
Paitiphilus, taking m.e afide, informs me, 

" That 



^24 THE STEP-MOTHEk. 

" That the maid Itill remain'd a maid for him ; 

" That he had hop'd, before he brought her home, 

*' He might have borne the marriage: — but refolving 

" Within myfelf, not to retain her long, 

" I held it neither honefly in Me, 

" Nor of advantage to the maid herfelf, 

" That I fhould throw her off to fcorn: — but rather 

" Return her to her friends, as I receiv'd her, 

" Chafte and inviolate." 

Phi. A worthy youth, 
And of great modefty ! 

Par. " To make this publick 
" Would not, I think, do well ; and to return her 
" Upon her father's hands, no crime alledg'd, 
*' Is arrogant : but jQie, I hope, as foon 
" As flie perceives fhe cannot live with me, 
" Willcf her own accord depart." 

Phi. But tell me; 
Went he meanwhile to Bacchis ? 

Par. Every day. 
But fhe, as is the way you know, perceiving 
Ele was another's property, became 
More crofs and mercenary. 

Phi. Troth, no wonder. 

Par. Ay, but 'twas that detach'd him cliicfly 

from her. 

For v;hen he had examin'd well himfelf, 

Bacchis, and her at home-, and had compar'd 

Their 



THE S T E P-M OTHER. 125 

Their different manners; feeing that his Bride, 

After the fafhion of a liberal mind. 

Was decent, modeil, patient of affronts. 

And anxious to conceal the wrongs he did her 5 

Touch'd partly with compaffion for his wife, 

And partly tir'd with t'other's infolence. 

He by degrees withdrew his heart from Bacchis, ' 

Transferring it to Her, whofe difpofition 

Was fo congenial to his own. Meanwhile 

An old relation of the family 

Dies in the ille of Imbrus.* His eflate 

Comes by the law to Them •, and our old man 

Difpatching thither, much againft his will. 

The now-fond Pamphilus, he leaves his wife 

Here with his mother. The old gentleman 

Retir'd into the country, 7 and but feldom 

Comes up to town. 

Par. But what is there in this 
That can affeft the marriage ? 

Par. You fhall hear ^ 

Immediately. At firft, for fom.e few days, 
The women feem/d to live on friendly terms. 
Till all at once the Bride, forfooth, conceiv'd 



* Imhrks.'\ An iflanu near for fuppofing the old gentleman 
Thrace. to have remained in town, the 

whole perplexity and intricacy 

t Retir''d into the country, J of the fable would be prevented. 
This is very well cpndudled : Dosatu.s. 

A v;cn- 



126 T H E S T E P-M OTHER. 

A wonderful difgnftto Soilrata: * 

And yet there was no open breach between thenij 

And no complaints en cither fide. 
FbL What then? 
Par. It Softrata, for converfation-fake, 

Went to the Bride, fhe inftantly withdrew. 

Shunning her company. At length, unable 

To bear it any longer, Ihe pretends 

Her mother had requir'd her to affiiL 

At fome home-facrifiee. Away Ihe went-. 

After a few days abfence, Softrata 

Sent for her back. They made fome lame excufci 
I know not what. She fends again. No lady. 

Then after feveral meffages^ at lall 

They fay the gentlewoman's fick. My miftrefs 

Goes on a vifit to her: not let in. 

Th' old gentleman, inform'd of all this, came 

On this occafion yefterday to town; 

And waited on the father of the Bride. 

What paft between them^ I as yet can't tell ; 

And yet I long to know the end of this. 

—There's the whole bufmefs. Now I'll on my way* 



* T/je hride ccr.cei^ud a dif- cei'/ed, and Philumena did not 

gufi to SoJlrata.'\ The explana- withdraw herfelf" from any real 

tion of things is very artfully difguil to her llep-mother, but 

refei-ved to its proper place; pretends a pique through ihame. 

ftr, in truth, Parmcno is de- Don at us. 



m. 



THE STEP-MOTHER. 127 

Phi. And I: for there's a ftranger here,* with whom 
1 have an aflignation. 

Par. Speed the plough I 

Pki. Parmeno, fare yon well! 

Par. Farewell j PhilotisI [^Exeunt fcverallp 



* There''s a firanger here, 
ISc.^^ Here Philotis afligns a 
Tcafon for her never appearing 
in the reft of the play. Do- 
KATirs. 

It were to be wifhed, for the 
fake of the credit of our au- 
thor's acknowledged art in the 
Drama^ that Philotis had af- 
figned as good a reafon for her 
appearing at all. Eugraphios 
juftly fays, Ea igitur tnerctrix, 
qua hie eji, longe a fabuid eft 
conftituta. — " The courtezan in 
•' this feene is a charadler quite 
" foreign to the fable." Do- 
natus alfo fays much the fame 
thing in his preface, and in his 
firft note on this comedy ; but 
adds, '* That Terence chofe 
" this method, rather than to 
*' relate the argument by means 
•' of a Prologue, or to intro- 
" duce a God fpeaking from a 
*■' machine." I will venture 
to fay that the Poet might have 
taken a much fhorter and eafier 
method than either; I mean, to 
have begun the play with the 
very fcene,- which now opens 
the fecond Aft. Parmeno's nar- 



ration muft be allowed to ht 
beautiful j bot to introduce twof 
charaders entirely foreign to the 
play, merely to hear this ftory^ 
is almoft as inartificial as relat- 
ing it dire<Elly to the audience : 
but what is flill vvorfe, when the 
tale is all told, the information 
we receive from it is idle and 
impertinent, and only ferves ta 
foreftal incidents, and throw a 
coldnefs on the fucceecintr 
icenes ; for there is not a fingle 
circumftanee in Parmeno's nar- 
ration,.but what unfolds itfelfim 
the courfe of the play ; and 
whoever begins this Comedy ac 
the fecond a(a, will take in the 
whole ilory as completely, as 
by beginning at the firft.— Imay 
venture therefore to pronounce 
this adl to be redundant, and tO' 
afirgn it as one of the caufes of 
the general complaint of the 
Want of vivacity in the fable of 
this comedy. A whole a6t con- 
fumed in narration, however 
neceflary, is not artificial ; but 
when that narration is ufelefs 
and fuperfluous, it becomes itill 
more inexcufable. 



A C 



128 



THE S T E P-M OTHER. 



****4''J****'f'*******4'*4^*^«t4''J*******-4»**4*****4*^'** 



A C T II. S C E N E I. 



* 



LACHES, SOSTRATA.* 



hach. /"^H heav'n and earth, what animals are 

V_^ women ! 
What a confpiracy between them all, 
To do or not to do, love or hate alike ! 
Not one but has the fex fo ftrong in her^^ 
She differs nothing from the reft. Step-mothers 
All hate their Step-daughters : and every wife 



* Laches, SoJIrata.'\ DonatUS 
remarks, that this fcene opens 
the intention of Terence to op- 
pofe the generally-received opi- 
nion, and to draw the character 
of a good Step-Mother. It 
would therefore, as has been 
already obferved, have been a 
very proper fcene to begin the 
play, as it carries us immedi- 
ately into the midft of things ; 
and we cannot fail to be inte- 
rcfted where we fee the perfons 
afting fo deeply interefted 
theniielves. We gather from 
it jull fo much of the ftcry, as 
is neceffary for our information 
at lirfl. fettintr out: V/e are cold 



of the abrupt departure of Phi- 
lumena, and are witneffes of the 
confufion in the two families 
of Laches and Phidippus. The 
abfence of Laches, which had 
been in great meafure the oc- 
cafion of this mifunderllanding, 
is alfo very artfully mentioned 
in the altercation between him 
and Softrata. The charader of 
Laches is very naturally drawn. 
He has a good heart, and a telly 
difpofition ; and the poor old 
gentleman is kept in fuch con- 
flant perplexity, that he has 
perpetual occafion to exert both 
thofe qualities. 

Studies 



THE STEP-MOTHER. 129 

Studies alike to contradi6l her hnlband. 

The fame perverfenefs running through them all. 

Each feems train'd up in the fame fchool of mifchief : 

And of that fchool, if any fuch there be, 

My wife, I think, is fchool-miftrefs. 

Scjlrata. Ah me ! 
Who know not why I am accus'd. 

Lach. Not know ? 

Sojlrata. No, as I hope for mercy ! as I hope 
We may live long together ! 

Lack. Heav'n forbid ! 

Softra. Hereafter, Laches, you'll be fenfible 
How wrongfully you have accus'd me. 

Lach. I.?— 

Accufe you wrongfully ? — Is't poflible 

To fpeak too hardly of your late behaviour ? 

Difgracing me,- yourfelf, and family ; 

Laying up forrow for your abfent fon -, 

Converting into foes his new-made frien<^s, 

Vv ho thought him worthy of their chiid in marriage. 

You've been our bane, and by your fhrewiihnefs 

Brew'd this difturbance. 

Sofira. I ? 

Lach. You, woman, you : 
Who take me for a flone, and not a man. 
Think ye, becaufe Vm moltly in the country, 
V\i\ Ignorant of your proceedings here .'* 
J'no, noi I know much better what's done here, 
Vol. II. . K Than 



I30 THE STEP-MOTHER. 

Than where I'm chiefly refident : becaufe. 

Upon my family at home depends 

My charafter abroad. I knew long fince 

Philumena's difguft to you; no wonder ! 

Nay, 'twere a wonder, had it not been fo. 

Yet I imagin'd not her hate fo ilrong, 

'Twould vent itfelf upon the family : 

Which had I dream'd of, Ihe Ihould have remain'd. 

And you pack'd off. — Confider, Softrata, 

How little caufe you had to vex me thus. 

In complaifance to you, and hufbanding 

My fortune, I retir'd into the country ; 

Scraping, and labouring beyond the bounds 

Of reafon, or my age, that my eftate 

Might furnifh means for your expence and pleafure. 

—Was it not then your duty, in return. 

To fee that nothing happen'd here to vex me ? 

Sojira. 'Tv/as not my doing, nor my fault indeed. 

Lach. 'Twas your fault, Softrata-, your fault alone. 
You were fole miftrefs here-, and in your care 
The houfe, tho' I had freed you of all other cares. 
A woman, an old woman too, and quarrel 
With a green girl! oh fhame upon't! — You'll fay 
That 'twas her fault. 

Sojira. Not I indeed, my Laches. 
Luch. Fore heav'n, I'm glad on't! on my fon's 
account. 

For 



THE STEP-MOTHER. 131 

For as for You, I'm well enough afllir'd 
No fault can make you worfe. 

Sojira. But prithee, hufband, 
Hov/ can you tell that her averfion to me 
Is not a mere pretence, that Ihe may (lay 
The longer with her mother ? 

Lach. No fuch thinsr. 
Was not your vifit yefterday a proof. 
From their denial to admit you to her ? 

Sojtra. They faid fhe was fo fick fhe could not 
fee m.e. 

Lach. Sick of your humours ; nothing elfe, I fancy. 
And well fhe might : for there's not one of you 
But want your fons to take a wife: and that's 
No fooner over, but the very woman, 
Which by your inftigation they have married, 
They, by your inftigation, put away. 

SCENE II. 
Enter P H I D I P P U S. 

Phid. to Phil. zvithi/L] Although, Philumena, I know 
my pow'r 
To force you to comply with my commands. 
Yet yielding to paternal tendernefs, 
I e'en give way, nor crofs your humour. 
Lach. See, 

K 2 Phi- 



132 



THE STEP-MOTHER. 



Phidippus in good time ! I'll learn from him 

The caufe of this.— [going up to him.] Phidippus,* tho' 

I own 
Myfelf indulgent to my family. 
Yet my complacency and eafmefs 
Runs not to that extreme, that my good-nature 
Corrupts their morals. Would you aft like me, 
'Twould be of fervice to both families. 
But you I fee are wholly in their pow'r. 
Phid. See there ! f 



* Phidippus^ tho' lonvny^c.^^ 
This expoftulation of Laches 
^vith Phidippus is a moil faith- 
ful and elegant copy of na- 
ture. His peace of mind being 
diftarbed by the. diforders he 
finds in his family, his ill-hu- 
mour, like that of moft married 
men, breaks out firft upon his 
wife ; but as family-fcenes, 
whether fweet or bitter, are fel- 
dom agreeable to a third per- 
fon, the prefence of Phidippus 
immediately puts an end to 
their dialogue. But the cir- 
cumftance which I moft ad- 
mire is, that although Laches 
had juft before thrown the 
whole blame on Softrata, he 
no fooner fees Phidippus, than 
he endeavours to exculpate his 
own family, and to infinuate 
that the whole fault lies on that 
of bis nt'if'hbour. 



f 5"^^ there /] Heia I'ero! Thcfe 
words, feemingly fo eafy, have 
yetpuzzled Commentators. Do- 
ratus makes them an adverb of 
interruption. Madam Dacier 
interprets them as addrefTed by 
Phidippus to his daughter, in 
reference to their converfatioa 
within, fignifying, *' Did not I 
" tell you they v/ould be cfFend- 
*' ed at your abfence?" For my 
part I take it to be an emotion 
of furprize mixed with difcon- 
content. Phidippus, while he 
is yet difcourfing with his 
daughter, is fuddenly accofted 
by Laches, and in language too 
that he did not much like. Up- 
on which he exclaims, //<:/« ^erol 
which words feem to anfwer 
pretty nearly to our phrafe. 
Look ye there fio^v ! a phrafe often 
ufed on the like occafions. Pa- 
trick.. 



Lack- 



THE STEP-MOTHER. i^^ 



oa 



Lach. I waited on you yefterday 
About your daughter : but I went away. 
No wiler than I came. It is not right, 
If you would have the alliance lafl between us. 
To Imother your refentment. If We feern 
In fault, declare itj that we may refute. 
Or make amends for our offence : and you 
Shall carve the fatisfadrion out yourlclf. 
But if her ficknefs only is the caufe 
Of her remaining in your family, 
Truft me, Phidippus, but you do me wrong. 
To doubt her due attendance at my houfe. 
For, by the pow'rs of heav'n, I'll not allow 
That you, altho' her father, wifn her better 
Than I. I love her on my fon's account ; 
To v/hom, I'm v/ell convinc'd, fhe is as dear 
As he is to himfelf : and I can tell * 
How deeply 'twill affect him, if he knows this. 
Wherefore I wifh fhe fnould come home again. 
Before my fon's return. 

Phid. My good friend Laches, 
I know your care, and your benevolence •, 
Nor doubt but all is as you fay; and hope 
That you'll believe I wilh for her return, 
So I could but efieft it, 

* / can tell boiu deeply, tff.] by Paniplillus for his pretended 
Here the Poet very artfully difcontent at the departure of 
prepares a reafon to be afligned his wife, Donatus. 

K 3 Lach. 



134 THE STEP-MOTHER. 

Lach. What prevents it ? 
Tell me, Phidippus ! does Ihe blame her hnfband ? 

Phid. Not in the leaft. For when I urg'd it home. 
And threaten'd to oblige her to return, 
She vow'd moft folemnly, fhe could not bear 
Your houfe, fo long as Pamphilus was abfent. 
—All have their failings : I am of fo foft 
A nature, I can't thwart my family. 

Lach. *Ha, Soflrata ! [^<? Softrata ^^^r/. 

Softra. Wretch that I am ! Ah me ! \_aftde. 

Lach. And her return's impofTible .'' [/^ Phidippus. 

Phid. Atprcfent. 
—-Would you aught elfe with me ? for I have bufinefs 
That calls me to the Forum. 

Lach. I'll go with you. \_Exeunt. 

SCENE III. 
Manei S O S J R A T A. 

Sofira. How unjuftly 
Do hufbands ftretch their cenfures to all wives, 

* Hn, Softraia /] This is ex- behaviour of Softrata ? She de- 

tremely artful. Theanfwerof clar'es her innocence 5 yet ap- 

Pliilumena, as related by Phi- pearances are all againft her. 

dippus, contains an ample vin- Suppofing this to be theiirft ad 

dication of Pamphilus. What of the play, it would be im- 

then can we fuppofe could poffible for a Comedy to open 

. make the houfe fo difagreeable in amore interefting manner, 
to her in his abfence, bi^t the 

Becaufe 



THE STEP-MOTHER. 135 

Becaufe of the offences of a few, 

Whofe faults refledl difhonour on the reft ! 

For, heav'n fo help me, as I'm innocent 

Of what my hufband now accufes me ! 

But 'tis no eafy tafk to clear myfelf j 

So fix'd and rooted is the notion in them. 

That Step-Mothers are all fevere.— Not I; 

For J have ever lov'd Phiiumena, 

As my own daughter ; nor can I conceive 

What accident has drav/n her hatred on me. 

My Ton's return, I hope, will fettle all •, 

And, ah, I've too much caufe to wiili his coming. [Exif. 



K 4 A ^'T 



1^6 THE STEP-MOTHER. 



ACT III. SCENE I. 
PAMPHILUS, PAR ME NO. 

PtiM. "T^TEVER did man experience greater ills, 

i. >i More miferies in love than I. — Dillradtion ! 
Was it for This I held my life fo dear ? 
For This was I fo anxious to return ? 
Better, much better were it to have liv'd 
In any place, than come to this again ! 
To feel, and know myfelf a wretch! — For when* 
Mifchance befais us, all the interval 
Between its happening, and our knowledge of it. 
May be efleem'd clear gain. 

Par. But as it is, 
You'll fooner be deliver'd from your troubles. 
For had you not return'd, the breach between them 
Had been made wider. But now, Pamphilus, 

■* For riuhen mifchance, l£c.'\ A fimllar fentiment occurs in Mil- 
ton's mafque of Comus. 

Peace, brother ; be not over-exquifite 
To cafl: the fafhion of uncertain evils ; 
For grant they be Jo, ivhile they rejl unknown:?:. 
What need a man/crejiall his date of grief, 
jlnd run to meet luha: he luould mcji a-vcid ? 
Or if they be but falle alarms of fear. 
How bitter is fuch felf-delufion ? 

Both 



THE STEP-MOTHER. 137 

Both will, I doubt not, reverence your prefence. 
You'll know the whole, make up their difference, 
And reconcile them to each other.— Thefe 
Are all mere trifles, which you think fo grievous. 

Pam. Ah, why will you attempt to comfort me? 
Was ever fuch a wretch? — Before I married. 
My heart, you know, was wedded to another. 
— But I'll not dwell upon that mifery, 
Which may be eafily conceiv'd : and yet 
I had not courage to refufe the match 
My father forc'd upon me. — Scarcely wean*d 
From my old love, my lim'd foul fcarcely freed 
From Bacchis, and devoted to my wife. 
Than, lo, a new calamity arifes. 
Threatening to tear me from Philumena. 
For either I fhall find my mother faulty. 
Or elfe m.y wife : In either cafe unhappy. 
For duty, Parmeno, obliges me 
To bear v/ith all the failings of a mother : 
And then I am fo bounden to my wife. 
Who, calm as patience, bore the wrongs I did her. 
Nor ever m.urmur'd a complaint. — But fure 
'Twas fomev/hat very ferious, Parmeno, 
That could occafion fuch a lading quarrel. 

Par. Rather fome trifle, if you knew the truth. 
The greatcil quarrels do not always rife 
From deepefi injuries. We often fee. 

That 



138 THE STEP-MOTHER. 

That what wou'd never move another's fpleen. 
Renders the cholerick your word of foes. 
Obferve how lightly children fquabble. — Why ? 
Becaufe they're govern'd by a feeble mind. 
Women, like children, too are impotent, 
And weak of foul. A fmgle word, perhaps. 
Has kindled all this enmity between them. 

Pam. *Go, Parmeno, and let them know I'm come. 

\noife within. 
Par. Ha ! what's all this ? 
Pam. Hulh! 
Par. I perceive a buftle. 
And running to and fro. — Come this way. Sir ! 
: — To the door! — nearer ftill! — There, there, d'ye hear? 

[noife continues. 
Pam. Peace; hulh! [^Jhriek within.'] Oh. ]\x^\x.tv, I 

heard a fhriek ! 
Par. You talk yourfelf, and bid me hold my 

tongue. 
Myrrhi7iay within.] Hufli, my dear child, for 

heaven's fake ! 
Pam. It feem'd 
The voice of my wife's mother. I am ruin*d ! 
Par. How fo. 

* Go, Parmmo, and let them to fend a meffenger before, io 

kno^jj Pm come.'] It was the give his wife notice of his ar- 

cuftom of thofe times, for the rival. Dacier. 
hulband returning from abroad 

Pam. 



THE STEP-MOTHER. 139 

Pam. Undone ! 

Par. And why ? 

Pam, Ah, Parmeno, 
They hide fome terrible misfortune from me ! 

Par. They faid, your wife Philumena was ill : 
Whether 'tis that, I cannot tell. 

Pam. Death, firrah ! 
Why did you not inform me that before ? 

Par. Becaufe I could not tell you all at once. 

Pam. What's her diforder ? 

Par. I don't know, 

Pam. But tell me. 
Has fhe had no phyfician ? 

Par. I don't know. 

Pam. But why do I delay to enter Itraight, 
That I may learn the truth, be what it will ? 
— Oh my Philumena, in what condition 
Shall I now find thee ? — If there's danger of thee, 
My life's in danger too. \_Exit. 



SCENE II. 
PARMENO alone. 

It were not good 

That I ihoujd follow him ipto the houfe : 



For 



140 



THE STEP-MOTHER. 



For all our family are odious to them.* 

That's plain from their denying Soltrata 

Admittance yefterday. — And if by chance 

Her illnefs fhould increafe, (which heav*n forbid. 

For my poor mafter's fake !) they'll cry diredly, 

" Soltrata's fervant came into the houfe :" 

Swear, — " that I brought the plague along with me, 

" Put all their lives in danger, and encreas'd 

" Philumena's diftemper." — By which means. 

My miflrefs will be blam'd, and I be beaten. 

SCENE III. 

Enter SOSTRATA. 



Sojlra, Alas, I hear a dreadful noife within. 
Philumena, I fear, grows worfe and v/orfe : 
Which ^fculapius, and thou. Health, forbid ! f 
But now I'll vifit her. [.K^^^ towards the houfe.. 



* For all our family are odious 
to them.l The Poet very art- 
fully devifes a reafon to prevent 
not only Parmeno, but Soilrata 
alfo, from entering the houfe. 

DONATUS. 

•f Which ^fculapius, and thou. 
Health, ^V.] She invokes the 
Goddefs of Health together 
"with j^fculapius, becaufe in 
Greece their liatues were al- 
ways placed near each other, 

3 



fo that to offer up prayers to 
the one and not to the other, 
would have been held the 
higheft indignity to the power 
neglefted. — Lucian in his Hip- 
pis lays, KUt iiMVc; iv avrm A<9s 
AfviJcH rni afXutz^ tfyxaiaz, « i-isv 
Tynci.;, nJi 'Air«A7)Tiy. It contains 
tauo ivhite 7narble Jlatues of I'cry 
ancient lucrhmanfjip, the otic of 
the Goddefs of Health, the other of 
uEfculapiu s. D A c I E R . 

Par* 



THE STEP-MOTHER. 141 

Par. Ho, Softrata ! 

Softra. Who's there ? 

Par. You'll be fhnt out a fecond time. 

Sojira. Ha, Parmeno, are you there ? — Wretched 
woman ! 
What fhall I do? —Not vifit my fon's wife. 
When fhe lies fick at next door ? 

Par. Do not go •, 
No, nor fend any body elfe ; for they. 
That love the folks, to whom themfelves are odious, 
I think are guilty of a double folly : 
Their labour proves but idle to themfelves, 
And troublefome to thofe for whom *tis meant. 
Befides, your fon, the moment he arriv'd. 
Went in to vifit her. 

Sojira. How, Parmeno ! 
Is Pamphilus arriv'd ? 

Par. He is. 

Sojira. Thank heav'n ! 
Oh, how my comfort is reviv'd by that ! 

Par. And therefore I ne'er went into the houfe. 
For if Philumena's complaints abate, 
She'll tell him, face to face, the whole affair. 
And what has paft between you to create 
This difference. — But here he comes — hov/ fad ! 



SCENE 



.14a THE STEP-MOTHER. 

SCENE IV. 

Enter PAMPHILUS. 

Sojlra. My dear boy, Pamphilus ! 

Pam. My mother, fave you ! \diforder*d. 

Softra. I'm glad to fee you fafe return'd. — How does 
Your wife ? 

Pam. A little better. 

Sojlra. Grant it, heav'n ! 
— But why dijc weep, and why are you fo fad ? 

Pam. Nothing, good mother. 

Softra. What was all that bufcle ? 
Tell me, did pain attack her fuddenly ? 

Pam. It did. 

Sojira. And what is her complaint ? 

Pam. A fever. 

Sojlra. What ! a quotidian ? 

Pam. So they fay. — But in,* 

* But in, good mot Jier.'^ The or give an an Aver of above two 

behaviour of Pamphilus in this words : and finding himfelf un- 

fcene is raoft faithfully copied fit for converfation or company, 

from nature. Being fhockcd he finds means to remove Sof- 

with the difcovery he has made, trata and Parmeno as foon as 

he leaves the houfe in great poiTible. When any unexpee- 

anguifh, which, though he ted grief takes hoU of u?, vvit^ 

wilhes to diflemble, he is un- ncflbs lay a conllraint on our bc- 

able to conceal. He cannot re- haviour, and we are apt to wiih 

ceive his mother as he ought, to be alone, in order to deliver 

oar- 



THE STEP-MOTHER. 14^ 

Good mother, and I'll follow. 

Sojira. Be it fo.j [ExiL 

Pam. Do you run, Parmeno, to meet the fervants, 
And give your help in bringing home the baggage. 

Par. As if they did not know the road ? 

Pam. Away ! [^Exit Parmeno. 

SCENE V. 

PAMPHILUS ahne. 

Which way fhall I begin the wretched tale 
Of my misfortunes, which have fall'n upon me 
Thus unexpe(5tedly ? which even now 
Thefe very eyes have feen, thefe ears have heard ? 
And which, difcover'd, drove me out o'doors, 
Cover'd with deep confufion ? — For but now 
As I rufli'd in, all anxious for my wife, 
And thinking to have found her vifited, 
Alas, with a far different complaint -, 
Soon as her women faw me, at firft fight 
Struck and o'erjoy'd, they all exclaim'd, " He's 
" come !" 

ourfelves up entirely to the na- uneafinefs by half-words and 
tural emotions of the mind, fhort fpeeches ; but foon find- 
There -is a very fuperior in- ing it impoffible to fmotber his 
ftance of the like beauty in diforder much longer, he orders 
Othello, in the fcene where the lago to leave him ; upon which 
Moor is worked up to jealoufy he immediately burlls into an 
by lago. He firll tsftifies his agony of pafiion. 

And 



144 THE STEPMOTHER. 

And then as foon each countenance was chang'd. 

That chance had brouglit me (o unfeafonably. 

Meanwhile one of them ran before, to fpeak 

Of my arrival. I, who long'd to fee her, 

Diredly follow'd ; and no fooner enter'd, 

Than her diforder was, alas, too plain : 

For neither had they leifure to difguife it, 

Nor could fhe filence the loud cries of travail. 

Soon as I faw it, " Oh Ihame, Ihame!" I cried. 

And rufh'd av/ay in tears and agony, 

O'erwhelm'd with horror at a ilroke fo grievous. 

The mother follows me, and at the threfhold 

Falls on her knees before me all in tears. 

This touch'd me to the foul. And certainly 

'Tis in the very nature of our minds. 

To rife and fall according to our fortunes. 

Thus file addrefs'd me. — " Oh, my Pamphilus, 

*' The caufe of her removal from your houfe, 

" You've now difcover'd. To my virgin-daughter 

" Some unknown villain offer d violence j 

" And Die fled hither to conceal her labour 

*' From you, and from your family." Alas ! 

"When I but call her earneft prayers to mind, 

I cannot chufe but v.'cep. — " Whatever chance,'* 

Continued fne, *' whatever accident, 

*' Brought you to-day thus fuddenly upon us, 

'■'' Bv that we both coniurc vou— if in iuftice, 

" And equity we may ---to keep in fiience, 

" And 



ic 



« * 



THE STEP-MOTHER. 145 

And cover her diftrefs.— Oh, Pamphilus, 
If e'er you witnefs'd her affedion for you. 
By that affeftion fhe implores you now. 
Not to refufe us! — for recalling her, 
Do as your own difcretion fhall dired. 
That Ihe's in labour now, or has conceiv'd 
By any other perfon, is a fecret 
Known but to you alone. For Fve been told, 
The two firft months you had no commerce with her, 
And it is now the feventh fince your union* 



* Ajid it is nonv the fenjenth 
Jtnce your union.^ There are 
many doubts concerning the in- 
terpretation of this line in the 
original — Turn ^oJ}quam ad te 
-jetiit, meiiJIs agitur hie jam fep- 

iimui 1 have rendered the 

line by a tranflaticn equally 
equivocal. Some imagine that 
it means the feventh month 
fronn their marriage ; and others 
explain it to be the feventh 
inonth from the time that Pam- 
philus had knowledge of his 
wife. The words Pofiquam ad 
te lenit, taken limply, f em to 
countenance the former inter- 
pretation; but the nature of the 
tircumilance, as well as thelines 
immediately preceding, toge- 
ther v/ith what Phidippusfays in 
thenextaft.all favour the latter. 

It is necefTary to the under- 
ftanding the fable of this Co- 
medy, that the Engliih Reader 
fnould know that the Grecians 

Vol.. II. 



had a power of putting away 
their wives on refunding the 
portion. 

There are feveral circumftan* 
ces in the plot of this play rather 
irreconcilable to modern ideas 
of delicacy; but as they have 
in them no mo.-al turpitude, 
they gave no oifence to the 
Antients. There are no lefs 
than three of the fix plays of 
Terence, in which we have a 
lady in the ftraw, and in two 
v/e abfolutely hear her cry out. 
The Moderns on the contrary 
have chofen, as fubjcfts of ri- 
dicule, things which the Anti- 
ents would have confideredv.'ith 
horror. Adultery has been 
looked upon byWycherly, Con- 
greve, and Vanburgb, asavery 
good joke, and an inexhaullible 
fund of humour and pleafantry; 
and " our Englilh Writers," as 
Addifon ohferves, " areas fre- 
" quently fevcre spon that in- 
L ♦• nocent 



246 THE STEP-MOTHER. 

" Your fentiments on this are evident, 

" But now, my Pamphilus, if pofTible, 

*' I'll call it a mifcarriage : no one elfe 

" But will believe, as probable, 'tis your's, 

" The child fhall be immediately expos'd, 

*' No inconvenience will arife to You j 

*' While thus you Ihall conceal the injury, 

" * That my poor girl unworthily fuflain'd." 

— I promis'd her j and I will keep my word. 

But to recall her, wou'd be poor indeed : 

Nor will I do it, tho' I love her ftill. 

And former commerce binds me ftrongly to her. 

-5~I can't but weep, to think how fad and lonely 

My future life will be — Oh fickle fortune ! 

How tranfient are thy fmiles ! — But I've been fchoord 

To patience by my former haplefs paflion. 

Which I fubdued by reafon: and I'll try 

By reafon to fubdue this too.— But yonder 

Comes Parmeno, I fee, with th' other flaves ! 

nocent unhappy creature, ter fhould notput Pamphilusia 

commonly known by the mind of hij own adventure, 

name of a Cuckold, as the which comes out in the fifth 

AncientComickVVriterswere adl. It is certain, that had the 

upon an Eating Parafite, or a Poet let the Audience into that 

Vain Glorious Soldier." fecret in this place, they would 

have immediately concluded 

* That my poor girl un-.vorthily tliat the wife of Pamphilus, and 

fuftain'd.'] It is rather extra- the lady whom he had ravilhed, 

ordinary thatMyrrhina's account vvere ons and the fame perfon. 
ot the injury done to her daugh- 

He 



TI-iE STEP-MOTHER. 

He muft by no means now be prefenr, fince 

To him alone, I formerly reveal'd,* 

That I abftain'd from her when firll v/e married: 

And if he hears her frequent cries, I fear. 

That he'll difcover her to be in labour. 

I muil difpatch him on fome idle errand. 

Until Philumena's deliver'd.f 



M7 



* To him alone f 1 formerly rt- 
fveaVd, l^cJ] I cannot help 
thinking this circumftance a 
more than ordinary overfightin 
fo correfl a writer as Terence. 
By entrufting theinquifuive and 
babbling Parmeno with his fe- 
cret, he certainly appears to ac- 
quaint him with more of the 
real truth, than it was even his 
own intention to have him fup- 
pofed to know. In the laft 
fcene of the play Pamphiius 
conceals from him thedifcovery 
concerning Philumena; but that 
fhe had retired home, merely 
for the purpofe of lying-in, is 
a fa£l which would not be in 
his power to conceal. In regard 
to Laches, Phidippus, and Sof- 
trata, this fad indeed is of no 
confequence: but Parmeno, who 
had been entrufted with the fe- 
cret of his mailer's abllinence, 
muft either conclude the child 
to be no fon of Pamphiius, and 
confider his mailer as a con- 
tented cuckold, or guefs at the 
real ilate of the cafe. Either 
way, the intention of the Poet 



is defeated ; and what is fllll 
worfe than even Parmeno's be- 
ing acquainted with it himfelf, 
we know that he had commu- 
nicated it to a couple of courte- 
zans ; fo that this myllery is 
indeed likely to be what the 
P'rench call k fecret de la Co- 
medie, though not in the fenfe 
that Terence himfelf propofed. 

-f- Until Philumena's deli-ver^d.^ 
It is obferved by the Rev. Mr. 
JofephWarton, in his judicious 
critical papers in the Adven- 
turer, that ■" Terence fupcr- 
" abounds in foliloquies ; and 
" that nothing can be more in- 
" artificial, or improper, than 
" the manner in which he hath 
*' introduced them :" and we 
may add to this obfervation, 
that there' is no play cf Terence, 
in which he has fo much tranf- 
grefled that v. ay, as in the Scen- 
Mother. The prefent long fo- 
liloquy is a mofl fisgrant in- 
ftance of want of art and pro- 
priety. There are in it many 
affefting touches, and it informs 
L 2 us, 



,148 



THE STEP-MOTHER. 



SCENE VI. 

Enter at a diftance PARMENO, SOSIA, and other 

Slaves with baggage. 



Par. to Sofia. Ay ? 
And had you fuch a wretched voyage, fay you ? 

Sofia. O Parmeno, words can't exprefs how wretched 
A fea-life is. 



us, at a proper period, of a 
very important part of the 
fable ; though Monf. Diderot 
thinks that the return of Pam- 
philus would have been infi- 
nitely more interefting, if this 
difcovery had been made before. 
The fame ingenious French 
Writer lays it down as a rule 
without exception, that " a 
" foliloqiiy is an interval of re- 
«' pofe in the aftion, and of 
*' agitation in the charafter." 
This rule, I believe, ought to 
be moft commonly obferved in 
writing foliloquies : but the 
fa£l is direftly oppofite in the 
fpliloquy now before us. The 
plot proceeds; and the adlion 
is carried on by the worfl me- 
thod poffible, that of convert- 
ing one of the perfonages into 
a kind of chorus, interpreting 
between the Poet and Audience, 
like Hamlet to Ophelia. The 
agitation of Pamphilus alfo is 



very different from that of 
Othello, referred to in a former 
note. It does not confift, as it 
ought in nature to have done, 
merely of deliberation and paf- 
fion ; but he enters into a mi- 
nute detail, and repeats me- 
thodically every circumflance 
fuppofed to have paft within. 
How much more dramatick 
would it have been to have had 
his bitter refledlions interrupted 
by the intervention of Myr- 
rhina; which would have given 
the Poet an opportunity of 
throwing that narrative part of 
the folilcquy into an affefting 
fcene ? I cannot help thinking 
that the tedious length of this 
ill-timed foliloquy, together 
with the want of vivacity in the 
firft and lafl: adls, was the chief 
reafon of the low reputation of 
this piece among the criticks of 
antiquity. 

Par, 



THE STEP-MOTHER. i4S> 

Par. Indeed ? 

Sofia. Oh happy Parmeno ! 
You little know the dangers youVe efcap'd. 
Who've never been at fea.— For not to dwell 
On other hardfliips, only think of this ! 
I was on fhip- board thirty days or more. 
In conilant fear of finking all the while, 
The winds fo contrary, fuch ftormy weather ! 

Par. Dreadful ! 

Sofia. I found it fo, I promife you. 
InJhort, were I affur'd I muft return, 
'fore heaven, Parmeno, I'd run away. 
Rather than go on board a fhip again. 

Par. You have been apt enough to think of that 
On [lighter reafon, Sofia,' before now. 
— But yonder's my young mafter Pamphilus 
Standing before that door. — Go in ! I'll to him. 
And fee if he has any bufinefs for me. 
[Exeunt Sofia, andthcrejtof the Slaves, with the baggage, 
Mafter, are you here ftill ^ {to Pamphilus, 

Pam. Oh Parmeno ! 
I waited for you. 

Par. What's your pleafure. Sir? 

Pam. Run to the Citadel.* 

* 'The Citadel.1 This is no fiderable diftance from the city, 

doubt to be underftood, as and therefore better fuited to 

Madam Dacier fuppofes, of the the defjgn of Pamphilus, which 

Fort, or Citadel, that defended was to keep Parmeno for fomc 

thePiraeum. It was at a «on- time at a dlftance. Patrick. 

L 3 P^n 



1^0 T H E S T E P-M O T H E R. 

Par. Who ? 

Pain. You. 

Par. The Citadel ! 
For what ? 

Pam. Find out one Callidemides, 
My landlord of Mycone, v/ho came over 
In the fame fnipwith me. 

Pfj\ A plague upon it ! * 

Would not one fv/ear that he had made a vow '^^ 
To break m.y vvind, if he came home in fafety. 
With running on his errands ? 

Pant. Av/ay, Sirrah ! 

Par. What melfage? Mufl I only find him out? 

Pa?n. Yes; tell him, that it is not in my power 
To meet him there to-day, as I appointed; 
That he mayn't wait for me in vain.— Hence-, fly! 

Par. But I don't know him, if I fee him, Sir. 
. Pfij-n. impatiently.'] Well; I'll defcribe him fo, you 

cannot mifs him. 
■ — A large, red, frizzle-pated, grofs, blear-eyed. 
Ill-looking fellow. 

Par. Plague on him, fay I ! 
— What if he Ihould not come, Sir, muft J wait 
Till evening for him ^ 

* 7hcjt he had made a <i;o^', in a dangerous voyage vowing 
^V.j This is a facetious al- to perform particular adls in 
Jufion to the cuitom among the cafe they came home in fafety. 

antients, of perfons engaged Donatus. 

•>''■■•'■,' 

f:am. 



THE STEP-MOTHER. 151 

Pam. Yes.— Be quick ! 
Par. Be quick ? 
I can't be quick, — I'm fo much tir'd. [Ex-iL 



SCENE VII. 
PAMPHILUS alone. 

He's gone. 

What fliall I do ? Alas, I fcarcely know 
How to conceal, as Myrrhina defir'd. 
Her daughter's labour. Yet I pity her ; 
And what I can, confiflent with my duty, 
I am refolv'd to do : and yet my parents * 
Muft be obey'd before my love. — But fee ! 
My father and Phidippus come this way. 
How I fhall ad, heav'n knows. 



* My parents, i^c] This reflec- covery his anxiety proceeds en- 

tlonfeems to be rather improper tirely from the fuppofed injury 

in this place: forthedifcoveryof offered him, and his filial piety 

Philumena's labour betrayed to is from that period made ufe of 

Pamphilus the real motive of merely as a pretence, 
har departure : after which dif- 



L 4 



SCENE r" 



/ 



i^2 THE STEP-MOTHER. 

SCENE VIII. 

i.nter at a dijiance LACPJES, ^>^i PHIDIPPUS, 

Lach. Did not you fay 
She only waited my fon's coming ? 

Phi.^ Ay. 

JLach. They fay that he's arrived. Let her returiai 
then I 

Pam, behind.'] What reafon I fhall frame to giv© 
my father. 
For not recalling her, I cannot tell. 

Lach, overhearing.'] Whofe voice was that? 

Pam. to himfelf.] And yet I am refolv'd 
To ftand to my firft purpofe. 

Lach. feeing Pamphilus.] He himfelf. 
Whom I was fpeaking of ! 

Patn. going up-J] My father, fave you \ 

Lach. Save you, my fon ! 

Phid. Pamphilus, welcome home ! 
I'm glad to fee you fafe, and in good health. 

Pam. I do believe it. 

Lach. Are you jufl now come ? 

Pam. Jufl now. Sir, ' 

Lach. Well; and tell me, Pamphilus, 
What has our kinfman Phania left us ? 

Par,h 



THE STEP-MOTHER. 153 

Pam. Ah, Sir ! 
Jle, his whole life-time, was a man of pleafurej 
And fuch men feldom much enrich their heirs. 
Yet he lus left at leaft this praife behind Iiim, 
^ While he liv'd, he liv'd well.'^ 

Lach. And have you brought* 
[Nothing home with you but this fingle fentence ? 

Pam. What he has left, tho' fmall, is of ad- 
vantage, 

Lach. Advantage ? No, it is a difadvantage : 
For I could wifh he was alive and well. 

Phid. That you may fafelyj fmce your wifhing for't 
Will never bring the man to life again : 
Yet I know well enough which you'd like beft. \_afide. 

Lach. to Pam.] Phidippus order'd that Philumena 
Should be fent over to him yefterday. 
— ■ — Say that you order'd it. 

[ajide to Phidippus, thrujling hiin^ 

Phi. aJide to Laches.] Don't thruft me fo. 
\ did. [aloud. 

Lach. But now he'll fend her home again. 

Phid. I will. 

Pam. Nay, nay, I know the whole affair. 

• Jndhmie you brought, ^c."] old man gaping for a fat legacy, 

Turn tu igitur nihil attulijii hac and having his mouth flopped 

flus unafententia. This is taken with a moral precept, is truly 

notice of by Donatusas aparti- comick. See Hujd's Horace, 

cular happy ftroke ofcharafter: vol, !■ P« 272. 
and indeed the idea of a covetous 

5inft 



S54 



THE STEP-MOTHER. 



Since my arrival, I have heard it all. 

Lach. Now, plague upon thefe envious tale-bearers, 
Who are fo glad to fetch and carry news ! 

Pam, to Phi.'] That I've endeavour'd to defer/e 
no blame 
From any of the family, Fm confcious. 
"Were it my inclination to relate, 
How true I've been, how kind, and gentle tow'rds 

her, 
I well might do it : But I rather chufe. 
You Ihould colled it from herfelf. For when 
She, altho' now there's enmity between us, 
Befpeaks me fair, you will the fooner credit 
My difpofition tow'rds her. And I call 
The Gods to witnefs, that this reparation 
Has not arifen from my fault. But fince 
She thinks it is beneath her to comply 
With Soflrata, and bear my mother's temper 5 
And fmce no other means are to be found 
Of reconciliation, I, Phidippus, 
Muft leave my mother or Philumena. 
Duty then calls me to regard my mother. 

Lach. My Pamphilus, I cannot be difpleas'd. 
That you prefer to all the world a parent. 
But take heed, your refentment don't tranfport you 
Peyond the bounds of reafon, Pamphilus ! 
Pam. Ah, what refentment can I bear to her, 

I W1>o 



THE STEP-MOTHER. 155 

Who ne'er did any thing I'd wifh undone. 
But has fo often deferv'd well of me ? 
I love her, own her worth, and languilli for her ; 
For I have known her tepdernefs of foul : 
And heaven grant, that with fome other hufband 
She find that happinefs fhe mift in me ; 
I'rom whom the ftrong hand of neceflity 
Divorces her for ever ! 

Phid. That event 
'Tis in your pow'r to hinder* 

Lach. If you're wife. 
Take your wife home again ! 

Pam. I cannot, fadier. 
I muft not flack my duty to my mother. [going, 

Lach. Where are you going ? [^Exit Pamphilos, 



SCENE IX. 

Manent LACHES, and PHIDIPPUS, 

Phi. How perverfe is this ! [^angrily. 

Lach. Did not I fay he'd take it ill, Phidippus," 
And therefore begg'd you to fend back your daughter ? 

Phid. 'Fore heaven, I did not think him fuch a 
churl. 
What ! does he fancy I'll go cringing to him .'' 

No; 



156 THE STEP-MOTHER. 

No J — if ht'U take his wife, he may: — if not. 
Let him refund her portion j — there's an end ! 

Lack. See there now ! you're as fraflious as himfelf. 

Phi, You're come back obftinate and proud 
enough 
In confcience, Pamphilus ! ' [angrily^ 

Lach. This anger will fubfidc, 
Tho' he has had fome cauie to be difturb'd. 

Phi. Becaufe you've had a little money left you^ 
Your minds are fo exalted ! 

Lach. What! d'ye quarrel 
^With Me too ? 

Phi. Let him take to-day to think on*t. 
And fend me word if he will have her home. 
Or not: that if fhe don't remain his wife. 
She may be given to another. \_Exit hajtily^ 



SCENE X. 

LACHES alone. 

Stay! 

Hear me! one word, Phidippus! Stay! — He's gone. 
— What is't to me? [^angrily.'] E'en let them fettle it 
Among themfelves ; fmce nor my fon, nor He 
Take my advice, nor mind one word I fay. 
jr-This quarrel Ihall go round, I promife them : 

rii 



THE STEP-MOTHER. 157 

I'll to my wife, the author of this mifchief. 

And vent my fpleen and anger upon Her.* [Exit* 



* And vent my fpleen and anger 
upon her.'] There are few fcenes 
of comedy more truly humour- 
ous than the fituation and be- 
haviour of the two old gentle- 
men at the conclufion of this 
a£l. The natural, but uncom- 
mtnconduft of Pamphilus; its 



efFeft on Phidippus ; his treat- 
ment of Laches and abrupt de- 
parture; and then again the emo- 
tions of Laches on the ufage he 
had experienced from his fon and 
his neighbour, are all very plea- 
fant,and muft produce an admi- 
rableeJFeft in thp reprefentatiou. 



ACT 



J5S THE STEP-MOTHER^ 

A C T IV. S C E N E L 

Enter M Y R R H I N A hajlily. 

il^rr.TT THAT fliall I do!— Confufion!— whicfe 

V V way turn ? 

Alas, what anfwer Ihall I make my hufband? 
For I dare fay he heard the infant's cries, 
He ran fo hailily, without a v/ord, 
Into my daughter's chamber. If he finds 
That fhe has been deliver'd, what excufe 
To make, for having thus conceal'd her labour, 
I can't devife. — But our door creaivs !— 'Tis He, 
I am undone. 

SCENE II. 
Enter P H I D I P P U S. 

Phi. Soon as my wife perceiv'd* 
That I was going to my daughter's chamber, 

• Soon as my 'zvife percei'v'J, Dacier joins this fcene to the 
^fff.] Uxor ubi }ne ad fliam ire third aft, and afiigns this verfe 
/ej[fit, fe du.x'it foras. Madam as her reafon for it, I have 

chofen 



THE STEP-MOTHER. 159 

She ftole diredlly out o'doors. — But fee ! 
Yonder fhe ftands. — Why, how now, Myrrhina ? 
Holo, I fay ! [She affe^s not to fee him, 

Myrr. D'ye call me, hufband ? 

Phid. Hufband ! 
Am I your hufband? am I ev'n a man ? 
For had you thought me to be either, Woman, 
You would not dare to play upon me thus. 

Myrr. How ! 

Phid. How ? My daughter has been brought 

to bed. 
—Ha! are you dumb? — by whom? 

Myrr. Is that a queflion 
For you, who are her father, to demand? 
Alas ! by whom d'ye think, unlefs her hufband ? 

Phid. So I believe: nor is it for a father 



chofen rather to follow the old 
divifion, which feems to me to 
be the right. This fcene brings 
on a new part of the plot ; 
which occupies the reft of this 
fourth adl. The continuity of 
the fcenes being broken at the 
departure of Myrrhina proves 
nothing, or too much : for Te- 
rence often takes that liberty in 
the middle of an aft, and the 
fcene is^ certainly left vacant by 
Laches. Befides, Myrrhina does 
not, as Madam Dacier afTerts, 
leave the hoiife immediately on 
the entrance of Pbidippus, in 
©rder to avoid him j but is 



frightened out of doors by his 
running to Philumena's chamber 
on hearing the cries of the 
Child. This, it is moft natu- 
ral to fuppofe, happened fome 
time after he had returned home, 
and all thefe circumfiances are 
with much greater propriety 
made to fill the interval between 
the two a£ls, than huddled into 
the compafs of fix lines. Te- 
rence, indeed, fometimes runs 
into that very abfurdity ; but I 
think v.'e need not induftrioufly 
force him out of his way on 
purpofe to make him guilty of 
it. 

To 



i^b T H £ S T E V-M OTHER. 

To fuppofe otherwife : But yet I wonder. 

That you have thus conceal'd her labour from us I 

Efpecially as fhe has been deliver'd 

At her full time, and all is as it Ihou'd be. 

What ! Is there fuch perverfenefs in your nature^ 

As rather to defire the infant's death. 

Than that his birth fhou'd knit the bond of friendfliip 

Clofer betwixt us j rather than my daughter, 

Ap-ainft your liking, Ihou'd remain the wife 

Of Pamphilus? — I thought all this confufion 

Had been Their fault, while You're alone to blame^ 

Myrr> How wretched am I ! 

Phid. Would to heav'n you were ! 

But now I recolie6t your converfation 

V<4ien firft we made this match, you then declared 
You'd not endure ilie fhould remain the wife 
Of Pamphilus, who follow'd miflrelTeSi 
And pafs'd the nights abroad. 

Myrr. I had much rather 
He fhould think any reafon than the true. [ajide. 

Phid. I knew he kept a miilrefs ; knew it long 
Ere you did, Myrrhinaj but I could never 
Think that offence fo grievous in a youth, 
Seeing 'tis natural to them all : and foon 
The time (hall come, when he'll Hand feif-reprov'di 
But you, perverfe and wilful as at firft, 
Could take no reft, till you had brought away 
Your daughter, and annuil'd the match, I made : 

There's 
5 



THE STEP-MOTHER. i6i 

There's not a circumftance, but loudly fpeaks 
Your evil difpofition to the marriage. 

Myrr. D'ye think me then fo obftinate, that I, 
Who am her mother, lliould betray this fpirit, 
Granting the match, were of advantage to us ? 

Phid. Is it for You then to forefee, or judge 
What's of advantage to us ? You perhaps 
Have heard from fome officious bufy-body, 
That they have feen him going to his miftrefs, 
Or coming from her houfe : And what of that. 
So it were done diicreetly, and but feldom ? 
Were it not better that we jOhould difiemble 
Our knowledge of it, than pry into things, 
Which to appear to know wou'd make him hate us ? 
For could he tear her from his heart at cnce. 
To whom he was fo many years attach'd, 
I fliould not think he were a m.an, or likely 
To prove a conflant hufband to my daughter. 

Myrr. No more of Pamphilus, or my offence ; - 
Since you will have it fo! — Go, find him out \ 
Confer with him alone, and fairly afk him, 
Will he, or no, take back Philumena? 
If he avows his inclination to't, 
Reftore her •, but if he rcfufes it, 
Allow, I've ta'en good counfel for my child. 

'Phid, Grant, he fhou'd prove repugnant to the 
match. 

Vol. II. M Grant, 



i6i THE STEP-MOTHER. 

Grant, you perceiv'd this in him, Myrrhina -, 

Was not I prefent ? had not I a right 

To be conlulted in't? — It makes me mad. 

That yoii fhould dare to a6t without my order : 

And I forbid you to remove the Child 

Out of this houfe. — But what a fool am I, 

Enjoining her obedience to my orders ! 

I'll in, and charge the ferv^nts, not to fuffer 

The infant to be carried forth. [Exit-, 



SCENE III. 

MYRRHINA alone. 

No woman more unhappy than myfelf : 

For how he'd bear it, did he know the whole. 

When he has taken Rich offence at this, 

Whicli is of much lefs confequenCe, is plain. 

Nor by what means to reconcile him to it. 

Can I devife. After fo many ills. 

This only mifcry there yet remiSin'd, 

To be oblig'd to educate the child. 

Ignorant of the father's quality. 

p'or he, the cruel fpoiler of lier honour, 

Taking advantage of the night and darknefs, 

My daughter was not able to dilcern 

lib perfon : nor ro force a token frorii him, 

Whereby 



THE STEP-MOTHER. 163; 

Whereby he might be afterwards difcover'd : 
But he, at his departure, pluck'd by force 
A Ring from off her finger. — * I fear too, 
That Pamphilus will not contain himfelf, 
Nor longer keep our fecret, when he finds 
Another's child acknowlcdg'd for his own. [Exit. 

SCENE IV. 
SOSTRATA, PAMPHILUS. 

Soflra. Dear fon, I'm not to learn that you fuppofe^ 
Tho* you difTemble your fufpicions to me, 
That my ill-humour caus'd your wife's departure. 
But by my truft in heaven, and hopes in you, 
I never knowingly did any thing 
To driw heir hatred and difguft upon me. 
I always thought you lov'd me, and to-day 
You have confirm'd my faith : for even now 
Your father has been telling me within. 
Plow much you held me dearer than your love.' 
Now therefore, on my part, I am refolv'd 
To equal you in all good offices ; 
That you may know, your m^other ne'er with-holds 
The juft rev/ards of filial piety. — 

* ^ Ri^g from off her fnger."] This preparation being made 

This is a preparation tor the by a foliloquy, which tells the 

Cataftrophe; for the Ring pro- circumftance diredly to the 

duces the difcovery. Dona- audience, is not To artful as 

T u « . iriigh t be expected fromTerence. 

M 2 Find- 



i64 THE STEP-MOTHER. 

Finding it then both meet, my PamphiluSj 

For your repole, as well as my good name, 

I have detcrmin'd to retire direftly 

From hence into the country with your father i 

So fhall my prelence be no obilacle, 

Nor any caufe remain, but that your wife 

Return immediately. 

Pam. What thoughts are tjiefe ? 
Shall her perverfenefs drive you out of town ? 
It fhall not be : nor will I draw, good mother, 
That cenfure on me, that my obftinacy. 
Not your good-nature, was the caufe.— Befides, 
That you Iliould quit relations, friends, diverfions. 
On my account, I can't allow. 

Sofira. Alas, 
Thofe things have no allurements for me now. 
While I was young, and 'twas the feafon for them, 
I had my fhare, and I am fatisfied. 
'Tis now my chief concern to make my age 
Eafy to all, * that no one may regret 

* That no ofje 7ncy regret my beingodious to her ^amily,isap- 
^»g•/Z'f?^ V ///f , \£c.'\ This idea plied in a very beautiful and un- 
pf the long life of a Step-Mother common manner,byShakefpeare, 
Now, fair Hippolita, our nuptial hour 
Draws on apace ; four happy days bring in 
Another moon: but, oh, methinks how flow 
This old moon wanes ! She lingers my defires. 
Like to a Step-Dame, or aDowpger, 
Long withering out a ycung man's revenue. 

MiJj'uTnmsr Night^s Dream. 

My 



THE STEP-MOTHER. 165 

My lengthen'd life, nor languifh for my death, 
{^ere, altho' undefervedly, I fee* 
My prefence odious : I had bed retire : 
So iliall I bed cut off all difcontent, 
Abfolve myfelf from this unjuft fufpicion. 
And humour Them. Permit me then, to Ihun 
The comiTion fcandal thrown upon the fex ! 

Pam. How fortunate in every thing but one, 
Jlaving fo good a mother, — fuch a wife ! 

Spftra. Patience, myPamphilus! Is't pofTible 
You can't endure ojie inconvenience in her ? 
If in all elfe, as I believe, you like her. 
Dear fon, be rul'd by me, and take her home ! 

Pajn. Wretch that I am ! 

Sofij-a. And I am wretched too : 
For this grieves me, my fon, no lefs than you. 

SCENE V. 

Enter LACHES. 

Lach. I have been Handing at a diflance, v/ife, 
And overheard your converfation with him. 

* Here, althc' undefer'vedly, 1 ufage Hie has received, will mix 

fee, iSc] Though Softrata in- in what fhe fays ; which the 

durtrioufly endeavours to iHfle Poet has purpofcly thrown into 

her refentment, yet, in fpite of her difcourfe, in order to paint 

herfelf, fome iittle indignaticn, the manners, and exprefs cha- 

arifing from a fenfe of the ill racttr. Don at us. 

M 3 You 



i66 THE STEF-MOTHER. 

You have done wifely to fubdue your temper^ 
And freely to comply with what, perhaps. 
Hereafter muft be done. 

Sojira. And let it be I * 

Lacb. Now then retire with me into the country : 
There I fhall bear with You, and You with Me, 

Sqfira. I hope we fhall. 

"Lacb. Go in then, and pack up 
The neceflaries you would carry with you, 
Away ! 

Softra. I fhall obey your orders. [Exit^i 

Pam. Father ! 

Lacb. Well, Pamphilus ? 

Pcrtt. My mother leave the tov/n ? 
By no means. 

Lacb. Why ? 

Pam. Becaufe I'm yet uncertain 
What I fhall do about my wif^. 

Lacb. How'3 that ? 
What would you do, but take her home again ? 

Pcin. 'Tis what I wifh for, and can fcarce forbear. 
But I'll not alter what I firfl defign'd. 

• And let it be !'\ '' Fors fuat mild charafterof Sollrataj and 

fol! Madam Dacicr refines pro- if I might venture to corre»!l a 

digioufly on thefe three words, French tranflation, I would fay 

and fuppofing great difficulty in that Madam Dacier might have 

them, explains them by a very rendered them more properly 

longperiphralis. Donatus feems by the common expreilion oi A 

to confider them as mere words la lonne heure ! 
of aiTent, agreeable to the 

What's 



T H E S T E P-M OTHER. 167 

What's beft I'll follow : and I'm well convincM 
No other means remain to make them friends. 
But that I fhould not take her home again. 

Lach. You don't know that : but 'tis of no 
importance 
Whether they're friends or not, when Softrata 
Is gone into the country. We old folks 
Are odious to the young. We'd beft retire. 
In, IHort we're grown a by-v/ord, Pamphilus, 
" *The old man and old woman." — But I fee 
PJiidippus coming in good time. L,et's meet him ! 



* Ihe old man and old vjomatul 
Odiofa ht£C ejl eetas adolefcentulis. 
E medio aquain excedere eji. Pofi- 
rtmo jam nos fabula fumus, Pam- 
phils, Senex atque Ayus. There 
is nothing, I fuppofe, in thefe 
words, which provokes a fmile. 
Yet the humour is ftrong. In 
his folicitude to promote his 
fon's fatisfaflion, he lets fall a 
fentiment truly characleriftick, 
and which old men ufually take 
great pains to conceal ; I mean 
the acknowledgment of that 
Jufpicious fear of conteTupt, ivhicb 
is natural to old age. So true a 
pidlure of life in the reprefenta- 
tion of this vjeaknejs, might, in 
other circumftances, have creat- 
ed //^^y««/r); ; but the occafon, 
which forced it from him, dif- 
covering, at the fame time, the 
amiaHcdifpoftio}! of the fpeaker, 
eovers the ridicule of it, or 



more properly converts it into 
an objedl of eftem. 

Hurd's DiJJirtaiion on the fe- 
<veral Pro'vinces of the Drama. 

I cannot help thinking that 
the latter part of this ingenious 
remark is rather too refined. 
Jf the charaSIeriJlick humour of 
the pafTage be ftrong, the ridi- 
cule feems rather intended to b« 
heightened by the comick turn 
of expreffion. The complec- 
tlons of men are fo different, 
and the mufcles of fome are fo 
much more eafily relaxed into a 
fmile than tbofe of others, that 
it is difficult to pronounce ex- 
actly in what degree fuch a fober 
piece of plcafantry would a(5> 
upon them. But there are 
many inftances of paflages of 
true humour, which do not im- 
mediately raife a laugh, or even 
provoke a fmile : and i^ is fufJ 
M 4 ficient 



:i6$ 



THE STEP-MOTHER. 



SCENE yi. 

Enter P H I D I P P U S. 



Phid. to Phil, within.'] I'm angry with you — *for^, 
heaven very angry, 
Philumenal — You've a6led fhamefully. 
Though you indeed have fome excufe for't, feeing 
Your rnother urg'd you to'tj but She has none. ^ 
Lach. You're come upon us in good time^ 
Phidippus ; 
Juft in the time we wanted you, 
Phid. What now ? 

Pain. What anfwer fhall I give them ? * how ex- 
plain ? l^ajide. 



ficient if they are conceived in 
the fame vein of pleafantry, 
that runs through the reft of 
the work. The llroke of cha- 
rafter before us feems to me to 
be juft in the fame ftile with 
that which this critick takes 
notice of in the third a(5l, and 
of which he fays, " that it is an 
obfervation drav/n naturally 
and forcibly from Laches ; — 
and this too without ifejrgn ; 
which is important, and Ihews 
the diftinftion of what, in 
the more reftrained fenfe of 
the word, v;e call humcuv 



** from other modes of pleafan- 
" try." 

* Ho^uj explain .■?] ^o faSie 
hoc aperiam ? This is the com- 
mon reading, which Bentley 
and Madam Dacier convert to 
operiam, kwiu Jhnll I hide // F 
I fee no occafion for any alte- 
ration. Pamphilus did not mean 
to divulge the fecret; but in 
his prefent embarrafi'ment he 
might eafily be perplexed how 
to affign plaufible reafons for 
his way of aiding. 



THE STE1P-MOTHER. 169 

Lach. Inform your daughter, Sollrata will hence 
Into the country \ fo Philumena 
Need not dread coming home again. 

Phid. Ah, friend ! 
Your wife has never been in fault at all : 
All this has fprung from my wife Myrrhina. 
The cafe is alter'd. She confounds us, Laches, 

Pam. So that I may not take her home again. 
Confound affairs who will ! {^afide. 

Phid. I, Pamphilus, 
Would fain, if pofTible, mak? this alliance 
Perpetual between our families. 
But if you cannot like it, take the Child.* 

Pam. He knows of her delivery. Confufion ! {^aftds.. 

Lach, The Child! what Child ? 

Phid. We've got a grandfon, Laches. 
For when my daughter left your houfc, flie was 
With child, it feems, altho' I never knew it 
Before this very day. 

Lach. Fore heav'n, good news \ . 
I am rejoic'd to hear a child is born, 
And that your daughter had a fafe delivery. 
But what a woman is your wife, Phidippus ? 
Of what a difpofition ? to conceal 
Such an event as this } I can't exprefs 

'* Take thsChiU-l Accordin ways followed the father, Po- 
tp lawj the Male Children al- natus. 

Ho\v 



J70 THE STEP-MOTHER. 

How very much I think fhe was to blame. 

Phid. This pleales me no more than you, goo^ 
Laches. 

Pam. Altho' my mind was in fufpence before, 
My doubts all vanifh now. I'll ne'er recall her, 
Since fhe brings home with her another's child, \_ajide. 

Lach. There is no room for choice now, Pamphilus, 

Pam. Confufion ! \_nfide. 

Lach. We've oft wilh'd to fee the day. 
When you fhould have a child, to call you father. 
That day's now come. The Gods b^ thank'd ! 

Pam. Undone ! \_afide. 

Lach. Recall your wife, and ,don't oppofe my will: 

Pam. If fhe had wifh'd for children by me, father, 
Or to remain my v/ife, I'm very fure 
She never would have hid this matter from me : 
But now I fee her heart divorc'd from me, 
And think we never can agree hereafter. 
Wherefore fhould I recall her ? 

Lach. A young woman 
Did as her mother had perfuaded her. 
Is that fo wonderful ? and do you think 
To find a woman without any fault ? 
— Or is't becaufe the men are ne'er to biame ? 

{ironically. 

Phid. Confider Avith yourielves then, gentlemen. 
Whether you'll part with her, or call her home. 

What 



THE STEP-MOTHER, 171 

»What my wife does, I cannot help, you know. 

Settle it as you pleafe, you've my confent. 

But for the Child, what lliall be done with him ? 

Lach. A pretty queilion truly ! come what may. 
Send his own bantling home to him of courfe, 
That we may educate him, 

Fam. When his own* 
Father abandons him, I educate hi-m ? 

Lach. What faid you ? how ! not educate him, 
fay you ? 
Shall we expofe him rather, Pamphilus ? 
What madnefs is all this ? — My breath, and blood ! 
I can contain no longer. You oblige me 
To fpeak, againft my will, before Phidippus : 
Think you I'm ignorant whence flow thofe tears ? 
Or why you're thus diforder'd and diftrefs'd ? 
Firft, when you gave as a pretence, ^ou could not 

* When his oivnfaiher ahan- defcriptive of the fituation of 

dom hinif I educate him ?'\ ^em Pamphilus. There is indeed 

ipfe neglexit pater^ ego alam ? an objedlion that may be ofFer- 

Donatus on this pafTage takes ed, from a fuppofition, that this 

notice of a reading, which en. were betraying Philumena. But 

tirely changes the fenfe. !^em weare toimagineitaftart of paf- 

jpfa neglexit^ pater y where we iion, and that Laches, totally 

have ipfa for ipfe, and Pater is ignorant of that fecret, catches 

a vofative. " Shall I, father, at the lad words i?^o a/az^j ? "I 

" take care of a child, whom " educate him ?" which the 

<* the mother herfelf has aban- actor might deliver with greater 

" doned ?" But the other read- energy than the preceding. Pa- 

ing is certainly the beft. Jt is trick. 
full of paffion, and is ftrongly 

Recall 



Vf2 THE STEP-MOTHER. 

Recall your wife in reverence to your mother^ 
She promis'd to retire into the country. 
But now, fince that excufe is taken from yoUj 
YouVe made her private lying-in another. 
You are millaken if you think me blind 
To your intentions. — That you might at laft 
Bring home your llray affedtions to your wife. 
How long a time to wean you from your miftrefsi 
Did I allow ? your wild expence upon her 
How patiently I bore ? I prefs'd, intreated. 
That you would take a wife. 'Twas time, I faid. 
At my repeated inftances you married. 
And, as in duty bound to do, complied : 
But now your heart is gone abroad again 
After your millrefs, whom to gratify. 
You throw this wanton infult on your wife* 
For I can plainly fee you are relaps'd 
Into your former life again. 

Pam. I ? 

Lach. You. 
And 'tis bafe in you, to invent falfe caufes 
Of quarrel with your wife, that you may live 
In quiet with your miftrefs, having put 
This witnefs from you. This your wife percciv'd. 
For was thefe any other living reafon, 
Wherefore Ihe lliould depart from you ? 



Phid. He's right : 



Thatf 



THE STEP-MOTHER. 173 

That was the very thing. 

Pam. I'll take my oath, 
'Twas none of thofe, that you have mention'c^ 

La£h. Ah, 
Recall your wife : or tell me, why you will not, 

Pam. 'Tis not convenient now. 

Lach. Take home the child then. 
For he at leaft is not in fault. I'll fee 
About the mother afterwards. 

Pam. to hmfelf.l Ev'ry way 
I am a wretch, nor know I what to do : 
My father has me in the toils, and I, 
Ey ftruggling to get loofe, am more entangled, 
I'll hence, fmce prefent I fhall profit little. 
For I believe they'll hardly educate 
The child againft my will j efpecially 
Seeing my ftep-mother will fecond me. [Exit, 



SCENE VII. 
Manent PHIDIPPUS, LACHES^ 

Lach. Going ? how's that ? and give rhe no plain 
anfvver ! 
— D'ye think he's in his fenfes ? — Well— fend home 
The child to me, Phidippus. I'll take rare on't. 

Phil 



174 tHE STEP-MOTHER. 

Phid. I will. — I cannot wonder that my wife 
Took this fo ill. Women are pafTionate, 
And can't aw^y with fUch siffronts as thefe. 
This was their quarrel : nay {*at told me fo, 
Though before Him I did not care to fpeak on't 3 
Nor did I credit it at firfl ; but now 
'Tis evident, and I can plainly fee 
He has no ftomach to a wife. 

Lach. Phidippus, 
How Ihall I a6b ? What's your advice ? 

Phid. How afl ? 
I think 'twere bed to feek this wench, his miilrefs. 
Let us expoftulate the matter with her. 
Speak to her roundly, nay, e'en threaten her. 
If (he has aught to do with him hereafter. 

Lach. I'll follow your advice. —EIo, boy ! \_enter a hoy.l 
run over 
To Bacchis. Tell her to come forth to me. 

[_Exit hoy^ 
— I muit befeech you alfo to continue 
Your kind afTiftance to me in this bufinefs. 

Phid. Ah, Laches ! I have told you all along. 
And I repeat it now, tliat 'tis my v/ifli 
To render our alliance firm and lafting, 
If poflible, as I have hopes it will be. 
But would you have me prefent at your con- 
ference 

4 With 



THE STEP-MOTHER. 175 

WrthBacchis?* 

Lach. No ; go, feek the child a nurfe. 

\^Exit Phidippus. 

SCENE VIII. 
Enter B A C C H I S attended by her Women. 

Bacc. to herfelf.'] 'Tis not for nothing Laches wants 
to fee me ^ 
And, or I'm much deceiv'd, I giiefs the caufe. 

Lach. to himfelf.'] I mull take care my anger don't 
tranfport me 
Beyond the bounds of prudence, which may hinder 
My gaining my defign on her, and urge me 
To do what I may afterwards repent. 
rU to her. — \_going up.'] Save you, Bacchis ! 

Bacc. Save you, Laches ! 

Lach. Bacchis, I do net doubt but you're furpriz'd 
That I fhould fend the boy to call you forth. 

Bacc. Ay, and I'm fearful too, when I reflect 
Both who and what I am : left my vocation 

* But n.vould jou hafe me pre- zan, whom he fuppofed to be the 

fcnt^l^cJ] Phidippus utters thefe feducer of Pamphilus from his 

words with an air of difinclina- daughter, although he might 

tion to be prefent at this con- very properly advife fuch a con- 

fer«ice; and the characters are verfation, as conducive to the 

well fuftained in this inftance : peace of both famiiies. Do- 

for it vvould rot become hi.ti to watus. 
difcoarfe coolly with a coui-te* 

Should 



J76 THE STEP-MOTHER. 

Should prejudice me in your good opinion. 
My condud i can fully juftify. 

Lach. Speak but the truth, you're in no dangei^j, 
woman. 
For I'm arriv'd at that age, when a trefpafs 
Would not be eafily forgiven in me : 
Wherefore ! ftudy to proceed with caution. 
And to do nothing rafhly. If you aft, 
And will continue to aft honeftly. 
It were ungenerous to do you wrong ^ 
And feeing you defence it not, unjuft. 

Bacc. Truly, this conduft afks my higheft thanks j 
^or he who does the wrong, and then 2Sks pardon. 
Makes but a forry reparation for it» 
But what's your pleafure ? , 

Loi^h. You receive the vifits 
Of my fon Pamphiliis— — 

Bacc. Ah! 

Lach. Let me fpeak I 
Before he married I endur'd your love. 
—Stay! I've not finilh'd all I have to fay. — ^ 
He is now married. You then, while 'tis time. 
Seek out another, and more conftant friend. 
For he will not be fond of you for ever. 
Nor you, good faith, for ever in your bloom. 

Bacc. Who tells you that I ftill receive the vifits _ 
Of Pamphilus ^ 

r tach. 



THE S T E P-M OTHER. 17; 

Lach. His ftep-mother. 

Bacc. I? 

Lach. Yon. 
And therefore has v/ithdrawn her daughter : therefore 
Meant fecretly to kill the new-born child. 

Bacc. Did I know anything to gain your credit. 
Mere facred than an oath, I'd ufe it, Laches, 
In folemn proteftation to afiurc you, 
That I have had no commerce with your fon. 
Since he was married. * 

Lach. Good girl ! but d'ye know 
What I v/ould farther have you do } 

E-^cc. Inform me. 

Lach. Go to the women here, and offer them 
The fame oath. Satisfy their minds, and clear 
Yourfelf from all reproach in this. 

Bacch. I'll do't. 
Altho' I'm Cure no other of my calling 

* Shtce he ivas married.] Me ftiall we reconcile this folemn 
fcgregatum habi>.i£'i:f itxorem ut proteftation of Bacchis to a paf- 
duxil, a me Pamphih'jn. How fage in the firft a6l ? 

Ph. ^uid interea ! ibatm ad Bacchldenn ? 
Par. Cotidie. 
Phi, But tell me ; 
Went he meanwhile to Bacchis ? 
Far. Every day. 

Are we to fuppofe that this ? or that the Poet, by a 

Bacchis, who behaves fo can- kind of infatuation ftrangely at- 

didly in every other inllance, tending him in this Comedy, 

wantonly perjures herfelf in l^aily contradicts himfelf? 

Vol. IL N Woui4 



lyS THE STEP-MOTHER; 

Would fhew herfelf before a married woman 
Upon the fame occafion. — But it hurts me 
To fee your fon fufpefled on falfe grounds ; 
And that to thofe, who owe him better thoughts. 
His conduct Ihould feem light. For he deferves • 
All my beft offices. 

Lacb. Your converfation has much wrought 
upon me, 
Gain*d my good-will, and aher'd my opinion. 
For not the women only had fuch thoughts. 
But I believ'd it too. Now therefore fince 
I've found you better than my expedation. 
Prove ftill the fame, and make my friendship fure,' 
If otherwife — But I'll contain myfelf. I'll not 
Say any thing fevere.— But I advife you. 
Rather experience what a friend I am. 
Than what an enemy. 

Bacc. I'll do my bell. 



SCENE IX. 

Enter V HID IF F V S and a Nurfe, 

Phid. to the Nurfe.'] Nay, you fliall want for nothing 
at my houfe j 
I'll aive you all that's needful in abundance. 
But when you've eat and drank your fill Yourfelf, 

» Take 



THE S T E P-M OTHER. 179 

Take care to fatisfy the infant too. 

Lach. I fee the father of Philumena 
Coming this way. He brings the child a nurfe. 
— -Phidippus, Bacchis fwears moft folemnly — 

Phid. Is this flic ? 

Lach. Ay. 

Phid. They never mind the Gods, 
Nor do I think the Gods mind them. 

Bacch. Here are 
My waiting-women : take them, and extort 
By any kind of torment the truth from them. 
— Our prefent bufmefs is, I take it, this : 
That I fliouki win the wife of Pamphikis 
To return home ; which fo I but effecft, 
I fha'n't regret the fame of having done 
What others of my calling would avoid.* 

Lach. Phidippus, we've difcover'd that in fa6l 
We both lufpetted our wives wrongfully. 
Let's nov/ try Her : for if your wife perceives 
Her own fufpicions alfa are unjuft. 
She'll drop her anger. If my fon's offended, 

* What ethers of my calling afligns their motives of adion, 

nvouU a'vciii.'] Terence, by his that by him alone every ihin^ 

uncommon art, has attempted feems reconcileable to truth and 

many innovations with great nature; for this is jufl: the op- 

fucccfs. In this comedy he in- pofueofwhat he mentions in 

troduces, contrary to received another place, as the common 

prejudices, agood Step-Mother, privilege of all poets", " to paint 

and an honeft courtezan j but " good matrons, and wicked 

at the fame rime he fo carefully " courtezans." Domatus. 

N 2 Ee;:aufb 



iSo T H E S T E P-M OTHER. 

Becaufe his wife conceal'd her labour from him. 
That's but a trifle-, he'll be foon appeas'd. 
—And truly I fee nothing in the matter. 
That need occafion a divorce. 

Phid. Fore heav'n, 
I wilh that all may end well. 

Lach. Here fhe is : 
Examine her; fhe'Ugive you fatisfa6lion. 

P bid. W'hzt needs all this to Me? You know ;;^y mind 
Already, Laches: do but make Them eafy. 

Lacb. Bacchis, be fure you keep your promife 
with me. 

Bacc. Shall I go in then for that purpofe ? 

Lacb. Ay, 
Go in ; remove their doubts, * and fatisfy them. 

Bacc. I will ; altho' I'm very fure m.y prefence 
"Vyill be unwelcome to them-, for a wife, 
When parted from her huiband, to a miftrefs 
Is a fure enemy. 

Lacb. They'll be your friends. 



* Go in ; rtnio^ce their doubts, 
Jjff.J It is not ur.li:;ely that 
the method of brin^^in^ about 
the difcovery by means of 
Bacchis going into the family, 
gave Sir Richard Steele the hint 
offending Sealand to Indiana's 
lodgings for the fame purpofe. 
When we are profellcdly irr.i- 
tating one part of an author, we 
naturally enough make ufe of 



other palTages in his works ; 
and what inclines me the more 
to this conje6liire,is, that Steele 
m;:kcs cxadtly the fame ufe of 
the Bracelet, that Terence does 
of the Ring, though the pre- 
fence of Ifabella rendered it not 
fo neccilary. Such an incon- 
fiftency might very poflibly pro- 
ceed from imlution. 

Wh«n 



THE STEP-MOTHER. iSi 

When once they know the rcafon of your coming. 

Phid. Ay, ay, they'll be your friends, I promiley-ou, 
When they once learn your errand •, for you'll free 
Them from miftake, Yourfelf from all fufpicion. 

Bacc. I'm cover'd with confufion. I'm afliam'd 
To fee Phiiumena. — [tg her women,] You two attend 
me, [Exeunl Phid. Bacc. ^c. 

LACHES alone.* 

What is there that could pleafe me more than This, 
That Bacchis, without any lofs, Ihould gain 
Favour from Them, and do Me fervic^ too ? 
For if Ihe really has withdrawn herfelf 
From Pamphilus, it will increafe, fhe knows, 
Her reputation, intereft, and honour : 
Since by this generous a6t fhe will at once 
Oblige my fon, and make us all her friends. [Exit. 



* Laches a/ofie."] This folilo- the fable is very artfully in- 

quy feems to be rather idle and creafed, and that the incidents 

unnecefTary : but it is but juf- tending to the cataftrophe are 

tice to obferve of this acl in well contrived and moft nittural*- 

general, that the perplexity of ly introduced. 



N :j ACT 



i82 THE STEP-MOTHER. 

A C T V. SCENE L 

P A R M E N O alone. 

ITalth my mafler holds my labour cheap, 
To fend me to the Citadel for nothing, 
"Where I have waited the whole day in vain 
For his Myconian, Callidemides. 
There was I fitting, gaping like a fool. 
And running up, if any one appear'd, 
— " Are you, Sir, a Myconian?" — " No, not I." — 
— " But your name's Callidemides?" — "Not it." — 
" And have not you a gueft here, of the name 
« Of Pamphilus?"— No— no— All No. 
In fliort, I don't believe there's fuch a man. 
At laft I grew afham'd, and fo fneak'd off. 
— ^rBut is't not Bacchis that I fee come forth 
From our new kinfman ? What can fhe do there ? 



SCENE 



THE STEP-MOTHER. i8^ 

SCENE II. 
Enter B A C C H I S. 

Bacc. Oh Parmeno, I'm glad I met with you. 
Run quick to Pampliilus.* 

Pf.r. On what account ? 

Bacc. Tell him, that I defire he'd come. 

Par. To you ? 

Bacc. No ; to Philumena. 

Par. Why, what's the matter ? 

Bacc. Nothing to You i fo afk no queftions. 

Par. Muft I 
Say nothing elfe ? 

Bacc. Yes ^ tell him too. 
That Myrrhina acknowledges the Ring, 
Which formerly he gave me, as her daughter's. 

Par. I underftand you. But is that all ? 

Bacc. All. 
He'll come the moment that you tell him that. 
What ! do you loiter ? 

Par. No, i'faith, not I, 

* Run quick, lfc.'\ Parmeno to keep him in continual em- 
is drawn as of a lazy and in- ployment and total ignorance, 
quifitive charadler. 'i'erence Dokatus. 
therefore huraourouflycontrives 

N 4 I have 



iS4 THE step-mother; 

I have not had it in my pow'r, I've been 
So bandied ro and fro, fent here and therei 
Trotting, and running up and dovv^n all day. [ExrJ. 

SCENE III. 

B A C C H I S alone* 

What joy have I procurM to Pamphilus 

By coming here to-day! what blelTings brought him! 

And from how many forrows refcued him ! 

His fon, by his and their means nearly loll, 

I fav'd •, a v/ife, he meant to put away, 

I have reflor'd; and from the ftrong fufpicions 

Of Laches andPhidippus fet him free. 

—Of all thefe things the Ring has been the caufe. 

For I remember, near ten months ago, 

That he came running home to me one evening, 

Breathlefs, alone, and much inflam'd with wine. 

Bringing; this Rins;. I was alarmi'd at it. 

" Priihee, my deareft Pamphilus, faid 1,-f- 

-' AVhence comes all this confufion .^^ whence this 

" Ring ? 
''- Tell me, my love." — He put me off at firft : 

* Bactbis altwr.j The reft of f Prithee, my deartjl Paniphi- 
the argimient is told in folilo- lus, bV. ] Terence ftudies bre- 
quy. DoNATus. vity: for in the Greek thefe 

go much the vvorfe, 'J;''"^' "^^ ""^^^^ ""^ '^"^^ 

Don AT us. 

This 



THE STEP-MOTHER. 1S5 

Perceiving this, it made me apprehend 
Something of ferious import, and I iirg'd lilm 
More earneftlv to tell me. — He confefs'd. 
That, as he came along, he had committed 
A rape upon a virgin — 'whom he knew not— 
And, as fhe ftriiggled, forc'd from her that Ring : 
Which Myrrhina now feeing on my finger. 
Immediately acknowledg'd, and enquired. 
How 1 came by it. I told all this ftory : * 



This IS {o curious a piece of 
information, communicated by 
Donatus, that I am furprifed 
that no former editors or tranf- 
lators have taken notice of it. 
If it means, that in the Greek 
the circumftances of the cata- 
ftrophe were thrown into aftion, 
Terence may indeed have fludied 
brevity, but he has not much 
confulted the entertainment of 
his audience. And that this is 
the meaning of this paffage in 
Bonatus, I think is plain : for 
the converfation, of which 
Bacchis here fpeaks, mult have 
taken place before the opening 
of the play ; fo that it can hard- 
ly be fuppofed to have been in- 
troduced as a fcene in the ori- 
ginal Greek : belides, the note 
of Donatus immediately preced- 
ing feems to confirm this inter- 
pretation, as well as what he 
fays foon after, conclufit narra- 
tionem fabulee, more J'uo : ne heec 
in fy.iriro aiiuexpedaremus, "He 



" has here concluded the ftory 

•' of the fable, after his ufua! 

" manner : that we may not 

" expedl thefe things to ccnie 

" out in a future adl." 

* liDldaUthisJlcry: Whence 
"'I'-was difco-vird^ fifr.] It is not 
fjfRcient, oh thou writer of 
Comedy, to have faid in your 
plan, '* I will introduce a 
" young man but weakly at- 
" tached to a courtezan ; he 
" fhall quit her ; fnall marry, 
" and be fond of his wife ; the 
" wife fhall be amiable, and 
*' her huiband promife himfelf 
" a happy life with her : More- 
" over, he (hail lie by her for 
" two months without touch- 
" ing her, and yet fhe Ihall 
" prove with child. I mull 
" have a good Step Mother, 
*' anda Courtezan of rentiment. 
" I cannot do without a rape ; 
" and I will foppofe it to be 
*' committed in the '^^tcx. by a 
" young 



iS6 T H E S T E P-M OTHER. 

"Whence 'twas difcover'd, that Philumena 
Was fhe who had been ravifli'd, and the child 
Conceiv'd from that encounter. — That I've been 



** young man drunk." — Very 
well : Courage ! Go on ; huddle 
llrange circumilances one upon 
another ; with all my heart. 
Your fable will be wonderful, I 
allow. But do not forget, that 
you muft redeem all this mar- 
<vellou5 in your plot by a multi- 
tude of common incidents that 
atone for it, and give it an air of 
probability. Diderot. 

Theabove extract fromMonf. 
Diderot's ElTay on Dramatick 
Poetry is a very elegant compli- 
ment to the genius of our poet, 
and the art difplayed in the 
play before us. The outline 
of the fable is undoubtedly 
beautiful ; but on the whole, I 
cannot think that outline fo well 
filled as might be expe£led from 
the mafter-hand cf Terence. 
There are many circumftances 
happily contrived to create an 
agreeable perplexity ; but in 
other parts of the piece there 
prevails an uncommon coldnefs 
and want of fpirit. The fame 
ingenious French Critick has a 
very fine pafTage in the Eflay 
abovementioned. "Although," 
lays he, " the quicknefs of the 
*' movement varies according 
«' to the different fpecics of the 
*♦ Drama, yet the ai^lion al- 
" ways proceeds. It docs not 



*' flop even between the acls. 
" 'Tis a mafs loofened from 
" the top of a rock : its velo- 
" city increafes in proportion 
" to its defcent; and it bounds 
** from place to place, accord- 
*' ing to the obftacles which it 

" meets with in its way." • 

According to this comparifon, 
which Is, I think, as juft as it 
is beautiful, what fhall we fay 
to the firfl aft of this Comedy? 
Inftead of a mafs falling from a 
rock, it feems an unwieldy 
mafs, which can with difficulty 
be heaved from the ground : or 
to change the allufion, the Poet 
treats his fable, as the Savoy- 
ards do a clock-work figure, 
which they are obliged to wind 
up, before theycanfet it in moti- 
on.— And then, of what does 
the laft ad confift ? All the ma- 
terials, which fhould compofe 
it, are exhaufted in the interval 
fuppofed to pafs between that 
ad: and the fourth ; a fault, 
which dramatick writers, of 
inferior genius to Terence, are 
very apt to fall into. But fure- 
ly there cannot be an error more 
fatal to the cataftrophe of a , 
piece ; nor any fault more fa- 
tal to the piece than an inani- 
mate cataftrophe : *' for if," 
as continues Monf. Diderot, 
" the 



THE STEP-MOTHER. 187 

The inftrument of all thefe joys I'm glad, 

Tho' other courtezans would not be lb ; 

Nor is it for our profit and advantage, 

That lovers fhould be happy in their marriage. 

But never will I, for my calling-fake, 

Suffer ingratitude to taint my mind. 

I found him, while occafion gave him leave. 

Kind, pleafant, and good-humour'd: and this marriage 

Happen'd unluckily, I muft confefs. 

Yet I did nothing to eftrange his heart ; 

And fince I have receiv'd much kindnefs from him, 

'Tis fit I fhou'd endure this one afflidion. 



SCENE IV, 

Enter at a diftance PAMPHILUS and P ARMENO. 

Par. Be fure you prove this to me, Parm.eno j 
Prithee, be fure on't. Do not bubble me • 
With falfe and fhort-liv'd joy. 

Par. 'Tis even fo. ^ 

Pa-m. For certain ? 

Par. Ay, for certain. 

" the above comparifon be juft ; " logue than incident in the 

*' if it be true that there will " former acts, and more inci- 

*« be fo much lefs of difcourfe *' dent than dialogue in the 

*' as there is more of adlion, *' latter." 
*' there ought to be more dia- 

Pam* 



i8S THE STEP-MOTHER. 

Pam. Fm in heaven, 
if this be fo. 

Par. You'll Hnd it very true. 

Pam, Hold, I befeech you ! I'm afraid, I think 
One thing, while you relate another. 

Par. Well ? 

« 

Pam. Youfaid, I think, " thatMyrrhina difcQver*d 
f ' The Ring on Bacchis' finger, was her own." 

Par. She did, 

Pa?n. " The fame I gave her formei-ly. 
"^ —And Bacchis bad you run and tell m,e this.'* 
Is it not ^0 ^. 

Par. I tell you, Sir, it is. 

Pa4n. Who is more fortunate, more blcfl than I .'' 
— Whatfhall I give you for thefe news.? what? what? 
I don't know. 

Par, But I know. 

Pam. What ? 

Par. Juft nothing. 
For I fee nothing of advantage to you, 
Or in the mefllige, or myfelf. 

Pam. Shall I 
Permit you to go unrewarded ; you. 
Who have rellor'd me ev'n from death to life ? 
Ah, Parmeno, d'ye think me fo ungrateful .? 
—-But yonder's Bacchis Handing at the door. 
She waits for mp, I fancy. I'll go to her. 

Bacc. 



THE STEP-MOTHER. i2^ 

Bacc. feeing him.'] Pamphilus, fave you ! 

Pam. Bacchis ! my dear Bacchis ! 
My guardian, my protedrefs ! 

Bacc. All is well : 
And I'm o'erjoy'd at it. 

Pam. Your anions fpeak it. 
You're (till the charming girl I ever found you. 
Your prefence, company, and converfation. 
Come where you will, bring joy and pleafure with 
them. 

Baccb. And you. In faith, are flill the fame as ever. 
The fweeteft, moft engaging man on earth. 

Pam. Ha! ha! ha! that fpeech from you, dear 
Bacchis ? 

Bacc. You lov'd your wife with reafon, Pamphilus : 
Never, that I remember, did I fee her 
Before to-day -, and fne's a charming v/oman, 

Pam, Speak truth ! 

Bacc. So heaven help me, Pamphilus I 

Pam. Say, have you told my father any part 
Of this tale ? 

Bacc, Not a v/ord. 

Pam. Nor is there need. 
Let all be hulh ! I would not have it here. 
As in a Comedy,* where every thing 

* Js in a Comedy.^^ Terence peculiar to his play. In other 
Lere wiih reafon endeavours to Comedies, every body, A6lors 
n>;ike them,oft of acircumftance as weJl as Spectators, are at 

lait 



190 THE STEP-MOTHER. 

Is known to every body. Here, thofe perfons 
Whom it concerns, already know it •, They, 
Who 'twere not meet Iliould know it, never iliall. 

Bncc. I promile you, it may with eafe be hid. 
Myrrhina told Phidippus, that my oath 
Convinc'd her, and fhe held you clear. 

Pam. Good ! good ! 
Ail will be well, and all, I hope, end well. 

Par. May I know, Sir, what good Fve done to- 
day ? 
And what's the meaning of your converfation ? 

Pam. No. 

Par. I fufpecl however. — " I rellore him 
" From death to life .^" — which way ? — 

Par. Oh, Parmeno, 
You can't conceive the good you've done to-day. 
From what diftrefs you have deliver'd me. 

Par. Ay, but I know, and did it with defign. 

Par/i. Oh, Fm convinc'd of that. [ironically. 

lafl equally acquainted with the the principal incident of the 
whole Intrigue andCataftrophe; Plot, arefo plaufible and natu- 
and it woufd even be a defeft ral, that he could not have fol- 
ia the plot, were there any ob- ^o^ed the beaten track without 
fcurity remaining. But Te- offending againft manners and 
rence, li4<e a true Genius, raakes decency. This bold and un- 
himfclf fuperior to Rules, and common turn is one of the chief 
adds new beauties to his piece graces of the Play. Dacier. 
by forfaldng them. His rea- See the notes to the third iid 
ions for concealing from part of this Comedy, 
of the perfonagcs of the Drama 

Par. 



THE STEP-MOTHER. 

Par. Did Parmeno 
Ever let flip an opportunity 
Of doing what he ought, Sir? 

Paj7t. Parmeno, 
In after me ! 

Pi^r. I follow. — By my troth, 
I've done more g-ood to-day without defio-n. 
Than ever with defign in all my life. — 
Clap your hands ! 



191 



* Clap your hands /J Terence 
had recourfe to the expedient 
e{ double plots . And this, I fup- 
pofe, is what gained him the 
reputation of being the moft ar- 
tificial writer for the Stage. The 
Hecyra [The Step-Mother] is 
the only one of his Comedies, 
of the true antient caft. And 
we know how it came oft in the 
reprefentation. TJiat iil fuc- 
cefs and the fimplicity of its 
conduct have continued to draw 
upon it the fame unfavourable 
treatment from the criticks, to 
this day ; who confiantly fpeak 
of it, as much inferior to the 
reft ; v/hereas, for the genuine 
beauty of dramatick defign and 
the obfervance, after the anti- 
ent Greek manner, of the nice 
dependency and coherence of 
t\\t fable, throughout, it is, in- 
difputably, to every reader of 
true tafte, the moft maflerly 



and cx'quifitc of the whole coi- 
Jeflion. 

Kurd's Notes on the Epifk id 
yhigii flits. 

Though I would not attempt 
to juftify the town-criticks of 
the days of Terence, who paf- 
fed a fentencc of abfolute con- 
demnation on this Comedy, vet 
I cannot think that it failed 
merely for want of duplicity of 
intrigue ; nor that the criticks 
of Horace's time efteemed Te- 
rence the moft artificial writer 
for the ftage, only becaufe he 
combined two ftories into one. 
May we not, at this day, fpeak 
of the unconnnon art of Terence 
in the preparation of his inci- 
dents, and conducl of his fable, 
without being fuppofed to im- 
ply a particular commendation 
of his double plots? and may we 
not allow the beauty of defign 
in writing on a ftngh plot, and 

yet 



192 



THE STEP-MOTHER. 



yet at the fame time difcover fo 
many capital defeds in the con- 
dticl of a particular piece, ai 
Inay reduce it to a much lowef- 
ilandard of merit than that of 
other Comedies conftrudled on 
a lefs CQrreft model ? Tcus les 
gmrzsy fays Voltaire, font bc?ts; 
hers le genre ennziyczix. For my 
part, I had much rather fee or 
read the Comedy of the Pro- 
voked Huiband, which fo fla- 
grantly tranfgreiies the unity of 
edion,that it is almoil two plays 
in one, than the cold produc- 
tion of any affedled lover of 
fimplicity, who, on the fo!e 
merit of zjtngle ploty tells a dull 
Jlory in a dull manner, without 
any intereilof incident, ftrength 
of charafler, or vivacity of dia- 
logue. It is not the infertion 
of an Epifode that will enliven 
the fable ; but the jufl deline- 
ation of characler and proper 
cond«<5l of the plot, liinple or 
complicated, that gives it fpi- 
rit. Voltaire juftly obferves, 
in his letters on our nation, 
that the Love- Epifode in Addi- 
fon's Cato throws a languor on 
the whole piece. The Theatre 
affords a conftant evidence of 
the fame fa£l in Tate's altera- 
tion of King Lear ; and, to in- 
ftance rather in Comedy, the 
.Andrian of our Author would 
be much better without the 
{lory of Charinus.' Interefting 
incidents, however, there mufl 
be ; or infipidity will enfue, 
jinlcfs the attention bu diverted 
4 



from examining theplot, by tluf- 
foonery ; which is as vicious in 
the manners of Comedv, as 
Pantomime changes in the fable, 
Terence, " whofe tafle was 
*' abhorrent from ribaldrv,'' 
has, I think, in this play,Tuf- 
fered the interefi of his piece to 
ianguifh ; and if there be any 
juft obfervation in the prece- 
ding notes, there is a lamenefs, 
notwithrtanding the linipiicity, 
in the conduct of the fable, The 
fiifi: aft, being entirely con- 
fiimrd in narration, is very inar- 
tificial, and what is llill worfe, 
redundant ; the difcovery of the 
main incident is made in the 
mofl; uninterefting manner, by 
a long foliloquy in the third 
ad ; and the cataftrophe itfelf is 
managed in ^he fame cold man- 
ner, by another long foliloquy; 
the incidents, that ihould have 
filled the fifth ad, being injudi- 
ciouHy precluded by what is. 
fuppofed to pafs in the prece- 
ding interval. — In point of cha- 
racter alfo. The Step- Mother 
has much lefs merit than the 
relt of our author's pieces. La- 
ches and Phidippus are far in- 
ferior to Simo, Menedemus, 
Chremes, Micio, Demea, Ijyc. 
nor is Pamphilus equal to the 
Pamphilus in the Andrian, or 
Ph:£d!ia, or .(9Lfchinus, l5c.~- 
This play has by fome Criticks 
been coupled with the Self-Tor- 
mentor for purity of Aile and 
beauty of fentiment. It is not 
void of thofe graces, no more 
than 



THE STEP-MOTHER. 



^93 



"than it is wholly deftitute of art 
in the conftruftion of the plot ; 
but furely it poflcfTes them in a 
much lefs eminent degree than 
the Self-Tormentor. Can the 
narration of Parmeno, not to 
dwell on its being needlefs, be 
compared with that of Menede- 
mus ? or with that of Simo in 
the Andrian ; or that of Geta 
in Phormio ? — I have endea- 
voured to omit no opportu- 
nity of taking notice of the 
beautiful paffages of this play ; 
and I have indeed been more 
than ordinarily afliduous to point 
them out, in order to fliew,that 
in the raoft indifferent produc- 
tions of a great author, there are 
many things worthy our atten- 
tion and imitation. On the 
whole, however, I am forry to 
be obliged to differ once more 
from the learned and ingenious 
Critick abovc'cited ; And I 



cannot help thinking it rather 
fingular,thathe,who everywhere 
maintains that charaSer is the 
chief objeft of Comedy, fhould 
yet feem to draw conclufions di- 
redlly oppofite tothefepremifes, 
and not only prefer Terence 
(whofe artificial fables rendered 
him popular) to all other Co- 
mick Dramatifts, but alfo rank 
the Step-Mother, merely on ac- 
count of " the nice dependency 
" and coherence oi ikt fable,''* 
higher in merit than any other 
of his pieces, confeffedly more 
rich in charafler. I muft own 
that, fo far from being able to 
acquiefce in the opinion, that 
*• it is indifputably, to every 
'« reader of true taiie, the moft 
*• mafterly and exquifite of the 
*' whole colleftion," I am, in 
this inllance, much rather in- 
clined to fay with Volcatius, 



Sumetur Hecyra fexta ex lis fabula, 
•* The lafl, and lead in merit of the fix.' 



Monf. Diderot, fo often men- 
tioned in thefe notes, has given 
us two excellent Serious Co- 
medies, Le Fils Naturel, and 
Le Fere de Famille : in the con- 
duift of the firil, if I am not de- 
ceived, he feems to have kept 
his eye on the Step Mother, 



and in the fecond on The Bro- 
thers ; though I cannot but la- 
ment his having difgraced the 
firftof thofe pieces with reflexi- 
ons, as unjufl as illiberal, on the 
inhumanity of the Englifh na- 
tion towards their prlfoners of 
war. 



Vol. II. 



O 



PHOR- 



<ff't'*f^***4'**4'*4'f4'f4"H'**«H^4^l'****'J^******'***4'*^ 



P H O R M I O, 



*f*$-* ^'-j'^^rt'^^^f-^^^' t ' f ' f ' f 'i'^ |>-^-f"J^<J»<f ^■f' f ^^^■*<f^ f-^4*^'l'^*f ^f^i'^* 



O 2 



T O 



DAVID GAR RICK, E% 



THE FOLLOWING COMEDY, 



TRANSLATED FROM TERENCE, 



IS INSCRIBED, 



BY HIS MOST FAITHFUL 



AND AFFECTIONAT 



HUMBLE SERVANT, 



GEORGE COLMAN. 
O 3 
















Plxomno 



P H O R M I O. 

Adled at the Roman Sports, * 

L. Poftumius Albinus, and L. Cornelius Mcrula, 
Curule u^diles: Principal Aftors, L. Ambivius 
Turpio and L. Attilius Pra^neftinus : The Mufick, 
compofed for Unequal Flutes, by Flaccus, Freed- 
man to Claudius: Taken entirely from the Epidi- 
cazomenos of Apoliodorus : -f A(5ted four times, C. 
Fannius, and M. Valerius, Confuls. J 



* Ailed at the Roman Spcrts-I 
Donatus fays " At the Mega- 
lefian Games :" but he is cer- 
tainly wrong. For this Comedy 
was played after the Eunuch 
had been brought on the ftage, 
though in the very fame year ; 
it could not confequently be at 
the fame feftival on which the 
Eunuch was played, but fome 
fucceeding one. The Megale- 
fian Games happened in April, 
and the Roman Sports in the 
month of September. Dacier. 

t ASled four times.'] Facta 
Qj^iARTO. The words quarto 
and quartum have afforded mat- 
ter of much difpute. When 
Pompey was juft about to con- 
fecrate the Temple of Viftory, 
a difficulty arofe how he fhould 



exprefs his third Confulfhip ; 
whether it ought to be Con/ul 
tcrtto, or Conful tertium ? The 
learned men of Rome were di- 
vided in their opinions about it, 
and even Cicero left the quef- 
tion undecided ; for in order 
to fatisfy all parties, he direc- 
ted it fhould be thus abbrevi- 
ated, Conful tert. FaSia quarto 
here can mean nothing elfe but 
that the Phormio was afted four 
times in one year, to diftinguifh 
its merit; and not, as Donatus 
interprets, that it was Te- 
rence's fourth play in order of 
compoiition. Dacier. 

X C. TaTiniuSfand M. Valerius, 
Co>!juls.] That is, in the year 
of Rome 592, and 159 years be- 
fore Chrift. 
O4 



PERSONS. 

PROLOGUE, 

D E M I P H O, 

C H R E M E S, 

A N T I P H O, 

P H ^ D R I A, 

CRATINUS, 

C R I T O, 

H E G I O, 

P H O R M I O, 

D O R I O, 

G E T A, 

D A V U S, and other ServantSt 



NAUSI STRATA, 
SOPHRONA, 



SCENE, Athens, 



PROLOGUE. 



TH E Old Bard* finding It impofTible 
To draw our Poet from the love of verfcj, 
And bury him in indolence, attempts 
By calumny to fcare him from the ftage ; 
Pretending, that in all his former plays 
The chara6ters are low, and mean the ftile;-j- 



* The old Bar J."] Lufdus La- 
vlnius, the fame poet mentioned 
in former prologues. 

•f- The charaSlcrs are lon>j, and 
mean the Jlile.'\ Tenui ejje orati' 
one., y fcripturd lemi. The 
Poet here fhews the want of 
judgement in the cenfures of 
the Critick, who objeds to him 
as a fault, what ought to be the 
chief excellence of comick ftile. 
It is true indeed that Terence 
was in this inftance held infe- 
rior to Menander ; and con- 
demned for ufing lefs fublime 
language than his original : 
from which cenfure he here en- 
deavours to vindicate himfclf 
hy faying, that fuch a raifed 
ftile rather belonged to the pro- 
vince of Tragedy. DONATUS. 

The opinion of Donatus on 
this pafTage is pretty clear from 
the above note : yet this line 
has created much difpute among 
commentators. The learned 



author of the Notes on the Art 
of Poetry almoft direflly con- 
tradi(n;s Donatus, and fays, 
" The fenfe of this paflage is 
*' not, as commentators have 
" idly thought, that his Jijle 
" nvas lo<vj and trifiing, for this 
" could never be pretended, 
" but that his dialogue ntoas tn- 
" jipid, and his charaSlers, and 
" in general his 'whole cotnpoJt~ 
** tion, WITHOUT THAT CO- 
" MICK HEIGHTENING, W/^zVy^ 
** their ^vitiated tajies required,'''' 
Whoever confults the whole 
context, I think, muft accede 
to the interpretation of Dona- 
tus, rather than that of the An- 
notator upon Horace. The ob- 
jeftion of Lavinius to the plays 
of Terence was not, that they 
nvere njoithout that comick heigh- 
tening, l5'c. but, that the Foet 
did not afpire to the Tragick 
Sublime. The next line puts 
it beyond doubt ; Becaiife he 
nier de/cribedf l^c. All which 
circum* 



202 P R L O G U E, 

Becaufe he ne'er defcrib'd a mad-brain'd youth,* 
Who in his fits of phrenzy thought he faw 
A Hind, the dogs in full cry after her i 
Her too imploring and befeeching him 
To give her aid.— But did he underftand. 
That when the piece was firft produced, it ow'd. 
More to the A6tor, than himfelf, its fafety. 
He would not be thus bold to give offence. 
—But if there's any one that fays, or thinks, 
«* That had not the Old Bard aifail'd him firfl. 



circumftances, fays Donatus, are 
tragical, and would be vicious 
an Comedy. 

Nen it a dijp.tntli funt argument Oy fed tamen 
Vijimili cratione funt faSicSy ac Jl'tlo. 



In a note to the prologue t« 
the Andrian on the lines 



Donatus gives this explana- 
tion. Orationem in fententiis 
dicunt ejfe, ftilum in 'verbis^ ar- 
gumentum in rebus. — " Oratio 
\* refers to the fentiments, Jiilus 



" to the diftion, and argumen- 
** turn to the plot." Agree- 
able to this interpretation I 
rendered that paflage 



— — In argument 

Lefs different, than in fentiraent, and ftlle. 



But here the inftance imme- 
diately fubjoined feeming to 
point out the word Oratione as 
referring to Charafter, as Scrip' 
tura relates to the language, I 
have tranflated the verfe accord- 
gbg to that idea. 

* A 77iad-brain^d youth. ^ This 
verfe illuftrates the foregoing ; 
for here the Poet gives us a fpe- 
cjmen of his rival's genius and 



tafte. He was fond of Intro- 
ducing charaders extravagant, 
unnatural, and overftrained : 
hence the language muft be of a 
piece, impetuous, turbulent, full 
of rant and affedtation. No 
wonder, therefore,if he could not 
relilh the compofitions of our 
poet, whofe charadtersare drawa 
from nature, and the language 
fuitably artlefs and fimple. Pa- 
trick. 

" Our 



PROLOGUE. 203 

" Our Poet could not have devis'd a Prologue, 
*' Having no matter for abufc •," — let luch 
Receive for anfwer, *' that altho' the prize 
*' To all advent'rers is held out in common, 
" The Veteran Poet meant to drive our Bard 
•* From ftudy into want : He therefore chofe 
" To anfwer, though he would not firfl offend, 
" And had his adverfary but have prov'd 
" A generous rival, he had had due praife. • 
" Let him then bear thefe cenfures, and refiedl, 
" Of his own flanders 'tis the due return ! 
" But henceforth I Ihall ceafe to fpeak of him, 
" Altho' he ceafes not himfelf to rail." 

But now what Fd requeft of you, attend I 
To-day I bring a new Play, which the Greeks 
Call Epidicazomenos; * the Latins, 
From the chief character, name Phormio ; 
Phormio, whom you will find a Parafite, 
And the chief engine of the plot. — And now. 
If to our Poet you are well inclin'd, 
Give ear i be favourable ; andbefilent! 
Let us not meet the fame ill fortune now,-|- 

* Epidicazomenos.'] A Greek f The fame ill fortune nonv^ 

word [E7r/5/K«(:ofA;i/3;] fignifying y,..] Alluding, as is in gene- 

a perfon who demands jullice .^i f^ppofed, to the diilurb- 

of another ; meaning Phormio, , r n 

, . , r>i • -n- • 1 T ances on the nril attempts 

who IS the rlaintm in the Law- "^ 

fuit, which is the ground of the ^° represent the Step-Mother. 
intrigue in this pleafant comedy. 

That 



204 PROLOGUE, 

That we before encountered, when our troop 
Was by a twmuk driven from their place j 
To which the Ador's merit, feconded 
Bj your good-will and candour, has rellor'd us. 



F H O R- 



P H O R M I O, 

ACT I. SCENE!, 

D A V U S alcne. * 



GE T A, my worthy friend and countryman,f- 
Came to me yefterday : For fome time pafl 
I've oVd him fome fmall balance of account : 
This, he defir'd, I wou'd make up: I have; 



* BanjUi alone.'] Terence 
here follows the fame method, 
that he perfues in fome other 
of his Comedies, of introducing 
a Protatick Perfonage, that is 
a charafter foreign to the fable ; 
that, while the ftory is opened 
to him, the audience may be in- 
formed of as much as is necef- 
fary for them to know. But al- 
though this fcene is introduced 
merely for the inftruftion of the 
fpeftator, yet the Poet has con- 
trived to feafon it with a great 
deal of wit and humour j and 
Indeed that is the higheft pitch 
of dramatick art, to feem to in- 
tend nothing but the amufement 
of the Spedator, and to follow 
the natural courfe of the plot, 
while you are adually endea- 



vouring to prepare them for tie 
incidents that are to follow, 
Don AT us. 

I have already more than 
once delivered my opinion con- 
cerning the Protatick Perfonage, 
The fcene before us is indeed 
moit exquifitely beautiful, and 
fo admirable a model of Narra- 
tion, that it gives one pain to 
make the flighteft objedtion to 
it. But I cannot help thinking 
that theTrinummus of Plautus, 
a comedy which has fome fimi- 
larlty to this of our author, is 
opened with more art and viva- 
city. Davus is rather idly in- 
troduced, brings money to no 
end, and hears the (lory to no 
purpofe. In the Andrian, Simo 
has fome fort of excufe for opeu- 



±q6 



P H O R M I O. 



And brought it with me: For his mafter's fon, 
I am inform'd, has lately got a wife : 
So I fuppofe this fum is fcrap'd together 
For a Bride-Gift. Alack, how hard it is. 
That he, who is already poor, fhould ftill 
Throw in his mite, to fwell the rich man's heap f 
J What He fcarce, ounce by ounce, from fhort al- 
lowance, If 
Sorely defrauding his own appetite. 



ing the myftery of his condu6b 
to Sofia, as he belongs to the 
family, and it was propofed to 
make ufe of his afliftance. But 
Davus has fo very little relation 
to the parties concerned, that 
we do not know whofe fervant 
he is; nor does he take any part 
in the fuceeeding events. In the 
Trinummus, on the contrary, 
an old gentleman, who thinks 
the condudl of his friend re- 
prehenfible, comes to chide him 
for his behaviour ; and the per- 
fon accufed, in his own vindi- 
cation, explains himfelf at once 
to his angry monitor and to the 
fpedators. This charafter alfo 
is not merely introduced as a 
Protatick Perfonage, but ads 
afterwards in concert with his 
friend. 

•f- Geta, my ^worthy friend, and 
ceiintrymaji.^ Amicus fiimmus 7neus 
iff popularis Geta. Popularis 
properly fignifies one of the 



fame town; and though not 
born in it, a perfon who has 
been regiftered with the inhabi- 
tants. The very names Davus 
and Geta plainly prove they 
could not be countrymen in the 
flricl fenfe and meaning of that 
word. Dacier. 

X What he fair ce, ounce hy ounce y 
l£cJ\ ^od tile unciatim, ^c. 
Thefe verfes are extremely fine 
and elaborate, and make an ex- 
aft climax, almoft every word, 
as Donatus has obferved, hav- 
ing a confiderable emphafis and 
energy ; the touches are Ihong, 
forcible, and natural.— —The 
images of poverty and diftrefs 
are greatly heightened by the 
contrail which immediately fol- 
lows. Dacjer. 

II Fro7!i fjort allo'Wance.'\ E 

demenfo fuo. Demenfum was a 

meafure of corn containing, as is 

commonly fuppofed, four bufhels 

which 



P H O R M I O. 



207 



Has fpar'd, poor wretch ! fliall She fweep all at once. 
Unheeding with what labour it was got. 
Geta, moreover, fhall be ftruck for more ; * 
Another gift, when Madam's brought to bed; — 
Another too, when Mailer's Birth-day's kept. 
And they initiate him. f™ All this Mamma 
Shall carry off, the Bantling her excufe. 
But is that Geta ? 

SCENE IL 
Enter GETA. 

Get. at entering.l If a red-hair'd man 
Enquire for me 

Bav. No more ! he's here. 

Get, Oh, Davus ! 
The very man that I was^ going after. 

Dav. Here, take this ! {^gives a purfe.l 'tis ail told : 
you'll find it right j 
The fum I ov/d you. 



which was delivered out to the 
flaves monthly, as their allow- 
ance. DONATUS. 

* Shall be ST KVCK for more.'] 
Ferietur alio munere. Here 
the familiar Latin phrafe ex- 
aftly anfvvers to the Englifh 
one. 



f And they initiate him.'] Al- 
luding to the cuftom of initiati- 
on among the anlients, of which 
there were feveral kinds. Ma- 
dam Dacier fuppofes it to fignify 
their being initiated inthegrand 
myfteries of Ceres, which was 
commonly done, while they were 
yet very young. Patrick. 

Get. 



3o5 P H O R M I O. 

Get. Honeft, worthy Davus f 
I thank you for your punctuality. 

Dav. And well you may, as men and times go now i 
Things, by my troth, are come to fuch a pafs. 
If a man pays you what he owes, you're much 
Beholden to him. — But, pray, why fo fad ? 

Get. I ?— You can fcarce imagine in what dread. 
What danger I am in, 

Dav. How fo ? 

Get. ril tell you. 
So you will keep it fecret. 

Dav. Away, fool ! 
The man, whofe faith in money you have tried. 
D'ye fear to trull with words ? — And to what end 
Shou'd 1 deceive you ? 

Get. Lift then ! 

Dav. I'm ail ear. 

Get. D'ye know^- our old man*s elder brother, 
Chremes ? 

Dav. Know him ? ay fure. 

Get. You do ? — And his fon Phsedria ? 

Dav. As well as I know you. 

Get. It fo fell out. 

Both the old men were forc'd to journey forth 

At the fame feafon. He to Lemnos, our's 

Into Cilicia, to an old acquaintance 

"Who had decoy'd the old curmudgeon thither 

By wheedling letters, almoft promifmg 

Moun- 



P H O R M I O. 20Q 

Mountains of gold. 

Dav. To one that had fo much. 
More than enough already ? 

Get. Prithee, peace ! 
Money's his palTion, 

Dav. Oh, would I had been 
A man of fortune, I ! 

Get. At their departure. 
The two old gentlemen appointed me 
A kind of governor to both their fons. 

Dav. A hard tafk, Geta ! 

Get. Troth, I found it fo. 
My angry Genius for my fms ordain'd it.* 
At firft I took upon me to oppofe : 
In fhort, while I was trufiy to th' old man. 
The young one made my flioulders anfwer for it. 

Dav. So I fuppofe : for what a foolifh tafk 
To kick againft the pricks! -f 

Get. I then refolv'd 
To give them their own way in ev'ry thing. 

* Mj angry Genius for my Jlns \ 7e kic\ aga'inji the prich.'] 

ordain il it. '] The Antients had Adverfum Jiifnulum calces. To 

a perfuafion, that each man had kick againft the pricks. — Ori- 

a Genius or Guardian Deity, ginally an old Greek proverb, 

and that when he fell into any npo$ ra. y.ei.pa. f^xKrtXeiV'—vpog 

misfortune, or was guilty of ne-jrpcc xwaov enrsvetv.- -So our 

any crime, it was becaufe his Saviour (Afts, chap. ix. v. 5.) 

Genius had abandoned him. it is hard for thee to kick ogainjl 

Patrick. the pricks. V/esi erhovius. 

Vol. II. P Dav. 



2IO 



P H O R M i d. 



Dav. Ay, then you made your market. * 

Get. Our young Ipark 
Play'd no mad pranks at firft : But Phsedria 
Got him immediately a Mufick-Girl,: 
Fond of her to diftratflion ! She belong'd 
To a moft avaricious fordid pimp ; 
Nor had we aught to give;-— th' old gentleman 
Had taken care of That. Nought elfe remained. 
Except to feed his eyes, to follow her, 
To lead her out to fchool, -f and hand her home. 
We too, for lack of other bufmefs, gave 
Our time to Phaedria. Oppofite the fchool. 
Whither Ihe went to take her lefibns, flood 
■^K Barber's (hop, wherein moft comm.only 
We waited her return. Hither one day 
Came a young man in tears : j] we were amaz'dj 



* Made your Market.] SciJIi 
uti foro. An allufion to mer- 
chants, who fix the price of 
commodities in proportion to 
the demand there is for them. 

DONATUS. 

•{- To , lead her out to fchool.'] 
Mufick-fchools, where theSIave- 
merchants fent their Girls to at- 
tain accomplifhments, which 
might, enhance their price. 
Cooke. 

X A Barber'' i ft: op.] Barbers 
fliops in Athens and Rome were 
places of publick relbrt iot con- 



verfation, much of the nature 
of our CofFee-houfes. Patrick. 

I) Came a young man in tears.] 
In Apollodorus this young man 
is no other than the Barber 
himfelf, who was jull returned 
from cutting off the young wo- 
man's hair, which was one of 
the ufual ceremonies of m.ourn- 
ing among the Greeks. This 
circumllance Terence has judi- 
cioufly altered, that he might 
not fliock the Roman fpedtators 
with manners fo very foreign to 
their own. Doijatus. 

And 



P H O R M I O. 



2! I 



And afk'd the caufe. Never (faid he, and wept) 

Did I luppofe the weight of poverty 

A load fo lad, fo infupportable. 

As it appear'd but now. — I faw but now. 

Not far from hence, a miferable virgin 

Lamenting her dead mother.* Near the corpfe 

She fat i nor friend, nor kindred, nor acquaintance. 

Except one poor old woman, was there near 

To aid the funeral. I pitied her ; 

Her beauty too was exquifite,— In Ihort, 

He mov'd us all : And Antipho at once 

Cried, " Shall we go and vifit her?"—" Why, ay, 

" I think fo," faid the other, " let us go !" 

" Condud us, if you pleafe." — We went, arriv'd, 

And faw her. — Beautiful Ihe v/as indeed ! 

More juftly to be reckoned fo, for flie 

Had no additions to fet off her beauty. 

Her hair difiieveU'd, barefoot, woe-be-gone. 

In tears, and miferably clad : that if 

The life and foul of beauty had not dwdt 

Within her very form, all thefe together 

Mull have extinguifh'd it. — The fpark, pofTefs'd 

Already with the Mufick-Girl, juft cried, 

'' She's well enough." — But our young gentleman — 

* Lamenting her dead mother.'] of the beautiful virgin ; efpecl- 

The Poet has managed this ally as we find inthe catailrophe 

part of the Narration with fo that the death of this woman 

much addrcfs, that we are not give's the poet a better opportu- 

fo much afFeded at the death nity of eftablifhing t!ie general 

of themcther, asat thediftrefs happinefs. D-katus. 



Ill P Ht O R M i O. 

Dav. Fell, I fuppofe, in love ? 

Get. In love indeed. 
But mark the end ! Next day, away he goes 
To the old woman ftraight, befeeching her 
To let him have the girl : — " Not Ihe indeed f 
*' Nor was it like a gentleman," fhefaid, 
" For him to think on't : She's a citizen, 
" An honeft girl, and born of honeft parents: — 
" If he wou'd marry her indeed, by law 
" He might do that ; on no account, aught elfe." 
—-Our fpark, diftrafted, knew not what to do : 
At once he long'd to marry her, at once 
Dreaded his abfent father. 

Bav. Wou'd not He, 
Had he returned, have giv'n confent ? 

Get. Towed 
A girl of neither family nor fortune ? 
Never. 

Dav. What then ? 

Get. What then ! There is a Parafite,' 
One Phormio, a bold enterprifmg fellov/j 
Who — all the Gods confound him ! — 

Bav. What did He? 

Get. Gave us the following counfel. — -" There's 
" a law 
" That Orphan Girls lhou*d wed their next of kin, 
'' Which law obliges too their next of kin 
" To marry them.---ril fay, that you're her kinfman, 

'' And 



P H O R M I O, ?i^ 

** And fue a writ againft you. I'll pretend 

" To be her father's friend, and bring the caufe 

" Before the judges. Who her father was, 

" Her mother who, and how Ihe's yo\jr relation, 

*' All this Iham evidence I'll forge; by which 

" The caufe will turn entirely in my favour. 

" You fhall difprove no tittle of the charge; 

" So I fucceed. — Your father will return ; 

" Profecute Me;— what then? — The Girl's our own.'' 

Dav. A pleafant piece of impudence I 

Get. It pleas'd 
Our fpark at leaft : He put \t into pradlice j 
Came into court; and he was call; and married, 

Dav. How fay. you ? 

Get. Juft as you have heard, 

Dav. Oh Geta, 
What will become of you? 

Get. I don't know, faith. 
But only this I know, whate'er chance brings, 
I'll patiently endure. 

Dav. Why, that's well faid. 
And like a man. 

Get. All my depcndance is 
XJpon myfelf. 

Dav. And that's the beft. 

Get. I might 
Beg one indeed to intercede for me, 

P 3 Who 



2!4 P H O R M I O. 

Who may plead thus — " Nay, pardon him this once! 
" But if he fails again, I've not a word 
" To fay for him."— And well if he don't add, 
" When I go hence, e'en hang him!" 

Bav. What of him, 
Gentleman-Ulher to the Mufick-Girl ?* 
How goes He on ? 

Get. So, fo ! 

Dav. He has not much 
To give perhaps. 

Get, Juft nothing, but mere hope. 

Dav. His father too, is he returned ? 

Get. Not yet. 

Dav. And your old man, when do you look for 
Him? 

Get. I don't know certainly: but I have heard 
That there's a letter from him come to port. 
Which I am going for. 

Dav. Wou'd you aught elfe 
With me, good Geta ? 

Get. Nothing, but Farewell ! \_Exit Davus. 



* Genileman-Uper to the Mu- Alcibiades: and Davus humour- 

/ick GirL] Sluid Pirdagogus ilk. oufly applies this name to Phx- 

The fervants who attended dria, who, as Geta had told 

children to and from fchool him, attended the Girl to and 

were by the Greeks called Pe- from the Muiick-rchool. Da- 

dagogues. Socrates was Tati- cier. 
rically called the Pedagogue of 



Ho, 



P H O R M I O. 215- 

Ho, Boy! what, nobody at home! [Enter Boy.'\ 

Take this, 
And give it Dorcium.* [Gives the Purfe, and Exit. . 

SCENE III. 
ANTIPHO, PH^DRIA, 

Ant. Is it come to this ? 
My father, Phsedria!— my beft friend! — That I 
Shou'd tremble, when I think of his return! 
When, had I not been inconfiderate, 
I, as 'tis meet, might have expefted him, 

Ph^^e. What now ? 

Ant. Is that a queftion ? And from You, 
Who know th' atrocious fault I have committed ? 
Oh, that it ne'er had enter'd Phormio's mind 
To give fuch counfel ! nor to urge me on. 
In the extravagance of blind defire. 
To this radi aft, the fource of my misfortunes ! 
I fhou'd not have polTefl her: that indeed 
Had made me wretched fome few days. — But then 
This conflant anguifh had not torn my mind. — 

Ph^. I hear you. 

Ant. -while each moment I expeft 

* And give it DorciumA Da Planefium, Glyceriura. Do- 
fjoc Dorcio. — Dcrcio from Dorci- katus, 
um, the name of a woman, as 

P 4 His 



2i5 P H O R M I O. 

His coming to divorce me. 

Pba. Other men. 
For lack of what they love, arc miferable j 
Abundance is your grievance. You're too rich 
A lover, Antipho ! For your condition 
Is to be wilh'd and pray'd for. Now, by heaven. 
Might I, fo long as you have done, enjoy 
My love, it were bought cheaply with my life. 
How hard my lot, unfatisfied, unbleft ! 
How happy your*s, in full pofleflion ! — One 
Of lib'ral birth, ingenuous difpofition. 
And honeft fame, without expence, you've got : 
The wife, whom you defir'd ! — in all things blefl. 
But want the difpofition to believe fo. 
Had you, like me, a fcoundrel pimp to deal with. 
Then you'd perceive — But fure 'tis in our nature. 
Never to be contented. 

Ant. Now to Me, 
Phaedria, 'tis You appear the happy man. 
Still quite at large, free to confider ilill. 
To keep, perfue, or quit her : I, alas. 
Have fo entangled and perplext myfelf. 
That I can neither keep, nor let her go. 
— What now ? isn't that our Geta, whom I fee 
Running this way ? — 'Tis he himfelf~Ah me ! 
How do I fear what news he brings ! 



SCENE 



P H O R M I O. 217 

SCENE IV. 
Enter at a difiance G E T A running. 

Get. Confufion! 
A quick thought, Geta, or youVe quite undone. 
So many evils take you unprepar*d ; 
Which I know neither how to fhun, nor how 
To extricate myfelf : for this bold ftroke 
Of our's can't long be hid. 

Ant. What's this confufion ? 

Get. Then I have fcarce a moment's time to think. 
My mafter is arriv'd. 

Ant. What mifchief 's that ? 

Get. Who, when he fhall have heard it, by what art 
Shall I appeafe his anger ? — Shall I fpeak ? 
'Twill irritate him. — Hold my peace? — enrage him. — 
Defend myfelf? — Impoffible!* — Oh, wretch! 
Now for myfelf in pain, now Antipho 
Diftracts my mind. — But him I pity mofl ; 
For him I fear; 'tis he retains me here: 
For, were it not for him.^ I'd foon pravide 
For my own fafety — ay, and be rereng'd 
On the old greybeard — carry fomething off, 

* Defend myfelf ? ImpoJJible !'\ brick," was a proverb, Ugni- 
P urgent me? Later em Iwve?}!. — fying to labour in vain. Jl 

Later em laniare, *' to wafh % 

And 



2i8 P H O R M I o; 

And Iliew my mafter a light pair of heels. 

Ant. What fcheme to rob and run away is this ? 

Get. But where fhall I find Antipho ? where feel^ 
him ? 

Ph£. He mentions you. 

Ant. I know not what, but doubt 
That- he's the meffenger of fome ill news. 

Ph£. Have you your wits ? 

Get. I'll home : he's chiefly there. 

Fh^e. Let's call him back ! 

Ant. Holo, you ! flop ! 

Get. Heyday ! 
Authority enough, be who you will. 

Ant. Geta ! 

Geta, turning.'] The very man I wifh'd to meet ! 

Ant. Tell us, what news.'' in one word, if 

you can. 

Get. I'll do it. 

Ant. Speak ! 

Get. This moment at the Port — — 

Ant. My father? 

Get. Even fo. 

Ant. Undone ! 

Ph^e. Heyday ! 

Ant. What Ihall I do ? 

Ph^. What fay you ? [to Geta. 

Get. That I've feen 

His father. Sir,— your Uncle. 

Ant. 



P H O R M I O. 219 

Ant. How fliall I, 
Wretch that I am ! oppofe this fudden evil ? 
Shou'd I be fo unhappy, to be torn 
From thee, my Phanium, life's not worth my care. 

.Get. Since that's the cafe then, Antipho, you ought 
To be the more upon your guard. 

Ant. Alas ! 
I'm not myfelf. 

Get. But now you Ihou'd be mofl fo, Antipho. 
For if your. father Ihou'd difcern your fear. 
He'll think you confcious of a fault. 

Pha. That's true. 

Ant. I cannot help it, nor feem otherwife. 

Get. How wou'd you manage in worfe difficulties ? 

Ant. Since I'm not equal to bear this, to thofe 
I fhou'd be more unequal. 

Get. This is nothing. 
Pooh, Phsdria, let him go ! why wafte our time ? 
I v/ill be gone. [^oing. 

Fha:. And I. \Z^i^Z' 

An}. Nay, prithee, flay ! 
What if I Ihou'd diffemble ?— Will that do ? 

{endeavouring to qjfume another mr. 

Get. Ridiculous ! 

Ant. Nay, look at me ! Will That 
Suffice ? 

Get. Not it. 

Arit. Or this ? 

Get. 



220 P H O R M I O, 

Get. Almoft. 

Ant. Or this? 

Get. Ay! now youVe hit it. Do but flick to thatj 
Anfwer him boldly j give him hit for dafh. 
Nor let him bear you down with angry words. 

Ant. I underftand you. 

Get. " Forc'd"— " againft your will"— 
[*« By law" — " by fentence of the court" — d'ye 

take me ? 
— But what old gentleman is that, I fee 
Turning the corner of the ftreet ? 

Ant. 'Tis he. 
I dare not face him. [goi^Z- 

Get. Ah, what is*t you do ? 
Where d'ye run, Antipho ! Stay, ftay, I fay. 

Ant. I know myfelf and my offence too well : 
To you then I commend my life and loVe. \_Exit^ 

S C E N E V. 

Manent P H iE D R I A, «»^ G E T A, 

Pha. Geta, what now ? 

Get. You Iliall be roundly chid ; 
I foundly drubb'd; or I am much deceiv'd. 
— But what e'en now we counfell'd Antipho, 
It now behoves ourfelves to pradile, Phasdria. 



P H O R M I O. 221 

Phied. Talk not of what behoves, but fay at once 
What you wou'd have me do. 

Get. Do you remember 
The plea, whereon you both agreed to reft, 
At your firft vent'ring on this enterprifc ? 
" That Phormio's fuit was juft, fure, equitable^ 
" Not to be controverted." — 

Pha. I remember. 

Get. Now then that plea! or, if it's pofllble. 
One better, and more plaufible. 

Ph^. ril do't. 

Get. Do you attack him firft! I'll lie in ambuftij 
To re-inforce you, if you give ground, 

Ph^e, Well. \_they retire. 

SCENE VI. 
Enter DEMIPHO<3/ another part of the Stage. 

Dem. How's this ! A wife ! what, Antipho ! and 
ne'er 
A(k my confent ^ — nor my authority 
Or, grant we pafs authority, not dread 
My wrath at leaft ? — To have no fenfe of ftiamc ? 
— Oh, impudence! — Oh, Gsta, rareadvifer! 

Get. Geta at laft. 

Dem. What they will fay to me. 

Or what excufe they will devife, I wonder. 

^ Get, 



222 



P H O R M I O. 



Get, Oh, we have fettled that already : Think 
Of fomething elfe. 

Dem. Will he fay this to me, 
— " Againft my will I did it" — Forc'd by law" — ' 
— I hear you : I confefs it. 

Get. Very well. 

T)em. But confcious of the fraud, without a word 
In anfwer or defence, to yield the caufe 
Tamely to your opponents— did the law 
Force you to that too ? 

Ph^. That's home. 

Get. Give me leave ! 
I'll manage it. 

Dem. 1 know not what to do : 
This ftroke has come fo unawares upon me. 
Beyond all expeftation, pafl; belief. 
— I'm fo enrag'd, I can't compofe my mind 
To think upon it. — Wherefore ev'ry man,* 



• * Wherefore ev^ry man, ^c.'\ 
^hiaynobrem omnes, t^c. This 
paffage is quoted by Tully in 
the thirJ book of his Tufculan 
Qu^flions, and the maxim con- 
tained in thefe lines was a fa- 
vourite principle among the 
Stoicks. But I cannot help 
thinking that the introduftion 
of it in this place has com- 
monly been con fide red too feri- 
ouily ; and I have fcarce any 
doubt but that 7\rcnL-e in- 



tended it as a Rroke of charac- 
ter. Commentators, in gene- 
ral, are never fo happy as when 
they light upon a fentence in a 
claffick author, which they can 
extol as a leflon of found mo- 
rality : but in dramatick writ- 
ings we are not merely to con- 
fine ourfelves to the confidera- 
tion of what is faid, but who 
fays it. Donatus, in his pre- 
face to this play, fays, '* that 
" it is founded on paffions al- 
•' inoft 



P H O R M I O. 



223 



When his affairs go on moft fwimmingly, 
Ev'n then it moft behoves to arm himlelf 
Againft the coming ftorm : lofs, danger, exile. 
Returning ever let him look to meet ; 
His fon in fault, wife dead, or daughter Tick — 
All common accidents, and may have happen'd ; 
That nothing fhou'd feem new or ftrange. But if 
Aught has fall'n out beyond his hopes, all that 
Let him account clear gain. 

Get. Oh, Pha^dria, 
'Tis wonderful, how much a wifer man 
I am than my old mafter. My misfortunes 
I have confider'd well. — At his return 
Doom'd to grind ever in the mill, beat, chain'd^ 
Or ^tt to labour in the fields ; — of thefe 
Nothing will happen new. If aught falls out 
Beyond my hopes, all that I'll count clear gain. 
— But why delay t'accoft th' old gentleman. 
And fpeak him fair at firft } 

\Ph<edria goes- forward, 

Dem. Methinks I fee 



" moft too high for Comedy ; 
" but that the Poet contrives 
*' to temper every circumftance 
*' by his art," In the prefent 
inftance, the old gentlem.an is 
indeed in a violent paiTion, but 
his anger is fo managed through- 
out the fzQae. that it becomes 



truly comick : And Donatus 
very aptly refers us to a fi- 
milar paflage in the Brothers, 
where Demea in like manner 
delivers moral precepts, which 
are in like manner turned to ri- 
dicule, and archly parodied by 
the impudent flave. 



My 



£24 P H O R M I O. 

My nephew Phsdria. 

Ph^. My good Uncle, welcome ! 

Dem. Your fervant ! — But where's Antipho ? 

Pha. I'm glad 
To fee you fafe— - 

Dem. Well, well ! — But anfwer me. 

Ph^. He's well: hard by.— But have affairs turn'd 
out 
According to your wifhes ? 

Dem. Wou'd they had ! 

Phie. Why, what's the matter ? 

Dem. What's the matter, Phsedria ? 
You've clapp'd up a fine marriage in my abfence. 

Pha. What ! are you angry with him about That ? 

Get. Well counterfeited 1 

Dem. Shou'd I not be angry ? 
Let me but fet eyes on him, he fhall know 
That his offences have converted me 
From* a mild father to a moft fevere one. 

Pha. He has done nothing. Uncle, to offend you. 

Dem. See, all alike ! the whole gang hangs together : 

Know one, and you know all. 

Pha. Nay, 'tis not fo. 

Dem. One does a fault, the other's hard at hand 

To bear him out: when t'other flips, he's ready: 

Each in their turn ! 

Get. rfaith th' old gentleman 

Has blunder'd on their humours to a hair. 

Dem, 

3 



P H O R M I O. 2^5 

' Dem. For, were't not 'io^ you'd not defend him, 
Phasdria. 

Pha. If, Uncle, Antiplio has done a wrong 
Or to his interefl, or reputation, 
I am content he fulFer, as he may : 
But if another, with mahcious fraud. 
Has laid a fnare for inexperienced youth, 
And triumph'd o'er it ; can you lay the blame 
Onus, or on the judges, who oft take 
Thro' envy from the rich, or from compalTion 
Add to the poor ? 

Get. Unlefs I knew the caufe, 
I Ihou'd imagine this was truth he fpoke. 

Bern. What judge can know the merits on your fide, 
When you put in no plea; as he has done ? 

Ph^. He has behav'd like an inj^enuous vouth. 
When he came into court, he wanted pow'r 
To utter v/hat he had prepar'd, fo much 
He was abalh'd by fear and modefty. 

Get. Oh brave ! — But why, without more lofs of 
time. 
Don't I accofl th' old man ? [going up.'] My mafter, 

v/elcome ! 
I am rejoic'd to fee you fafe return'd. 

Dem. What! my good mafterGovernor! yourllavc! 
The prop ! the pillar of cur family ! 
To whom, at my departure hence, I gave 
My fon in charge. 
Vol. II. Q^ Gef 



426 P H O R M I O. 

Get. I've heard you for fome time 
Accufe us all quite undefervedly, 
And me, of all, moft undefervedly. 
For what cou'd I have done in this affair ?, 
A flave the laws will not allow to plead \ 
^or can he be an evidence, 

T>em. I grant it. 
]^ay more — the boy was bafhful-— I allow it. 
■r— You but a flave. — ^But if fhe had been prov'4 
Ever fo plainly a relation, why 
Needed he marry her .? and why not rather 
Give her, according to the law, a portion,* 
And let her feek fome other for a hufband } 
Why did he rather bring a beggar home ? 

Get, 'Twas not the thought, but money that was 
wanting. 

Bern, He might have borrow'd it. 

Get. Have borrow'd it ! 
Eafily faid. 

Bern. If not to be had.elfe. 
On intereft. 

Get. Nay, now indeed you've hit it. 
Who wou'd advance him money in your life .?f 

• Gi've her, according to the the old gentleman on this very 
lanu, a portion?] By this pro- foundation. Donatus. 
pofal Terence artfully prepares 

us for the impofition of Phor- f Who <vjoiid advance him, 
inio, who extorts money from money in^cur lift /*j Alexander 

ab 



P H O R M I O. 



227 



Dem. Well, well, it fliall not, and it cannot be. 
That I faou'd iliiter her to live with him 
As wife a fingle day. There is no caule. 
— Wou'd I might fee that fellow, or cou*d tell 
Where he refides ! 

Get. What, Phormio! 

Dem, The girl's Patron ! * 

Get. He fliall be with you ftraight. 

Dcm. Where's Antipho ? 

Ph^. Abroad. 

Dem. Go, Phsdriai find him, bring him here. 

Pha. I'll go direaiy, [Exit. 

Get. aftde.'] Ay, to Pamphila. [^Exit. 



ab Alexandre, Genial. Dier. 
L. I. takes notice of an antient 
decree of Senate, derived to the 
Romans from a law of Solon, 
in which, in order to provide 
againfl: young men borrowing 
money during the life of their 
fathers, it was ordained, that 
in cafe of non-payment, the 
lender fhould have no remedy 
at law. In fuch cafes the fe- 
curity was made void by this 
decree ; left the fons of rich 



men, being involved in debt, 
fhould be tempted to extri- 
cate themfelves by difhonour- 
able means, or even to hafteii 
the death of a parent, Wks- 
TERHOvius. Patrick. 

* The girl* 5 Patron.'] IJlum 
Patronum muUeris. They who un- 
dertook to carry on a law-fuit 
for another were called Patroni, 
Patrons, 



0.2 



SCENE 



228 



P H O R M I O. 



^ C E N E VII. 

D E M I P H O alone. 

ril home, and thank the Gods for myreturn ;* 
Thence to the Forum, and convene fome friends. 
Who may be prefent at this interview. 
That Phormio may not take me unprepar'd. \^Exih 



* ril home, and thank the Gods 
for my return.] It was the cuf- 
tom for thofe returning from a 
voyage or journey to give thanks 
in a formal manner to theGods, 
even before they faw their wives 
or friends. And every citizen 



had at home Houfhold Gods 
(ufually called Pcnatej, Domtf- 
tici, or Lares) which he and his 
family worihipped in privase, 
and confidered as the particular 
guardians of the family. Wis- 

TERHOVIUS, 



ACT 



P H O R M I Q. 



229 



«^* •^^-^^^^^^^^^^^'t^^^^^^-f *4'4'-^4'-t'4'4'^4^4»4'4 * •t'f'l' *4 * •?'** 



ACT IF. S C ENE I. 



P H O R M I O, G E T A. 



Pbor* yl ND Antipho, you fay, has flunk away, 
-*• ^ Fearing his father's prefence ? 

Get. Very true. 

Pbor. Poor Phanium left alone ? 

GeL 'Tis even fo. 

Phor. And the old gentleman enrag'd ? 

GeL Indeed. 

Pbor. The fum of all then, Phormio, reftsonYou: 
On you, and you alone. You've bak'd this cake. 
E'en eat it for your pains. About it then ! 

GeL I do befeech you. 

Phor. to bimfelf.'] What if he enquire }-- 



* ^nd Antipho, you fay, ^c] 
It is faid that this play being 
once rehearfed before Tereace 
and fome of his moft intimate 
acquaintance, Ambivius, who 
afted the part of Phormio, came 
in drunk, which threw the au- 
thor into a violent paffion : 
but Ambivius had fcarce re- 



peated a few lincsj Hammering, 
and fcratching his head, before 
Terence became pacified, de- 
claring that when he was writ- 
ing thofe very lines, he abfolute- 
ly had fuch a Parafite, as Am- 
bivius then reprefented, in his 

thoughts. DONATUS. 



Q-3 



&tt. 



230 P H O R M I O, 

Get, Our only hope's in Yon. ' 

Phor. to himfclf.'] I have it ! — Then, 
Suppofe he offer to return the girl ? 

Get. You urg'd us to it. 

Phor. to himfelf.'] Ay ! it Ihall be lb. 

Get, Aflift us ! 

Phor. Let him come. Old Gentleman ! 
'Tis here : it is engender'd : I am arm'd 
With all my counfels. 

Get. What d'ye mean to do ? 

Phor. What wou'd you have me do, unlefs contrivf 
That Phanium may remain, that Antipho 
Be freed from blame, aad all the old man's rage 
Turn'd upon Me ? * 

Get. Brave fellow! friend indeed ! 
And yet I often tremble for you, Phormio, 
Left all this noble confidence of your's 
End in the ftocks at laft.-f 

* Turned upon tne.'] In this erumpere is fuppofed to allodc 

fcene Terence exhibits the lower to the drawing of a bow till the 

order of Parafites, who in- firing break : but the phrafe is 

gratiated themfelves by Sharp- more generally fuppofed in this 

ing and Roguery ; as in the place to imply feme corporal 

Eunuch he defcribes the Para- punifhment inflided on male- 

fites of a higher rank, and of facftors, !^iaf^pe in nervum 

A newer fpecies, who obtained conjiciebantur, ex aliquo mak- 

their ends by Flattery. Do- Jido in carcerem mijji, fays Dona- ■ 

KATUs. tus. Wefterhovius explains this 

pafiagethus. £/f autem'Neivus 

•^ End in the flocks at laj}.^ In <vinculi lignei genus, hi qutd pedes 

neri'um erumpat denique. Several conjeiii ariiantur ; which is a 

interpretations are given of pretty exadl dcfcription of the 

thefe words. By fome in nervum llocks. 

5 Phor. 



P H O R M I O. 231 

Phor. Ah, 'tis hot fo. 
I'm an old flager too, and know my road. 
How many men d'ye think I've baflinadoed 
Almoil to death? Aliens, and Citizens ? 
The oftner, ftill the fafer. — Tell me then, 
Didft ever hear of adions for aflault 
And batt'ry brought againft me ? 

Get. How comes that? 

Phor. Becaufe the net's not ftretch'd to catch the 
hawk, 
Or kite, who do us wrong; but laid for thofe. 
Who do us none at all: In them there's profit. 
In thefe mere labour loft. Thus other men 
May be in danger, who have aught to lofe ; 
1, the world knows, have nothing. — You will fay, 
* They'll feize my perfon. — No, they won't maintain 
A fellow of my ftomach. — And they're wife. 
In my opinion, if for injuries 
They'll not return the higheft benefit. 

Get. It is impofiible for Antipho 
To give you thanks fufiicient* 

Phor. Rather fay, 
No man fufiiciently can thank his patron. 

• They'll feize my per/on.'\ tus obferves on this paflage^ 

Ducent damnatum domum. Lite- Infolvent Debtors were by the 

rally ** they nuill had me con- Law made over as flaves to their 

dtmned heme :" For, as Dona- Creditors. 

0^4 You 



232 P H O R M I O. 

* You at free coft to come! anointed, bath'd, 
Eafy and gay 1 while he's eat up with care 
And charge, to cater for your entertainment t 
He gnaws his heart, you laugh ; eat firft, fit firfl. 
And fee f a Doubtful Banquet plac'd before you ! 

Get. Doubtful! what phrafe is that ? 

Phor. "Where you're in doubt. 
What you fhall rather chufe. Delights like thefe. 
When you but think how fweet, how dear, they arej 
Him that affords them muft you not fuppofe 
A very Deity I 

Get. The old man's here. 

• 7'ou at free ccjl, l^c] This fixth book of the fatires of 
paflage is not taken from Ennius. 
Apollodorus, but from the 

^uippe Jine cura, Leliis, lauius, cum aiii'eniiy 

Infertis malis, exptdito brachio, 

j^lacer, celjus, lupino expetlans inipetu^ 

Mox dum alteriiis ahligurias bona : quid 

Cen/es Dominis ejje animi ? proh di'vtim Jides ! 

Ille trijlis cibum dum JeiHJcity tu yidens voras. 

Gay, void of care, anointed when you come. 

With fmacking jaw, and arm prepar'd to carve. 

Keen, eager, and impatient as the Wolf, 

Expeding every moment to fall on, 

And gorge yourfelf at his expence ; what, think you, 

Poflcfics then the matter's mind ? Good heaven ! 

He fits, and with a melancholy air 

Broods o'er the feaft, which laughing you devour. 

DONATUS. 

f A Doubtful Banquet. '[Cccna who takes frequent opportuni- 
d-ib'ia. Phormio explains this ties cf imitating ourauthor, has 
expreffi'jn himfelf. Horace, adopted this phrafe.' 

Mind 



P H O R M I O. 2SI 

Mind what you do ! the firft attack's the fierceft : 
Suftain but that, the reft will be mere play. 

[they retire, 

SCENE II. 

Enter at a dijlance D E M I P H O. H E G I O, 

C R A T I N U S, C R I T O, following. 

Dem. Was ever man fo grofsly treated, think ye ? 
— This way, Sirs, I befeech you. 

Get. He's enrag'd ! 

Phor. Hift ! mind your cue : Fll work him, 
— [coming forward, and fpeaking loud.'\ Oh, ye Gods.f 
Does he deny that Phanium's his relation ? 
What, Demipho ! Does Demipho deny 
That Phanium is his kinfwoman ? 

Get. He does. 

Phor. And who her father was he does not know? 

Get. No. 

Defn. to the Lawyers. 1 Here's the very fellow, I 
believe. 
Of whom I have been fpeaking. — Follow me ! 

Phor. aloud.'] And that he does not know, who 
Scilpho was ? 

Get. No. 

Phor. 



234 P H O R M r O. 

Phor. Ah, becaufe, poor thing, Ihe's left in want,* 
Her father is unknown, and fhe defpis'd* 
What will not avarice do ? 

Get. If you infinuate 
My mafter's avaricious, woe be to you ! 

Dem. behind.'] Oh impudence ! he dares accufe me 
firfl. 

Phor. As to the youth, I cannot take offence. 
If he had not much knowledge of himj fince. 
Now in the vale of years, in want, his work 
His livelihood, he nearly altogether 
Liv'd in the country : where he held a farm 
Under my father. I have often heard 
The poor old man complain, that this his kinfmart 
Negleded him. — But what a man ! A man 

* Ah ! becaufe Jhe^s left in occurs among the fragments of 
*want, feV,] This fentiment the Brothers of Menander* 



Epvo:/ eupsij/ juyytvi^ 



riev«TO$ tqiVi hSjcis" yap o(J.o?^oyet 



<- 



'Tis hard for thofe in want to find their kindred j 
For no one will acknowledge his relation 
To the unhappy wretch that wants affiftance 3 
Fearing affiflance will be foon requir'd. 

In the fcquel of this fcene, in his altercation with De- 
Phormio enlarges on this thought mipho. 



— — — — — But if, poor man, 
Stilpho had left behind him an eftate, &c. 



Of 



P H O k M I O. 235 

Of moft exceeding virtue. 

Get. Much at one : 
Yourfelf and He you praife fo much. 

Phor. Away ! 
Had I not thought him what I've fpoken of him, 
I wou'd not for his daughter's fais:e have drawn 
So many troubles on our family, 
Whom this old cuff now treats fo fcandaloufly. 

Get. What, ftill abufe my abfent mafler, Rafcal! 

Phor. It is no more than he deferves. 

Get. How, villain ! 

Dem. Geta ! [calling. 

Get. Rogue, Robber, Pettyfogger ! [to Phormio, 
pretending not to hear Demipho, 

Bern. Geta ! 

Phor. Anfwcr. [apart to Geta, 

Get. turning.'] Wiio's that P—Oli ! 

Dem. Peace ! 

Get. Behind your back 
All day without cefTation has this knave 
Thrown fcurvy terms upon you, fuch as none 
But men, like him, can merit. 

Dem. Well ] have done : 

[putting Geta by, then addrejjlng Phormio. 
Young man ! permit me firft to afk one queflion. 
And, if you plcafe, vouchfafe to anfwer me. 
Who wa3 this friend of your's ? Explain ! and how 

Might 



iiS^ 



P H O R M I O. 



Might he pretend that I was his relation ? 

Phor. So ! you filh for't, as if you didn't know* 
[fneeringly. 

Bern. Know ! I ! 

Phor. Ay J you. 

Dem. Not I: You that maintain 
\ ought, inftru6t me how to recollect. 

Phor. What ! not acquainted with your coufin ? 

Dem. Plague ! 
Tell me his name. 

Phor. His name ? ay ! 

Dem. Well, why don't you ? 

Phor. Confufion ! Pve forgot the name.* [ciparL 

Dem. What fay you ? 

Phor. Geta, if you remember, prompt me. 

[apart to Geta.] Pihaw ! 

I will not tell. — As if you didn't know. 

You're come to try me. [loud to Demipho. 

Dem. How ! I try you ? 

Get. Stilpho. [whifpering Phormio* 

Phor. What is't to me .? — Stilpho. 



• Pve forgot the name.] In 
the Trinummus of Plautus, 
where a fharper is employed, 
like Phormio, to carry on an 
impofture, He in like manner 
forgets the name of the perfon 
from whom he pretends to come ; 
and what renders the circum- 
flance ftill more pleafant is, 



that he happens to be engaged ia 
converfation with the very per- 
fon himfelf. The Trinummus, 
taken all together, is, I think, 
inferior to this play of our au- 
thor ; but there are in it 
fome fcenes of uncommon plea- 
fantry. 

Dem. 



P H O R M I O. 237 

J) em. Whom fay you ? 

Phor» Stilpho : 
Did you know Stilpho, Sir ? 

Dem. I neither know him ; 
Nor ever had I kinfman of that name. 

Phor. How ! are you not afham'd ? — But if, poor 
man, 
Stilpho had left behind him an ellate 
Of fome ten Talents 

Dem. Out upon You ! 

Phor. Then 
You would have been the firft to trace your line 
Quite from your Grandfire and Great Grandfire. 

Dem. True. 
Had I then come, I'd have explain'd at large 
How fhe was my relation : So do You ! 
Say, hov/ is fhe my kinfwoman ? 

Get. Well faid ! 
Mafter, you're right. — Take heed \ 

[apart to Phormio. 

Pbor. I have explain'd 
All that moll clearly, where I ought, in court. 
If it were falfe, why did not then your fon 
Refute it ? 

Dem. Do you tell me of my fon, 
Whofe folly can't be fpoke of, as it ought ? 

Phor. But You, who are fo wife, go, feck the 

judge : 

Alk 



238 P H O R M I O. 

Afk fcntence in the felf-fame caufe again : 
*Becaufe You're Lord alone j and have alone 
Pow'r to obtain the judgement of the court 
Twice in one caufe. 

Bern. Although I have been wrong'd. 
Yet, rather than engage in litigation. 
And rather than hear You i as if Ihe were 
Indeed related to us, as the law 
Ordains, I'll pay her dov/ry : Take her hence. 
And with her take five Mins. 

Phor. Ha ! ha ! ha ! 
A pleafant gentleman ! 

Bern. Why, what's the matter ? 
Have I demanded any thing unjuit ? 
Sha'n't I obtain this neither, v/hich is law ? 

Phor. Is't even fo, Sir? — Like a common harlot 
When youVe abus'd her, does the law ordain 
That you fhou'd pay her hire, and whiflle her off ? 
Or, left a citizen thro' poverty 
Bring fham.e upon her honour, does it order 
That fhe be given to her next of kin 
To pafs her life with him ? which you forbid. 

Dcm. Ay ; to her next of kin : But why to Us ; - 

* Becau/e Tou're Lord alone. '\ arbitrary a<^s were particularly 

^uandoquidem folus regnas. An odious. Thus Sannio in the 

invidious fneer ; becaufe in A- Brothers ; Regnumne, jE/chiney 

thens, where the people were hie tu pojpdes ? " Do you reign 

tenaciousof liberty and the laws, King here, iilfchinus? "'Don at. 

Or 



P H O R M I O. 239 

Or wherefore ? 

Phor. Oh ! that matter is all fettled : 
Think on't no more. 

T)em. Not think on't ! I fhall think 
Of nothing elfe, till there's an end of this, 

Phor. Words, words ! 

Bern. I'll make them good, 

Phor. But, after all. 
With You I have no bufmef?, Demipho ! 
Your Son is cafl, not You : for at your age 
The coupling-time is over. 

Dem. Be affur'd 
That all I've faid. He fays: Or I'll forbid 
Him and this wife of his my houfe. 

Get. He's angry.. [aparf. 

Phor. No ; you'll think better on't. 

Dem. Are you refolv'd. 

Wretch that you are, to thwart me ev'ry way ? 

Phor. He fears, tho' he diflembles. 7 

i apart. 
Get. Well begun ! S 

Phor. Well; but what can't be cur'd muft be. 
endur'd : 
*Twere well, and like yourfelf, that w< were friends. 

Dem. I ! friend to you ? or chufe to f?e, or hear you ! 

Phor. Do but agree with her, you'l. have a girl 
To comfort your old age. Your yearj, confider ! 

ikm. Plague on your comfort! jtake her to 

yourfelf ! 

Phor» 



240 P H O R M I O. 

Phor. Ah ! don't be angry ! 

Dem. One word more, I've done. 
See that you fetch away this wench, and foon. 
Or I Ihall turn her headlong out o'doors. 
So much for Phormio ! 

Phor. Offer but to touch her. 
In any other manner than befeems 
A gentlewoman and a citizen, 
And I Ihall bring a fwinging writ againft you. 
So much for Demipho ! — If I am wanted, 
I am at home, d'ye hear ? [^apart to Geta. 

Qet. I underftand. [apart.'] [Exit Phormio. 

SCENE III. 

Dem. With how much care, and what folicitude. 
My fon affeds me, with this wretched match 
Plavinor embroii'd himfelf and me ! nor comes 
Into my fight, that I might know at leafl 
Or what he fiys, or thinks of this affair. ■ 
Go, you J ard fee if he's come home, or no. 

Get. I'm gone. [Exit. 

DetJi. Yoi fee, Sirs, how this matter flands. 
Whatfhallldo? Say, Hegio ! 

Hegio. IVLaning me .'' 

Cratinus, pbafe you, fhou'd fpeak firfl. 

J)em. Sa) then, 

4 Cratinus I 



P H O R IM I O, 541 

Cratinus ! 

Cra. Me d'ye queflion ? 

Dem. You. 

Cra. Then I, 
Whatever Iteps are beil I'd have you take. 
Thus it appears to Me. Whate'er your ion 
Has in your abfence done, is null and void 
In law and equity. — And fo you'll find. 
That's my opinion. 

Dem. Say now, Hegio ? 

Heg. He has, I think, pronounc'd moft learnedly,' 
But fo 'tis : many men, and many minds ! 
Each has his fancy : Now, in my opinion, 
Whate'er is done by law, can't be undone. 
*Tis fhameful to attempt it. 

Dem. Say you, Crito ! 

Cri. The cafe, I think, aiks more deliberation-' 
*Tis a nice point. 

Heg. Wou'd you aught elfe with us? 

Dem. You've utter'd Oracles. [Exeunt Lawyers.^ 
I'm more uncertain 
Now than I was before.* 

* r>n mere uncertainnonv than the manner of Terence. An 

/ nvas before,'] I believe there ordinary writer wowld have in* 

is no fcene in Comedy more dulged himfelf in twenty littJe 

highly feafoned with the Ridi- conceits on this occafion ; but 

culous than this before us. The the dry gravity of Terence ia- 

idea is truly comick, and it is finitely furpafles, as true hu- 

worked up with all that limpli- mour, all the drolleries, which, 

•city and chaftity, fo peculiar to perhaps even thcfe great Maf- 

V'oj.. II. R ten 



?42 



P H O R M I O. 



Re-enter G E T A. 



Cet. He*s not returnM. 

Vent. My Brother, as I hope, will foon arrive : 
"Whatever advice he gives me, that I'll follow. 
ril to the Port, and afk when they expeft him, 

\_Exit. 

Get. And I'll go find out Antipho, and tell him 
All that has paft. — But here he comes in time.* 



ters of Comedy, Plautus, or 
Moliere might have been temp- 
ted to throw out. It is the 
higheft art of a Dramatick Au- 
thor on fome occafions to lea\"e 
a good deal to the Ador : it 
has been remarked by Heinfius 
and others, that Terence was 
particularly attentive to this 
circumftance ; and Donatus in 
his preface to this Comedy 
fays, that it is tcta di'verbiis fa- 
cet ijjiinisy fff gejlum defideranti- 
hus fcenicum. 

* But here he comes in iime.'j 
Sed eccum ipfutn 'video in tempore 
hue fe recipere. Here in all the 
common books ends the fecond 
aft ; and the fcenes that make 
up the refidue of it here, in 
them compofe the third. Ma- 
flam Dacier faw the abfurdity. 



but follows the old divifion, ar- 
bitrarily omitting the above 
line, in order to break the pal- 
pable continuity of the fcenes ; 
and make the ftage appear to 
be vacant. But the line in -quef- 
tion is in all the copies ; nor is 
it likely that in fo bufy a play, 
the Author would have devoted 
a whole adl to the Epifode of 
Pha£dria and his Mufick-Girl. 
The divifion of the adls in 
this play is fo extremely con- 
fufed in all the books I have 
feen, that I have varied from 
them all. I have endeavoured 
to find out the natural refts or 
paufes in the adion, and to di- 
vide the afts in fuch a manner, 
as to allign a particular bufincfs 
to each. See the firil note to 
Aft V. 



SCENE 



P H O R M I O. 243 

SCENE IV. 
Enter at a diftance A N T I P H O. 

Mnt. to himfelf.'] Indeed, indeed, my Antipho, 
You're much to blame, to be fo poor in fpirit. 
What! fteal away fo guilty-like? and truft 
Your life and lafety to the care of others ? 
Would They be touch'd more nearly than Yourfelf ? 
Come what come might of ev'ry thing befide. 
Could you abandon the dear maid at home ? =*> 
Could you fo far deceive her eafy faith. 
And leave her to misfortune and diftrefs ? 
Her, who plac'd all her hopes in you alone ? 

Get. coming forwards.'] I'faith, Sir, we have thought 
you much to blame 
For your long abfence. 

Ant. You're the very man 
That I was looking for. 

Get. But ne'erthelefs 

We've mid no opportunity. 

Jnt. Oh, fpeak ! 
How go my fortunes, Geta ? has my father 
Any fufpicion that I v/as i n league 
With Phormio ? 

Get. Not a jot. 

R 2 Ant. 



24:4 P H O R M I O. 

Am. And may I hope ? 

Get. I don't know. 

Ant. Ah! 

Get. Unlefs that Phsedria 
Did all he could do for you.— 

Ant. Nothing new. 

Get. — AndPhormio, as on alloccafions eife, 
Prov'd himfelf a brave fellow. 

Ant. What did He ? 

Get. Out-fwagger'd your hot father. 

Ant. Well faid, Phormio ! 

Get. — I did the beft I could too. 

Ant. Honeft'Geta, 
I am much bounden to you all. 

Get. Thus, Sir, 
Stand things at prefent. As yet all is cairn. 
Your father means to wait your uncle's coming. 

Am. For what ? 

Get. For his advice, as he propos*d -, 
By which he will be rul'd in this affair. 

Ant. How do I dread my uncle's coming, Geta, 
Since by his fentence I muft live or die ! 

Get. But here comes Phsedria. 

Ant. Where ? 

Get. *From his old fchool. \^thcy retire. 

I* From his eld fchool. '\ Ab Excrcifes for the Graecian youth. 
Jud palafird. — Palajiravjo.% fro- Geta therefore, in allufion to 
pcrly the School of Gyirnaftick that, pkafiintly calls the Pro- 
curer's 



P II O R M 1 O, 



245 



SCENE V. 

Enter, from DorioV, D OR I O, P H ^E D R I A 

following, 

Pha. Nay, hear me, Dorio ! 

Dorio. Not I. 

Ph^. But a word ! 

Dorio. Let me alone. 

Ph^. Pray, hear me ! 

Dorio. I am tir'd 
With hearing the fame thing a thonfand times. 

Pkce. But what I'd fay, you would be glad to hear, 

Dc7'io. Speak then ! I hear. 

Pki?. Can't I prevail on you 
To flay but thefe three days ? — Nay, where d'ye go ? 

Do?io. I fliould have v/onder'd had you faid aught 
new. 

JnL behind.'] This Pimp, I fear, will work him- 
feif Qo good . * 



curer's licufe the palajlra of lenonun, ncquid fuo fuat capiti. 
Phaedria, inuch in the fame This paflage has much puzzled 



vein of humour that he ufed 
in talking of him at the open- 
ing of the play. 

* This pimpt I fear, li^ill 



the Commentators, I have 
followed Madam Dacier,though 
I do not think that her inter- 
pretation of the pafTage, or any 
ether comment that I have feen. 



*Vjsrk him/elf no good.l Metuo makes very good, fenfe of it. 



R 3 



Gd. 



246 l> H O R M I O. 

Get. I fear fo too. 
Ph<£. Won't you believe me ? 
Doric. Guefs. 
, Ph<e. Upon my honour. 
Dorio. Nonfenfe. 
Ph£. 'Tis a kindnefs 
Shall be repaid with intereft. 
Dorio. Words, words } 

Fh^. You'll be glad on'tj you will, believe mc. 
Dorio. Pfhaw! 
Pha. Tryj 'tis not long. 
Dorio. You're in the fame tune ftill. 
Ph<e. My kinfman, parent, friend.— 
Dorio. Ay, talk away. 
Ph^. Can you be fo inflexible, fo cruel, 
That neither pity, nor entreaties touch you ? 

Dorio. And can You be fo inconfiderate, 
And fo unconfcionable, Phsedria, 
To think that you can talk me to your purpofe. 
And wheedle me to give the girl for nothing ^ 
Ant. behind.'] Poor Phaedria ! 
Ph^. to himfelf.'] Alas, he fpeaks the truth. 
Get. to Ant. How weH they each fupport their 

characters ! 
Ph^e. to himfelf.'] Then that this evil fhould have 
come upon me. 
When Antipho was in the like diflrefs ! 

Jfnt. 



P H O R M I O. 247 

Ant. going up.'] Ha! what now, Phjedria? 
Phce. Happy, happy Antipho ! — 
Ant. I ? 

Ph^. Who have her you love in your pofTefTion, 
Nor e'er had plagues like thefe, to ftruggle with ! 

Ant. In my pofleflion? yes, I have, indeed. 
As the old faying goes, a Wolf by th' Ears :* 
For I can neither part with her, nor keep her. 
Dcrio. 'Tis juft my cafe with Him. 
Ant. to Dorio.] Thou thorough Bawd ! 
— to Ph^dria.'] What has he done ? 
Ph<s. Done? — The inhuman wretch 
Has fold my Pamphila. 
Get. What! Sold her? 
Ant. Sold her ? 
Pha;, Yes; fold her. 

Dorio, laughing.'] Sold her.-- -What a monftrous 
crime ! 
A wench he paid his ready money for. 

Pka. I can't prevail upon him, to wait for me. 
And to flave off his bargain but three days ; 
Till I obtain the money from my friends. 
According to their promife.— If I do not 
Pay it you then., don't wait a moment longer. 
Dorio. You ftun me. 



* I have a ivolf by the ears."] Aurihtis teneo Itipum. A prOVerb ; 
tliejneaning of which is explained in the next line. 



R 4 Ant, 



24S. P H O R M I O. 

Ant. 'Tis a very little time, 
For which he aflcs your patience, Dorio. 
Let him prevail on you ; your complaifance 
Shall be requited doubly. 

Dorio. Words ; mere words ! 

Ant. Can you then bear to fee your Pamphila 
Torn from this city, Ph^Edria? — Can you, Dorio, 
Divide their loves ? 

Dorio. Nor I, nor you. 

Get. Plague on you ! 

Dorio., toPhee.] I have, againft my natural difpofition. 
Born with you feveral months, ilill promifmg, 
Whimpering, and ne'er performing any thing : 
Now, on the contrary, Fve found a fpark. 
Who'll prove a ready-paymafter, no fniveler ; 
Give place then to your betters ! 

^nti. Surely, Phasdria, 
There was, if I remember, a day fettled 
That you fhould pay the money down. 

Pb^. There was. 

Dorio. Do I deny it ? 

Ant. Is the day paft ? 

Dorio. No. 
But this has come before it. 

Ant. Infamous ! 
Ar'n't you afham'd of fuch bafe treachery ? 

Doria. Not I, while I can get by't. 

• Get. 



P H O R M I O* 249 

Get. Scavenger ! 

Ph^. Is this juft dealing, Dorio ? 

Boric, 'Tis my way : 
So, if you like me, ufe me. 

Ant. Can you deceive him thus ? 

Borio. Nay, Antipho, 
'Tis he deceives me : he was well aware 
"What kind of man I was, but I believ'd 
Him diff'rent. He has difappointed me. 
But I am ftill the fame to him as ever. 
However, thus much I can do for him ; 
The Captain promis'd to pay down the money- 
To-morrow morning. But nov/, Phasdria, 
If you come lirfl, I'll follow my old rule, 
" The firft to pay, Ihall be firft ferv'd." Farewell. 

[^Exit, 



SCENE VI. 
PH^DRIA, ANTIPHO, GET A. 



Ph<ff. What Ihall I do ? Unhappy that I am* 
How fhall I, who am almoft worfe than nothing, 
Raife fuch a fum fo fuddenly ? — Alas ! 
Had I prevail'd on him to wait three days, 
I had a promife of it. 



Ant. 



250 P H O R M I O, 

jint. Shall we, Geta, 
Suffer my Phsdria to be miferable ? 
My beft friend Phsdria, who but now, you faid, 
Affifted me fo heartily ? — No. — Rather 
Let us, fmce there's need, return his kindnefs! 

Get. It is but jufb, I mull confefs. " 

Ant. Come then ; 
fTis you alone can fave him. 

Get. By what means ^. 

Ant. Procure the money. 

Get. Willingly : but whence ? 

Ant. My father is arriv'd. 

Get. He is : what then ? 

Ant. A word to the wife, Geta ! 

Get. Say you fo ? 

Ant. Ev'n fo. 

Get. By Hercules, 'tis rare advice. 
Are you there with me.'' will it not be triumph. 
So I but fcape a fcouring for your match. 
That you muft urge me to run rifks for him ? 

Ant. He fpeaks the truth, I mull confefs. 

Pha. How's that ^ 
Am I a llranger to you, Geta ? 

Get. No : 

Nor do I hold you fuch. But is it nothing. 

That Demipho now rages at us all, 

tJnlefs we irritate him fo much further. 

As to preclude all hopes to pacify him ? 

Pha. 



P H R M I O. 2£i 

Pha;, Shall then another bear her hence? Ah me! 
Now then, while I remain, fpeak to me, Antipho. 
Behold me ! 

Ant. Wherefore ? what is it you mean ? 

Ph^. Wherever Ihe's convey'd, I'll follow her ; 
Or perifli. 

Get. Heaven profper your defigns ! — 
Gently, Sir, gently ! 

Jnt. See, if you can help him. 

Get. Help him! but how? 

Ant. Nay, think, invent, devife; 
Left he do fornething we repent of, Geta ! 

Get. Fm thinking, [pauj^ng.] — Well then, I believe 
he's fafe. 
But I'm afraid of mifchief. 

Ant. Never fear : 
We'll bear all good and evil fortune with you. 

Get. Tell me the fum you have occafion for, 

Ph^. But thirty Minse. 

Get. Thirty ! monftrous, Pha^dria ! 
She's very dear. 

Ph^. Dog-cheap. 

Get. Well, fay no more. 
I'll get them for you. 

Pb^. O brave fellow ! 

Get. Hence ! 

Ph^. But I fhall want it now. 

Get. You'll have it now. 



252 P H O R M I O, 

But Phormio muft afTifl me in this bufinefs. 

Ant. He's ready : lay what load you will upon him, 
He'll bear it all ; for he's a friend indeed. 

Get. Let's to him quickly then ! * 

Ant. D'ye want my help ? 

Get. We've no occafion for you. Get you home 
To the poor girl, who's almoil dead with fear ; 
And fee you comfort her. — Away ! d'ye loiter? 

Ant. There's nothing I would do fo willingly. \^Exit, 

Ph^. But how will you effed this ? 

Cet. ril explain 
That matter as we go along. — Away ! [Exeunt. 

• Let^s to him quickly then /] " tell him to be at home." But 

After this in feme books is in- it confounds the fenfe in this 

ferted a fpeech of Phsedria ; Ahi place,andit is plain thatPhasdria 

^ic, preefo ut Jit domi. *' Go, and Getago out together. 



A C 1' 



P H O R M I O, 253 

ACT III. SCENE I. 

DEMIPHO and CHREMES. 

Dim. TX TELL, Chremes? have you brought your 

V V daughter with you. 
On whofe account you went to Lcmnos ? 

Chre," No. 

Dem. "Why not ? 

Chre. Her mother grown. It feems, impatient^ 
Perceiving that I tarried here fo long. 
And that the girl's age brook'd not my delays, 
Hadjournied here, they laid, in fearch of me. 
With her whole family. 

Dem. Appriz'd of this. 
What kept you there fo long then ? 

Chre. A difeafe. 

Dem. How came it ? what difeafe ? 

Chre . Is that a queftion ? 
Old age itfelf is a difeafe. — However, 
The mafter of the Ihip, who brought them over, 
Inform'd me of their fafe arrival hither. 

■^ BetTh 



254 P H O R M I O. 

Dem. Have you heard, Chremes, of my fon's mif- 
fortune 
During my abfence ? 

Chre. Ay ♦, and it confounds me. 
For to another lliould I tender her, 
i muft relate the girl's whole hiftory. 
And whence arifes my connexion with her. 
You I can truft as fafely as myfelf : 
But if a flranger courts alliance with me, 
While we're new friends, he'll hold his peace perhaps, 
But if he cools, he'll know too much of me. 
Then I'm afraid my wife Ihould know of this ; 
Which if fhe does, I've nothing elfe to do. 
But Ihake myfelf,* and leave my houfe di redly : 
For I've no friend at home, except myfelf. 

Dem. I know it-, and 'tis that which touches me. 
Nor are there any means I'll leave untried. 
Till I have made my promife to you good. 



• But Jhake myfelf, b'f.] Vt Hiook their cloaths at the doors 

tne excutiam. Alluding to the of the houfes, that they abaa- 

manners of the Greek and doned, Dacier. 
Eaftern naiioss, who always 



SCENE 



P H O R M I O. 25;? 

SCENE II. 

Enter, at another part of the Stage^ G E T A. 

Get. to him/elf.] I never faw a more fhrewd rogue 
than Phormio. 
I came to let him know we wanted money. 
With my device for getting it ; and fcarce 
Had I related half, but he conceiv'd me. 
He was o'erjoy'dj commended me; demanded 
To meet with Demipho; and thank'd the Gods, 
That it was now the time to fliew himfelf 
As truly Phsedria's friend, as Antipho's. 
I bad him wait us at the Forum-, whither 
I'd bring; th' old s:entleman. — And there he Is! 
—But who's the furthermoft? Ha! Pha^dria's father, 
— Yet what was I afraid of, Simpleton ? 
That I have got two dupes inftead of one ? 
Is it not better that my hopes are doubled ? 
—I'll attack him,, I firfl: propos'd. If He 
Anfwers my expectation, well : if not, 
Why then have at you. Uncle ! 

SCENE 



256 P H O K M I O, 

SCENE III. 
Enter behind A N T I P H O. 

Ant. to himfelf.'] I exped 
Geta's arrival prefently. — ^^But fee ! 
Yonder's my Uncle with my father. — Ah ! 
How do I dread his inflitence ! 

Get. I'll to them. 
Oh, good Sir Chremes ! [.g^^^g ^-f* 

Chre. Save you, fave you, Geta ! 

Get, I'm glad to fee you fafe arriv'd. 

Chre. I thank you. 

Get. How go affairs ? 

Chre. A world of changes here. 
As ufual ^t firft coming home again. 

Get. True. Have you heard of Antipho*s affair ?■ 

Chre. The whole. 

Get. to Demipho.] You told him, Sir?-— 'Tis mon- 
ftrous, Chremes, 
To be fo fliam.efuliy impos'd upon ! 

Dem. 'Twas on that point I was juft talking with 
him. 

Get. And I too, having turn'd it in my thoughts, 
Have found, I think, a remedy 

Dem. Hqw, Gcta ? -M 

What 



P H O R M I O. 2S7 

What remedy ? 

Get. On leaving yoUj by chance 
t met with Phormio. 

Chre. Who is Phormio ? 

Get. The girl's folliciton 

Cbre. I underftand. 

Get. I thought within myfelfj " fuppofe I found 
him !'* 
And taking him afide, " NoW prithee, Phormio, 
" Why don't you try to fettle this affair 
" By fair means rather than by foul?" faid I. 
" My mafter is a generous gentleman, 
" And hates to go to law^ For I alTure you, 
" His other friends advis'd him, to a man, 
" To turn this girl diredly out o'doors," 

jfint. behind.'] What does he mean ? or where will 
all this end ? 

Get. " The law, you think, will give you damages, 
" If he attempts to turn her out. — Alas, 
" He has had counfel upon that.— I'faith, 
" You'll have hot work, if you engage with Himj 
" He's fuch an Orator l*— But ev'n fuppofe 
" That you fhould gain your law-fuit, aker all 
*' The trial is not for his life, bvt mpney." 
Perceiving him a little wrought upon. 
And foften'd by this flile of talking with him, 
" Come now," continued I, " we're all alone. 

Vol. II, S ««- Teil 



258 P H O R M I O. 

" Tell mc, what money would you take in hand 
"■ To drop your law-fuit, take away the girl, 
" And trouble us no farther ?'* 

Ant. behind.'] Is he mad? 

Get. " For I am well convinced, that if your 

" terms 
" Are not extravagant and wild indeed, 
*' My mailer's fuch a worthy gentleman, 
" You will not change three words between you." 

Dem. Who 
Commiffion'd you to fay all this ? 

Chre. Nay, nay. 
Nothing could be more happy to efFed: 
The point we labour at. 

Ant. behind.'] Undone ! 

Chre. to Geta.] Go on. 

Get. At firft he rav'd. 

Dem. Why, what did he demand ? 

Get. Too much : as much as came into his head. • 

Chre. Well, but the fum ? 

Get. He talk'd of a Great Talent.* 

Bern. Plague on the ralcal! what! has he n« 
fhame ? 

Get. The very thing I faid to him. — " Suppofc 

* A Great Talent.] Talentum and fometimes an ^//jci 7<i/*«/; 

Magnum. Among the antient which all import the fame, 

writers we meet fometimes with when to be underllood of Gre- 

the wordTaknt fimply ; fome- cian money. Patrick. 

times it is called A Great Talent ; 

" He 



P H 6 R M I O. 25c^^ 

** He was to portion out an only daughter, 

" What could he give her more ? — He profits little, 

" Having no daughter of his own -, fince one 

" Is found, to carry off a fortune from him." 

— But to be brief, and not to dwell upon 

All his impertinencies, He at laft 

Gave me this final anfwer. — " From the firfl^ 

" I wifh'd, faid he, as was indeed mofl fit, 

" To wed the daughter of my friend myfelf : 

" For I was well aware of her misfortune ; 

" That, being poorj Ihe would be rather given 

** In flavcry, than wedlock, to the rich. 

" But I was forc'd, to tell you the plain truth, 

" To take a woman with fome little fortune, 

^' To pay my debts : and ftill, if Demipho 

" Be willing to advance fo large a fum, 

" As I'm to have with one I'm now engag'd to, 

" There is no wife I'd rather take than Her." 

^nt. behind.] Whether through malice, or ftupidity, 
He is rank knave or fool, I cannot tell. 

Demi to Geta.'] What, if he owes his foul ^ 

Get. " I have a farm," 
Continued he, " that's mortgag*d for Ten NtlncE." 

Bern. Well, let him take her then: Til pay the 
money 

Get. *' A houfe for ten more.** 

Dem. Huy ! huy ! that's too much* 

S 2 Gkn. 



26o P H O R M I O. 

Cbre. No noife ! demand thofe ten of me. 

Gei. " My wife 
" Muft buy a maid j fome little furniture 
^'^ Is alfo requifite ; and fome expence 
" To keep our wedding: all thefe articles,'* 
Continues he, " we'll reckon at Ten Minae.** 

Dem. No; let him bring ten thoufand writs 
againft me.* 
I'll give him nothing. What ! afford the villaia 
An opportunity to laugh at me? 

Chre. Nay, but be pacified ! I'll pay the money. 
Only do you prevail upon your fon 
To marry her, whom we defire. 

Ant. behind. ] Ah me ! 
Geta, your treachery has niin'd me. 

Cbre. She's put away on my account: *tis jufl 
That I fhould pay the money. 

Get. " Let me know," 
Continues he, " as foon as pofTible, 
*' Whether tiiey mean to have me marry her; 
" That I may part with t'other, and be certain. 

* Let him bring ten thoufand according to the difFerent genius 

KvritSf l^c.'\ Sexcentai fcribito of the two languages, renderf 

jam mihi dicas. Donatus ob- the /xvpia? of Apollodorus by 

ferves on this paiTage that Six fexcentas. I have in like man- 

Hundred v/zs ufed by the Ro- ner rendered they^A-ff«/«j of Te- 

mans for an indefinite number, rence by Ten Thoufand, as being 

as TV« 7>^ox</i2«</ was among the moft agreeable to the EngJifli 

Creeks; wherefore Terence, idiom, as well as the Greek. 

" For 



P H O R M I O. 261 

" For t'other girl's relations have agreed 
" To pay the portion down immediately.'* 

Chre. He Ihall be paid this too immediately. 
Let him break off with her, and take this girl ! 

Dcm. Ay, and the plague go with him ! 

Chre, Luckily 
It happens I've fome money here; the rents 
Of my wife's farms at Lemnos. I'll take that ; 

\to Demipho. 
And tell my wife, that you had need of it, [Exeunt. 



SCENE IV. 
Maneni A N T I P H O, G E T A, 

y^«/. coming forward.1 Get^ ! 

Get. Ha, Antipho ! 

Ant. What have you done ? 

Get. Tfick'd the old bubbles of their money. 

Jnt. Well, 
Is that fufficient, think ye ? 

Get. I can't tell. 
'Twas all my orders. 

Ant. Knave, d'ye Ihuffle with me ? [kicks him. 

Get. Plague ! what d'ye mean ? 

Ant. What do I mean, Hrrah ! 

, S 3 You've 



262 P H O R M I O. 

YouVe driven me to abfolute perdition. 

All pow'rs of heav'n and hell confound you for't. 

And make you an example to all villains ! 

—Here! would you have your bufmefs duly manag'd^ 

Commit it to this fellow!* What could be 

More tender than to touch upon this fore, 
Or even name my wife ? My father's filled 
With hopes that Ihc may be difmifs'd.— And then 
If Phormio gets the money for the portion. 
He to be fure muft marry her. — And what 
Becomes of Me then ? 
Get. He'll not marry her. 

Ant. Oh, no: but when they re-demand the money^ 
On my account he'll rather go to jail! {ironically. 

Get. Many a tale is fpoilt in telling, Antipho. 
You take out all the good, and leave the bad. 
> — Now hear the other fide. — If he receives 
The money, he muft wed the girl; I grant it. 
But then fome little time muft be allow'd 
For wedding-preparation, invitation, 
And facrifices. — Meanwhile, Phsedria's friends 
Advance the money they have promis'd him : 
Which Phormio fhall make ufe of for repayment. 
Ant. How fo ^. what reafon can he give ? 

* Conpnit it to this fellonu.'] qui ie ad fcopulum e iranquillo 

lluic mandes quod quidetn reile inferat. — But the moll judicious 

curatum 'velis. In ronie editions Criticks have rejeded it as 

and manufcripts we read, in- fpurious. Patrick. 
ftead of this verle, Huic mandes, 

Gei, 



P H O R M I O. 2^3 

Get. What reafon ? 
A thoufand. — " Since I made this fatal bargain, 
" Omens and prodigies have happen'd to me. 
" There came a flrange black dog into my houfe ! 
" A fnake fell through the tiling-! a hen crow'd! 
" The Soothfayer forbad it ! The Diviner 
'^ Charg'd me to enter on no new affair 
" Before the winter,"— All fufficient reafons. 
Thus it fhall be, 

j^nL Pray heav'n, it may ! 

Gef. It fhall. 
Depend on me: — But here's your father. — Go ; 
Tell Phaedria that the money's fafe. [Exit Antipho. 



SCENE V. 

Re-enler DEMIPHO and CHREMES, 

Dem. Nay, peace! 
ril warrant he fhall play no tricks upon us: 
I'll not part rafhly with it, I alTure you ; 
But pay it before witnelTes, reciting 
To whom 'tis paid, and why 'tis paid. 

Get. How cautious. 
Where there is no occafion t [a/Idg. 

Chre. You had need. 

S 4 But 



Z64 P H O R M I O. 

But haflc, djfpatch it while the fit's upon him :■ 
For if the other party fhould be prefiing, 
Perhaps he'll break with us. 

Qet. You've hit it, Sir. 

JDem. Carry me to him then. 

Get. I wait your pleafure. 

Chre, to Dem.] When this is done, ftep over to my 
wife, 
That flie may fee the girl before Ihe goes ; 
And tell her, to prevent her being angry, 
" That we've agreed to marry her to Phorniio, 
" Her old acquaintance, and a fitter match ; 
*' That we have not been wanting in our duty, 
*' But giv'n as large a portion as he afk'd," 

Dem. Pfhaw ! what's all this to you ^ 

Chre. A great deal, Brother. 

Dem, Is't not fufficient to have done your duty, 
Uniefs the world approves it ? 

Chre. I would chufc 
To have the whole thing done by her confent : 
Left fhe pretend we turn'd her out o'doors. 

Dem. Well, I can fay all this to her myfelf. 

Cbre. A woman deals much better with a woman. 

Dem. I'll afk your wife to do it then. 

\_Exeunt Demipho and Geta. 



Cbre. 



P H O R M I a 26$ 

Chre. I'm thinking,* 
Where I fliall find thefe women now. 



SCENE VI. 
Enter SOPHRONA<?/« dijhnce. 

Soph, to herfelf,'] Aias ! 
"What fhall I do, unhappy as I am ? 
Where find a friend? to whom difclofe this ftory ? 
Of whom befeech afliftance ? — For I fear 
My miftrefs will fuftain fome injury 
From following my counfel: the youth's father, 
I hear, is fo offended at this marriage. 

Chre. Who's this old woman, coming from my 
brother's. 
Seeming fo terrified ? 

Soph, to herfelf.'] 'Twas poverty 
Compell'd me to this adion : tho' I knew 
This match would hardly hold together long. 
Yet I advis'd her to it, that meanwhile 
She might not want fubfiftence. 

* Pm thinking nvhere I Jhall The fcene itfelf is admirable, 

find, l£c.'\ This is intended and is in many places both af- 

as a tranfition to the nextfcene; fefting and cornicle, and the 

but I think it would have been difcovery of the real charader 

better if it had followed with- of Phanium is made at a very 

out this kind of introdudion. proper time. 

Chre, 



i66 P H O R M I O. 

Chre. Surely, lurely. 
Either my mind deceives me, or eyes fail me. 
Or that's my daughter's nurfe.* 

Sopb. Nor can we find 

Cbre. What fhall I do ? 

Soph. — Her father out. 

Cbre. Were't beft 
I fliould go up to her, or wait a little. 
To gather fomething more from her difcourfe ? 

Sopb, Could be be found, my fears were at an end.. 

Cbre. 'Tis fhe. I'll fpeak with her. 

Sopb. overbearing.'] Whofe voice is that ? 

Cbre. Sophrona ! 

Sopb. Ha ! my name too ? 

Cbre. Look this way. 

Sopb. turning.'] Good heav'n have mercy on us ! Stilpho! 

Cbre. No. 

Sopb. Deny your own name ? 

Cbre. in a low voice.] This way, Sophrona ! — 
— A little further from that door! — this way ! — 
And never call me by that name, I charge you. 

Soph. What! ar'n't you then the man you faid yov* 
were .? \aloud. 

Cbre. Hift! hill! 

• My daughter's nurfe.] A- them; which is the reafon that 

mong the antients the Nurfes, in their plays Nurfes are moft 

after having brought up children generally chofen for confidantes, 

of their own fex, never quitted Rovsseau's Emile. 

^Qph. 



P H O R M I O. 267 

Soph. What makes you fear thofe doors fo much ? 

Chre. I have a fury of a wife within : 
And formerly I went by that falfe name. 
Left ye fhould indifcreetly blab it out. 
And fo my wife might come to hear of this. 

Soph. Ah ! thus it was, that we, alas, poor fouls. 
Could never find you out here. 

Chre. Well, but tell me. 
What bufinefs have you with that family .? [pointing, 
-—Where is your miftrefs and her daughter ? 

Soph. Ah ! 

Chre. What now ? are they alive ? 

Soph. The daughter is : 
The mother broke her heart with grief. ' 

Chre. Alas ! 

Soph. And I, a poor, unknown, diftrefs'd old woman^ 
Endeavouring to manage for the beft, 
Contriv'd to match the virgin to a youth, 
Son to the mafter of this houfe. 

Chre. To Antipho ? 

Soph. The very fame. 

Ch-e. What ! has he two wives then ? 

Soph. No, mercy on us ! he has none but her, 

Chre. What is the other then, who, they pretend, 
Is a relation to him ? 

Soph. This is fhe. 

Chre. How fay you ? 

Soph» 






268 P H O R M J O. 

Soph. It was all a mere contrivance ; 
That he, who was in love, might marry her 
Without a portion. 

Chre. O ye pow'rs of heaven, 
How often fortune blindly brings about 
More than we dare to hope for ! Coming home, 
IVe found my daughter, even to my wilh, 
Match'd to the very perfon I deOr'd. 
What we have both been labouring to effeft. 
Has this poor woman all alone accomplifh'd. 

Soph. But nov/ confider what is to be done ! 
The bridegroom's father is return'd : and He, 
They fay, is much offended at this marriage. 

Chrei. Be of good comfort : there's no danger there. 
But, in the name of heav'n and earth, I charge you. 
Let nobody difcover Ihe's my daughter. 

Soph. None fhall difcover it from me. 

Chre. Come then ! 
Follow me in, and you fhall hear the reft. [ExeuffL 



A C T 



P H O R M I O. 



269 



^.^^^►4,+4,^^hJ.^4.^^^^^^^^'*«J'*^*4***J'^4**4^**^^***** 



C T IV. S C E N E I. 



DEMIPHO, GET A. 



Dem. > " B ' ' I S our own fault, that we encourage 

X rogues. 

By ovcr-ilraining the due charader 
Of honefty and generofity. 

* " Shoot not beyond the mark," the proverb goes, 
Was*t not enough that he had dofie us wrong, 
But we muft alfo throw him money too. 
To live till he devifes fome new mifchief ? 

Get. Very right ! 

Dem. Knavery's now its own reward, 

Cei. Very true ! 



• Sioot not heyond the mark.'\ 
Ita fugias ne prater cafam. Li- 
terally, " Fly fo, as not to 
•' pafs the houfe." Commenta- 
tors have been pleafed to confi- 
der this as the moil difficult 
pafTage in any part of our Au- 
thor's works. But theoccafion 
on which the proverb is here 
ufed, and the whole tenor of 
Deraipho's rpeech,make the im- 



port of it Impoflible to be mif- 
taken : Donatus long ago prO" 
perly explained it, ^eritur ft-' 
nex fi, dum avari infamiamfn- 
geret, in Jiulti reprehcnjlonem in- 
cidijje. — •* The old man com- 
** plains, that while he was en- 
*' deavouringtoavoidthecharge 
" of being a mifer, he had laid 
*' himfelf open to the imputa- 
** tion of being a fool," 

Dem, 



270 P H O R M I O; 

Dem. How like fools have we behav'd ! 

Get. So as he keeps his word, and takes the girl^ 
*Tis well enough. 

Dem. Is that a doubt at prefent ? 

Get, A man, you know, may change his mind.- 

Dem. How I change ? 

Get. That I can't tell : but, if perhaps, I fay. 

Dem. I'll how perform my promife to my brother,- 
And bring his wife to talk to the young woman. 
You, Geta, go before, and let her knOw 
Naufiftrata will come and fpeak with her. 

[Exit Demipho^ 

SCENE It. 

GETA alone. 

The money's got for Phasdria: all ishufh'd: 
And Phanium is not to depart as yet. 
What more then? where will all this end at laft ? 
— Alas, you're flicking in the fame mire ftill : 
You've only chang'd hands, Geta.* The difafter^ 
That hung but now diredly over you. 
Delay perhaps will bring more heavy on you. 
-f You're quite befet, unlefs you look about. 

* Tou^'ve only chang'd hands, f Toii're quite befet."] Plague 

Geta.} Verfurdfol'vere, to change crefauit. Plague is generally un- 
one creditor for another. Do- derllood here to fignify bloius : 
NATU8, but as Geta is full of metaphors 

in 



P H O R M I O. 



iji 



— Now then I'll home, to lefTon Phanium -, 

That Ihe mayn't ftand iii fear of Phormio, 

Nor dread this conference with Naufiftrata,* [Exit. 

SCENE III. 
DEMIPHO W NAUSISTRATA. 

Bern. Come then, Naufiftrata) afford us now 
A little of your ufual art, and try 
To put this woman in good humour with us : 
That what is done flie may do willingly. 

Nau. I will. 

Dem. — And now alTift us with your counfel, 
As with your calh a little while ago.f 

Nau. With all my heart: and I am only forry 
That 'tis my hufband's fault I can't do more. 

Dem. How fo ? 

Nau. Becaufe he takes fuch little care 



in this fpeeeh, I am apt to 
think the words mean, '* the 
" fnares increafe," which agrees 
better with the following claufe, 
niji frofpicis, and is a fenfe in 
which the plural of plaga is 
•ften ufed. 

* Conference 'withNauftJlrata.'\ 
Ejus orationem. Ejus here is 
not to be uoderftood of Phormio, 



but Naufiftrata : and perhaps 
Terence wrote hujus. D a c i e r . 

•f- As nvith your cajh^ l^c.^ 
Alluding to the money borrow- 
ed of her to pay Phormio ; and, 
as Donatus obferves in another 
place, it is admirably contrived, 
in order to bring about a hu- 
mourous cataftrophe, thatChre- 
mes Ihouldmake ufe of his wife's 
money on this occafion. 

Of 



t^t P H O It M i 0. 

of the eflate my father nufs'd fo well : 
For from thefe very farms he never fail*d 
To draw Two Talents by the year. But ah ! 
What difference between man and man ! 

Dem, Two Talents ? 

Nau. Ay — in worfe times than thefe — and yet Two 
Talents. 

J) em. Huy ! 

Nau. What, are yoii furpriz'd ? 

Dem. Prodigioufiyi 

Nau. Would I had been a man ! I'd Ihew 

Bern. No doubt. 

Nau. — By what means ' 

Bern. Nay, but fpare yourfelf a littk: 
For the encounter with the girl : left flie^ 
Flippant and young, may weary you too muchi 

Nau. — Well, I'll obey your orders : but I fee 
My hufband coming forth* 

S C E N E IV. 
Enter CHREMES hajlily, 

Chre. Ha ! Demipho ! 
Has Phormio had the money yet ? 

Dem. I paid him 
Immediately. \ 

Chre. - 



P H O R M I O. 273 

Chre. I'm lorry for't. — [feeing Naufiftrata.] — My 
wife ! 
I'd almoft faid too much. {^ajide. 

Den. Why forry, Chremes ? 

Chre. Nothino;. — No matter. 

Dcm. Well, but hark ye, Chremes. 
Have you been talking with the girl, and told her 
Wherefore we bring your wife ? 

Chre. I've fettled it. 

De',n. Well, and what fays Ihe ? 

Chre. 'Tis impolTible 
To fend her hence. 

Bern. And why impofTible ? 

Chre. Eecaufe they're both fo fond of one another, 

Bern. What's that to Us ? 

Chre. A great deal. And befides, 
I have difcover'd fhe's related to us. 

Bern, Have you your wits ? 

Chre. 'Tis fo. I'm very ferious. 
Nay, recoiled a little ! 

Bern. Are you mad ? 

Nau. Good now, beware of wrono-ing; a relation ! 

Bern. She's no relation to us. 

Chre. Don't deny it. 
Her father had affum'd another name. 
And that deceiv'd you. 

Bern. W^hat ! not know her father ? 

Chre. Perfectly. 

Vol. II. T Bern. 



274 P H O R M I O. 

Dem. Why did ihe mifname him then ? 
Chre. Won't you be rul'd, nor underlland me then? 
Bern. What can I underftand from nothing ? 
Chre. Still? [impatiently, 

Nau. I can't imagine what this means. 
Bern. Nor I. 

Chre. Woii'd you know all? — Why then, fo help 
me heaven, 
She has no nearer kindred in the world. 
Than you and I. 

Dem. Oh, all ye pow'rs of heaven ! 
— Let us go to her then immediately : 
J wou'd fain know, or not know, all at once. 

[going. 
Chre. Ah! [flopping him, 

Bern. What's the matter ? 
Chre. Can't you truft me then ? 
Bern. Muft I believe it? take it upon truft? 
—Well, be itfo!— But what is to be done 
With our friend's daughter ? 
Chre. Nothing. 
Bern. Drop her ? 
Chi-e. Ay. 

Bern. And keep this ? 
Chre. Ay. 

Bern. Why then, Naufiftrata, 
You may return. We need not trouble you. 

T Nau. \ 



P PI O R M I O. 275 

Nan. Indeed, I think, 'tis better on all fides, 
That you lliould keep her here, than fend her hence. 
For (he appear'd to mc, when firft I faw her, 
Much of a gentlewoman. [^Exit Naufiflrata.* 



SCENE V. 
Manent DEMIPHO and CHREMES. 

Dem. "What means this ? 

Chre. looking after Naujijlrata.'] Is the door fhut ^ 

Dem. It is. 

Chre. O Jupiter ! 
The Gods take care of us. I've found my daughter 
Married to your fon. 

Dem. Ha ! how could it be ? 

Chre. It is not fafe to tell you here. 

Dem. Step in then. 

Chre. But hark ye, Demipho ! 1 would not 

have 
Even our very fons inform'd of this. \_Exeunt. 



* ExitNaujyirata.'] The perplexed fituation of the charaders 
in the above fcene is truly comick. 



T 2 SCENE 



^7^ P li O R M I O. 

SCENE VI. 

A N T I P H O alcne, 

I'm glad, however my affairs proceed, . 
That Phaedria's have fucceeded to his mind. 
How wife, to fofter fiich defires alone^ 
As, altho' crols'd, are eafily fupplied! 
Money, once found, fets Phfedria at his eafe 'y 
But my diftrefs admits no remedy. 
For, if the fecret's kept, I live in fear ^ 
And if reveal'd, I am expos'd to fhame. 
Nor would I now return, but in the hope 
Of ftill poffeiTrng her. — But where is Geta ? 
That I may learn of him, the fitteft tim€ 
To meet my father, 

SCENE VII. 
Enter at a diftancs P H O R M I O. 

"Phor. to himfelf.'] IVe receiv'd the money ; 
Paid the Procurer 5 carried off the wench; 
"Who's free, and now in Phsedria's poffelTion. 
One thing alone remains to be difpatch'd ; 
To get a refpite from th* pld gentlemen 



To 



P H O R M I O. 27; 

To tipple fome few days, which I muft fpend 
In mirth and jollity. 

Ant. But yonder's Phormio. — ^^ [goes up. 

Wljat now ? 

Phor. Of what ? 

Ant. What's Ph^dria about ? 
How does he mean to take his fill of love ? 

Phor. By ailing your part in his turn. 

Ant. What part ? 

Phor. Flying his father's prefence. — And he begs 
That you'd a6t his, and make excufes for him : 
For he intends a drinking-bout with Me. 
I ihall pretend to the old gentlemen 
That I am going to the fair at Sunium, 
To buy the fervant-maid, that Geta menfion'd : 
Left, finding I am abfent, they fufpedt 
That I am f<:|uandering the fum they paid me. 
— But your door opens. 

Ant. Who comes here ? 

phor. 'Tis Geta. 



T 3 S C E N K 



278 P H O R M I O. 

SCENE VIII. 

Enter hajlily^ at another part of the Stage, G E T A, 

Get. O Fortune, O befl Fortune * what high 
blelTings, 
What fudden, great, and nnexpeded joys 
Haft thou Ihow'r'ddown on Antipho to-day! — 

Ant. What can this be, he's fo rejoic'd about ! 

Get. • And from what fears delivered Us, his 

friends ? 
—But wherefore do I loiter thus ? and why 
Do I not throw my cloak upon my fhoulder. 
And hafte to find him out, that he may know 
All that has happen'd ? 

Ant. to Phormio.] Do you comprehend 
What he is talking of? 

Fhor. Do you ? 

Jnt. Not I. 

Fhor. I'm juft as wife as you. 

Get. I'll hurry hence 
To the Procurer's.— I Ihall find them there, [gomg. 

Ant. Ho, Geta! 

* O Fortune, O heji Fortune, Good Fortune., and there was 

l£c.'\ O Fortuna / O Fors For- a Temple to this Goddefs near 

tuna! F crtuna (i^mfied. fimply the Tiber. Donatus. 
chance; h\xX.Fors Fortuna meant 

Get. 



P H O R M I O. 279 

Get. Look ye there ! — Is't new or ftrange. 
To be recall'd when one's in hafte ? [S^^^Z' 

Ant. Here, Geta ! 

Get. Again ? Bawl on ! I'll ne'er flop, \_going on. 

Ant. Stay, I fay ! 

Get. Go, and be drubb'd ! 

Ant. Tcu fhall, I promife you, 
tJnlefs you Hop, you Rafcal ! 

Get. flopping.'] Hold, hold, Geta 
Some intimate acquaintance this, be fure. 
Being fo free with you. — But is it he. 
That I am looking for, or not.^ — 'Tis He. 

Phor. Go up immediately. [they go up to Geta. 

Ant. to Geta.] "What means all this ? 

Get. O happy man ! the happiell man on earth ! 
So very happy, that, beyond all doubt. 
You are the Gods' chief fav'rite, Antipho. 

Ant. Wou'd I were ! but your reafon. 

Get. Is't enough. 
To plunge you over head and ears in joy ? 

Ant. You torture me. 

Phor. No promifes ! but tell us. 
What are your news .'' 

Get. Oh, Phormio ! are you here ? 

,Phcr. lam: but- why d'ye trifle ? 

Get. Mind me then ! [to Phormio. 

No fooner had we paid you at the Forum, 

But we return'd diredly home again. 

T 4 " — Ar*. 



28o P H O R M I O. 

— Arriv'd, my malter fends me to your wife. 

[to Antipho, 
j^ni. For what ? 

GeL No matter now, good Antipho. 
I was j Lift entering the women's lodging,* 
When up runs little Mida; catches me 
Hold by the cloak behind, and pulls me back. 
I turn about, and afk why he detains me. 
He told me, " Nobody muft fee his miftrefs : 
" For Sophrona, fays he, hasjuft now brought 
" Demipho's brother, Chremes, here-, and He 
" Is talking with the women now within." 
--When I heard this, I ftole immediately 
On tip-toe tow'rds the door^ came clofe; ftood hufhj 
Drew in my breath j applied my ear-, and thus, 
Deep in attention, catch'd their whole difcourfe, 

y^ni. Excellent, Geta! 

GeL Here I overheard 
The pleafanteft adventure! — On my life, 
I fcarce refrain'd from crying out for joy, 

Jnt. What.? 

C^t. What d'ye think.? [laughing. 

Ant. I can't tell. 

Get. Oh ! it was [laughing. 

Moft wcnderful! — moft exquifite! — your uncle 

* The vjcmeTt's lodging.'] Gyrng' ceum was an interior part of 
{ftfw ; from the Greek yvi-aiKe/n/, the houfe appropriated to the 
«.«a,xa underllood. The Gyns- women. Westerhovius. 

5 ' I^ 



P H O R M I O. 281 

Is found to be the father of your wife. 

Ant. How! what? 

Get. He had a fly intrigue, it feems. 
With Phanium's mother formerly at Lemnos. 

{laugh ifig^ 

Pbcr. Nonfenfe! as if flie did not know her father? 

Get. Nay, there's fome reafon for it, Phormio, 
You may be fure.— But was it polllble 
For me, who flood without, to comprehend 
Each minute circumftance that pafl within ? 

Ant. I have heard fomething of this ilory too.* 

Get. Then, Sir, to fettle your belief the more. 
At laft comes forth your uncle ; and foon after 
Returns again, and carries in your father. 
Then they both faid, they gave their full confent, 
That you fnould keep your Phanium. — In a word, 
Pm fent to find you out, and bring you to them. 
Ant. Away v/ith me then inflantly! D'ye linger Pf 

* Antipho. I ha^e heard that learned Critick tells us 

fomething, dffc] In all the edi- it is attributed to Antipho in a 

tions which I have feen, Bent- copy at Cambridge. I am fure 

ley's excepted, this fpeech is it is very improper for Phormio, 

put into Phormio's mouth : but who had jult before faid, 

Nonfenfe ! as if fie did not kno^M her father ! CoOKE. 

f A^ay 'with me inftantly ! ried ofF in triumph. This was 

d^ye linger /*] ^tn ergo rape me. a fort of ftage-trick, and was 

Ceffas ? Antipho is fo rejoiced extremely diverting to the audi- 

at Geta's news, that he jumps cnce. Dacier. 
upon his Ihouldcrs, and is car- 

Ibe- 



282 



P H O R M I O. 



Get. Not I. Away ! 

Ant. My Phormio, fare you well! 

Plor. Fare you well, Antipho. 



[Exeunt. 



SCENE IX. 
PHORMIO alone. 

"Well done, 'fore heaven ! 
*rm overjoy'd to fee fo much good fortune 
Fallen thus unexpectedly upon them : 
I've now an admirable opportunity 
To bubble the old gentlemen, and eafe 
Phsedria of all his cares about the money ; 
So that he need not be oblig'd to friends. 
For this fame money, tho' it will be given. 



I believe Madam Dacier has 
not the leaft foundation for this 
extraordinary piece of informa- 
tion ; and I mufl confefs that 
I have too high an opinion both 
of the Roman Audience and 
Adors, to believe it to be 
true. 

* Pm overjoy'd, ^r.] GaudeOy 
i^c. Pro gaudeo Guyetus Plau- 
dite : & fcenas fequentes fpu- 
rias efie pronuntiat ; neminem- 
que, Jiquidem fanus futrit, a fe 



dilTenfurum putat. Credafne 
hunc hominem fanae turn mentis 
fuifle, cum hasc efFutiret r certe 
ad Anticyras relegandus turn 
erat; non nunc argumentis re- 
futandus. Nihil in toto Te- 
rentio fequentibus fcenis pul- 
chrius,venuflius, urbanius, mo- 
ratius : fine quibus reliqua fa- 
bula, qua; nulli ccdit, ex ful- 
gore in fumum exiret. 

Bentley. 
See the laft note to the fifth 

aa. 

Will 



P H O R M I O. 283 

Will yet come from them much againfl the grain ; 
But I have found a way to force them to't. 
—Now then I mull aflume a grander air. 
And put another face upon this bufmefs. 
— I'll hence awhile into the next bye-alley. 
And pop upon them as they're coming forth. 
—As for the trip I talk'd of to the Fair, 
I Iha'n't pretend to take that journey now. [ExiL 



ACT 



■H 



P H O R M I O. 



ACT v.* SCENE I. 

Enter DEMIPHO and CHREMES— and foon 
after^ on t'other ftde, P H O R M I O. 



D^»?."T T TELL may we thank the gracious Gods,, 

V V good brother. 

That all things have fucceeded to our willi. 
— But now let's find out Phormio with all fpeed. 



* J3 v.] I have divided 
what is commonly received as 
the fifth aft into two, nor is 
there any other way of remov- 
ing the flagrant abfurdity in the 
old diviiion of this play, ex- 
cept doing the fame thing by 
the firft adl, which is the me- 
thod followed by Echard, who 
in his tranflation concludes the 
firft aft with the parting of Da- 
vus and Geta ; and it muft not 
be diffembled, that Donatus 
lays out the play in the fame 
manner. But in a Comedy fo 
full of aftion (tota Tnctoria, as 
Donatus calls it) it is furely 
needlefs to make the firft aft 
confift entirely of narration, like 
the meagre Step- Mother. Jn 



the divifion here obferved, I 
have endeavoured to affign a 
particular portion of the bufi- 
nefs of the play to each aft. The 
firft contains the previous cir- 
cumftances related by Geta,and 
the return of Demipho. The 
fecond contains the conference 
of Phormio and Demipho, the 
confultation of the lawyers, and 
the altercation between Dorio 
and Phjedria. In the third, as 
it ought, thefituation of affairs 
becomes more critical: Chre- 
mes returns; we find that the 
old gentlemen had particular 
reafons to be uneafy at the mar- 
riage of Antipho ; this natural- 
ly paves the way for their being 
bubbkd by Phormio and Geta j 
and 



P H O R M I O. 



Before he throws away our Thirty Minas. 

P her. pretending not to fee them.'] 
ril go and fee if Demipho's at home, 
That I may 

Dem, meeting him.] — We were coming to you, 
Phormio. 

Phor. On the old fcore, I warrant. 

Dem. Ay. 

Phor. I thought fo. 
— Why Iliould you go to Me ? — Ridiculous I 
Were you afraid I'd break my contraft with you ? 
No, no ! how great foe'er my poverty, 
IVe always Ihewn myfelf a man of honour. 

Chre. Has not fhe, as I faid, a liberal air ?* 

Dem. She has. 

and the aft clofes with the dif- 
covery of Phanium byChremes. 
The fourth aft communicates 
that difcovery, in a very plea- 
fant manner, to Demipho, and 



}'■ 



ipart. 



val between that aft and the 
fifth. 



* Bas not Jhe, as I faid, a li- 
beral air ?'\ One cannot con- 
by another way, equally enter- ceive any thing more happy or 
taining, to Geta, Phormio, &c. juft than thefe words of Chre- 



The fifth contains the endea- 
vour of the old men to recover 
their money, which effort very 
naturally produces the cataflro- 
phe, that betrays the whole fe- 
cret to all the parties interell- 
ed in the event. I hope it is 
needlefs to obferve, that Phor- 
mio's retiring in order to wait 
for the coming forth of the old 
men, leaves the ftage vacant. 



mes. Demipho's thoughts are 
wholly taken up how to recover 
the money, ar^d Phormio is e- 
qually follicitous to retain it ; 
but Chremes, who had juft left 
his daughter, is regardlefs of 
their diicourfe, and, frefli from 
the impreffions which fhe had 
made on him, longs to know if 
his Brother's fentiments of her 
were equally favourable, and 



where I have ended the fourth naturaliyputs this paternalqucf- 
aft, and forms a proper inter- tion to him. Patrick. 



I'Lcr. 



2^6 P H O R M I O. 

Pbor. — And therefore I was coming, Demipho, 
To let you know, I'm ready to receive 
My wife whene'er you pleafe. For I poftpon'd 
All other bufinefs, as indeed I ought. 
Soon as I found ye were fo bent on this. 

Dem. Ay, but my brother has dilTuaded me 
From going any further in this bufmefs. 
" For how will people talk of it ?" fays he : 
" At firft you might have done it handfomely.; 
" But then you'd not confent to it ; and now 
" After cohabitation with your fon, 
" To think of a divorce, is infamous.'* 
— In fhort, he urg'd almoft the very things. 
That you fo lately charg'd me with yourfelf. 

Phor. You trifle with me, Gentlemen. 

Dem. How fo ? 

Pbor. How fo ? — Becaufe I cannot marry t'other, 
With whom I told you I was firft in treaty. 
For with what face can I return to Her, 
Whom I have held in fuch contempt ? 

Cbre. Tell him, 
Antipho does not care to part with her. 

[prompting Demipho. 

Dem. And my fon too don't care to part with her : 
— Step to the Forum then, and give an order * 

* Gli't an order for the repay- perfcrihere, were tec])nical terms 
7ne>!t, 55V.] Argentu7n jube rur- in ufe among merchants and 
fum refcribi. Scribere, refcribere, bankers : fcribere is, to borrow 

money ; 



P H O R M I O. 287 

For the repayment of our money, Phormio. 

Phor. What ! when Fve paid it to my creditors ? 

Bern. What's to be done then ? 

Phor. Give me but the wife. 
To whom you have betroth'd me, and V\\ wed her. 
But if you'd rather fhe fhou'd flay with you. 
The portion flays with Me, good Demipho. 
For 'tis not jufl, I fhould be bubbled by you -, 
When, to retrieve your honour, Fve refus'd 
Another woman with an equal fortune. 

Dem. A plague upon your idle vapouring. 
You vagabond! — D'ye fancy we don't know you ? 
You, and your fine proceedings ? 

Phor. You provoke me. 

Bern. Why, would you marry her, if proifer'd ? 

Phor. Try me. 

Dem. What ! that my fon may keep her privately 
At your houfe .? — That was your intention. 

Phor, Ha! 
What fay you, Sir ? 

Dem. Give me my money, firrah ! 

Phor. Give me my wife, I fay. 

Dem. To juftice with him ! 

Phor. To juflice ? Now, by heaven, Gentlemen, 

money; refcribere, to repay it; as they are TiOw with us, by 

per/cribere, X.0 Qm-^\oy h on yOMx Draughts, Bills of Exchange, 

own occafions. And all thofe &c. Dacier. 
dealings were carried on theq. 



288 P H O R M I O. 

If you continue to be troublefome — 

Dem. What will you do ? 

Phor. What will I do ? Perhaps, 
You think that I can only patronize 
Girls without portion i but be fure of this, 
IVe fome with portions too.* 

Chre. What's that to Us ? 

Phor. Nothing. — I know a lady here, whofc huf- 
band — [carekfsiy. 

Chre. Ha! 

Dem. What's the matter ? 

Phor. — Had another wife 
At Lemnos. 

Chre. qftde.'] I'm a dead man. 

Phor. — By which other 
He had a daughter -, whom he now brings up 
In private. 

Chre. afide.'] Dead and buried ! 

Phor. This I'll tell her. [going towards the houfe* 

Chre. Don't, I befeech you ! 

* V'ue fome iMith portions too.'\ obfcurely in this place, becaufe 
Etiam dotatis/oleo. Donatus ex. the old men were not yet aware 
plains thefe words, as alluding of the intelligence he had re- 
to Nauliftrata ; others fuppofe ceived on that head, tho' every 
that Phormio confines his fubfequent fpeech leads gradu- 
thoughts to no particular in- ally to an explanation, tends 
ftance ; but I think it is plain to create an open rupture be- 
from the fequel, as well as the tween him and the old gentle- 
general tenor of the fcene, that men, and brings on the final 
Phormio ftill keeps Phaniumin difco/ery to Naufillra.ta. 



his eye ; and expreffes himfelf 



Phor, 



P H O R M f O. ^^ 

Phor. Oh ! are you the man ? 

Dem. Death ! how infulting ! 

Cbre. to Phormio.'] We difcharge you. 

Phor, Nonfenfe ! 

Chre. What wou'd you more ? The money you 
have got. 
We will forgive you. 

Phor. Well: I hear you now. 
—But what a plague d'ye mean by fooling thui. 
Acting and talking like mere children with me ? 
*' — I won't; I will: — I will; I won't again :" — 
Give, take ; fay, unfay : do, and then undo ? 

Ch7'e. to Demipbo.'] Which way cou'd he hav* 
iearnt this ? 

Dem. I don't know : 
But I am fure I never mention'd it. 

Chrf. Good now ! amazing 1 

Pbor. I have ruffled them. [ajtde, 

Dem. What ! fhall he carry off fo large a fum,* 
And laugh at us fo openly? — By heaven, 
I'd rather die.— Be of good courage, brother ! 

• What ! Jhall he carry off, her ears: But Demipho can- 

y^.] The different charadlers not brook the thoughts of lo- 

of the two brothers are ad- fing fo much money, and en- 

mirably preferved throughout courages his brother to behava 

this fcene. Chremes ftands with fpirit and refolution, pro- 

greatly in awe of his wife, and mifing to make up matters be- 

will fubmittoany thing, rather tween him and his wife. Pa- 

than the ftory ftiould come to trick. 

Vol. II. U Pluck 



igty P H O R M I O. 

Pluck up the fpirit of a man ! You fee 

This flip of your*s is got abroad; nor can you 

Keep it a fecret from your wife. Now therefore 

'Tis more conducive to your peace, good Chremcs, 

That we {hould fairly tell it her ourfelves. 

Than fhe fliould hear the ftory from another. 

And then we fhall be quite at liberty 

To take our own revenge upon this rafcal. 

Fbor. Ha !— If I don't take care, Pm ruin*d ftilL 
They're growing defperate, and * making tow'rds mCg 
With a determin'd gladiatorial air. 

Ch-e. to Demipho.'] I fear, ihe'll ne'er forgive mc. 

Dem. Courage, Chremes ! 
Pll reconcile her to't ; elpecially 
The mother being dead and gone. 

Phor. Is this 
Your dealing. Gentlemen ? You come upon mc 
Extremely cunningly. — But, Demipho, 
You have but ill confulted for your brother. 
To urge me to extremities.— And you. Sir, 

[to Chremes. 
When you have play'd the whore-mafter abroad j 
Having no reverence for your lady here, 
A woman of condition ; wronging heu 
After the groffeft manner i come you now 

* Thefngrovjing defperate, y^.] HI gladiatori9 animo ad mi 
mfsilant 'viam. Alluding tQ the Gladiators. 

To 



P H O R M I O. 291 

To wafh away your crimes with mean fubmiflion ? 

No. — I will kindle fuch a flame in her. 

As, tho' you melt to tears, you IhaVc extinguilK. 

Bern. A plague upon him ! was there ever man 
So very impudent ?— A knave ! he ought 
To be tranfported at the publick charge 
Into fome defert. 

Chre. I am fo confounded, 
I know not what to do with him. 

Dem. I know. 
Bring him before a judge ! 

Phor. Before a judge ? 
A L<7^-judge; inhere, Sirs, ifyoupleafe. 

Dem. * Run you, and hold him, while I call the 
fervants. 

Chre. I cannot by myfelf: come up, and help me, 

Phor. I have an a<5bion of aflault againft you. 

[to Demipho. 

Chre. Bring it ! 

Phor. Another againft you too, Chremes ! 

• Run you, and hold him, while fol.ely to Demipho and Chremes, 
1 call the fervants.'] In confe- and that the imperatives ufed 
quence of this line, moft of 'by themfelves alfo are all in the 
the tranflations introduce the fingularnumber, andmaythere- 
fervants here ; but I think the fore moft naturally be fuppofed 
fcuffle between Phormio and the to be addreflld to each other, 
old men would be much more while in conflift with Phormio, 
comick in the rcprefentation without the aid of fervanfs— 
without the intervention of fcr- Rape hunc — O; opprime—Pugnot 
vants : And it is remarkable in ventrem ingers'^l^c. 
that Phormio addrcfles himfelf 

U 2 Dm* 



%^^ P H O R M I O. 

Dem. Drag him away ! [both lay hold of him. 

Phor.ftruggling.] Is that your way with me! 
Then I muft raife my voice.— Naufiftrata ! 
Come hither. 

Chre. Stop his mouth ! 
Dem, firuggling.'] A fturdy rogue !. 
How flrong he is ! 

Phor. firuggUng.'] Naufiftrata, I fay. 
Naufiftrata ! 

Chre. JlruggUng.l Peace, firrah ! 
Phor, Peace, indeed ! 

Dem. Unlefs he follows, ftrike him in the ftomack ! 
Phor. Ay, or put out an eye! — But here comes one 
Will give me full revenge upon you both. , 



S C E N E ir. 

^0 them NAUSISTKATA. 

Nau. Who calls for me ? 
Chre. Confufion ! 
"Nau. to Chr ernes.'] Pray, my dear. 
What's this difturbance ? 
Phor. Dumb, old Truepenny ! 
Nau. Who is this man ?— Why don't you anfwer 
me ? [to Chremes. 



P H O R M I O. 293 

fhor. He anfwer you! He's hardly in his fenl&s. 

Chre. Never believe him ! 

Phor. Do but go, and touch him ; 
He's in a Ihivering fit, I'll lay my life. 

Chre. Nay — 

Nau. But what means he then ? 

Phor, I'll tell you, Madam 9 
Do but attend ! 

Chre. Will you believe him then ? 

Nau. What is there to believe, when he fays nothing? 

Phor. Poor man ! his fear deprives him of his wits. 

Nau. to Chremes.] I'm fure, you're not fo much 
afraid for nothing. 

Chre. What ! I afraid ? [endeavouring to take heart. 

Phor. Oh, not at all! — And fince 
You're not afraid, and what I fay means nothing. 
Tell it yourfelf. 

Bern. At your defire, you rafcal ? 

Phor. Oh, you've done rarely for your brother. 
Sir! * 

* Oh, you'^ve done rarely for Phormio, alluding to the mife- 
y«ur hrother,l£c.'\ Eho iu : fa^um rable condition, to which Chre- 
tjl ahs te feduro fro fratre. This mes was reduced by Demipho's 
is commonly tranflated, " that advice. Thus, in the forego- 
" it is no wonder, that you ing fcene, Phormio fays, much 
** defend your brother :" but in the fame fpirit. 
it is a more infulting fpeech of 

— — _ — But, Dcmipho, 
You have but ill confulted for your brother. 
To urge me to extremities.—— 

U 5 Nau, 



294 P H O R M I O. 

Nan. What ! won't you tell me, hufband ? 

Chre. But — 

Jsfau. But what ? 

Chre. There's no occafion for it. 

Phon. Not for You : 
But for the Lady there is much occafion. 
In Lemnos 

Chre. Ha ! what fay you ? 

Den}, to Phor.'l Hold your peace ! 

Phor. Without your knowledge — 

Chre. Oh dear ! 

Phor. He has had 
Another wife. 

Nau. My hufband? Heaven forbid ! 

Phor. *Tis even fo. 

Nau. Ah me! I am undone. 

Phor. — And had a daughter by her there •, while 
You 
Were left to deep in ignorance alone. 

Nau. Oh heavens ! — Bafencfs !-vTreachery ! 

Phor. 'Tisfad. 

Nau. Was ever any thing more infamous ? 
[When they're with Us, their wives forfooth, they're 

old. 
-—Dcmipho, I appeal to You : for Him 
I cannot bear to fpeak to.— -And were thefc 
His frequent journies, and long flay at Lemnos ? 

Was 



P H O R M I O. 295 

.Was this the cheapnefs that reduc'd our rents ? 

Dem. That he has been to blame, Naufiftrata, 
I don't deny; but not beyond all pardon. 

Phor. You*re talking to the dead. 

Dem. It was not done 
Out of averfion, or contempt to You. 
In liquor, almoft fifteen Years ago. 
He met this woman, whence he had this daughter j 
Nor e'er had commerce with her from that hour. 
She's dead : your only grievance is remov'd. 
Wherefore I beg you'd fhew your wonted goodnefs. 
And bear it patiently. 

Nau. How ! bear it patiently ? 
Alas, I wifli his vices might end here. 
But have I the leaft hope ? Can I fuppofe 
That years will cure thefe rank offences in him ? 
Ev'n at that time he was already old. 
If age could make him modeft. — Are my years. 
And beauty, think ye, like to pleafe him more 
At prefent, Demipho, than formerly ? 
— In fhort, what ground, what reafon to exped 
That he fhould not commit the fame hereafter ? 

Phor. loud.] Whoever wou'd attend the funeral * 

* Wboever nvou'd attend, Ifjc.^ which it was cuftomary to ufe 

E^equias Chrementi, l^c. What at the proclamation of Funerals 

creates the drollery of this — L.Tiiio ex/equias ire cut com- 

fpeech is, that Phormio here modum eji, jam tetnpus ejiy ollus 

makes ufe of the fame terms, defertm; 

U 4 Of 



29^ P H O R M I O. 

Of Chremes, now's the time ! — See ! That's my way. 
Come on then ! Provoke Phormio now, who dares ! 
Like Chremes, he fhall fall a viftim to me.* 
— Let him get into favour, when he will ! 
I've had revenue fufficient. She has fomethins; 
To ring into his ears his whole life long. 

Nau. Have I deferv'd this ? — Need I, Demipho, 
Number up each particular j and fay 
How good a wife Pve been ? 

Dem. I know it all. 

Nau. Am I then juflly treated ? 

Dem. Not at all. 
But fmce reproaches can't undo what's done. 
Forgive him ! He begs pardon •, owns his fault ; 
And promifes to mend. — What wou'd you more ? 

Phor. But hold j before fhe ratifies his pardon, 
I muft fecure myfelf and Ph^dria. [ajde, 

— Naufiflrata, a word ! — Before you give 
Your anfwer ralhly, hear me ! 

Nau. What's your pleafure ? 

Phor. I trick'd your hulband there of Thirty Min^, 
Which I have giv'n your fon ; and he has paid them 
To a procurer for a miftrefs. 

Chre. How ! 



* Fall a vjiiim.l MaSiatum tion of thefe words; maSiaium 
infortunio. There is an ele- being a term ufed at facrifices. ' 
2ant humour in the combina- 



What 



P H O R M I O, I97 

What fay you ? 

Nau. Is it fuch a heinous crime. 
For your young fon, d'ye think, to have one miflrefSs 
While you have two wives ? — Are you not afham'd ? 
Have you the face to chide him ? Anfwer me ! 

Dem. He Ihall do ev'ry thing you pleafe. 

Nau. Nay, nay, 
To tell you plainly my whole mind at oncCj 
rn not forgive, nor promife any thing. 
Nor give an anfwer, till I fee my fon. 

Phor. Wifely refolv'd, Naufiftrata. 

Nau. Is That 
Sufficient fatisfacbion for you ? 

Phor. Qyite. 
I refl contented, well-pleas'd, pafl my hopes. 

Nau. What is your name, pray ? 

Phor. My name ? Phormio : 
A faithful friend to all your family, 
Efpecially to Phaedria. 

Nau. Trufl me, Phormio, 
rU do you all the fervice in my power. 

Phor. I'm much oblig'd to you. 

Nau. You're worthy on't. 

Phor. Will you then even now, Naufiflrata, • 
Grant me one favour, that will pleafure me. 
And grieve your hufhand's fight ? 

l^au. With all my foul, 

Phor, 



298 P H O R M I O. 

Phor. Afk me to fupper 1 
J<[au. I invite you. 
Dem. In then ! 

Nau. We will; But where is Phsedria, our judge ? 
Fhor. He fhall be with you. — [To the audiencCy 
* Farewell ; Clap your hands ! 



^FarerLvell', Clap your hands /] 
Thefe three laft fcenes [the 
lame that compofe the fifth adl 
in this tpanflation] are perhaps 
the moft beautiful of any in the 
Phormio ; yet Guyetus has de- 
clared fuch a cruel war againfl 
them, that he cuts them off at 
one ftroke, without giving quar- 
ter to fo much as a fingle verfe : 
but it is impoffible not to fay, 
that this is rather the difguft of 
afick man, than the wholefome 
delicacy of a judicious critick. 
Dacier. 

This remark of Madam Da- 
cier isasjuftas it is elegant, 
and the falfe delicacy of Guyetus 
is as inconfiftent as it is ill- 
founded. For if he confidered 
thefe fcenes asfuperfluous,thofc, 
which here compofe the fourth 
aft, are fuperfluous alfo ; and 
the play fhould end with the 
interview between Chremes and 
Sophrona; for when Phaniumis 
difcovered to be his daughter, 
nobody can doubt of her being 
permitted to remain the wife of 
Antipho, fince it is the very 
ihing which the two old gentle- 

5 



men were labouring to bring 
about. But the truth is, that 
Terence in this play has dif- 
played an addrefs fomething fi- 
milar to that obferved by Monf. 
Diderot in the Self- Tormentor; 
for though Chremes has dif- 
covered his daughter himfelf, 
yet he is particularly anxious to 
conceal that incident from every 
perfonage in the Comedy, ex- 
cept Demipho; and the gradual 
unfolding that circumftance to 
all the other charafters of the 
.play gives the poet an opportu- 
nity of continuing hispiece with 
all that humour and pleafantry, 
with which we fee he has accom- 
plifhed it : and his uncommon 
art in thus adding to the inte- 
reft of his Comedy, inftead of 
fufFering it to languilh, after fo 
important a difcovery, is worthy 
our particular obfervation. Thefe 
fcenes have indeed generally 
procured our poet the approba- 
tion of the fevereft criticks. 
Bentley, in the laft note to the 
fourth aft, fpeaks of them in the 
handfomeft terms, and is fo far 
from endeavowring to bring 
them 



P H O R M I O. 



299 



thcM within " the profcribing 
" hook," that he declares Guy- 
etus to be an abfolute madman 
for his unmerciful fentence of 
amputation. 

But though there are few 
readers, who would not on this 
occafion concur in the opinion 
of Bentley^ and Dacier, yet I do 
not think that this Comedy has 
in general received the encomi- 
ums itdeferves.Theplot indeed, 
being double, is fo far faulty ; 
and the ftory of Phanium and 
Antipho would certainly of it- 
felf afford fufficient materials 
for a Comedy, without the epi- 
fode of Phsdria and theMufick- 
Girl. It mufl however be ac- 
knowledged that, allowing that 
epifode, the conftruftion of the 
fable is extremely artful, and 
contains a vivacity of intrigue 
perhaps even fuperlor to that of 
the Eunuch, particularly in the 
Cataftrophe. The didion is 
pure and elegant, and the firft 
a£l as chaftly written as that of 
the Self-Tormentor itfelf. The 
charafter of Phormio is, as Do- 
natus has obfen'ed, finely fe- 



parated from that of Gnatho, 
and Is, I think, better drawn 
than that of any Parafite inPlau- 
tus. Naufiftrata is a lively Iketch ' 
ofalhrewifh wife, as well as 
Chremes an excellent draught 
of an hen-pecked hulband, and 
more in the ftile of the modern 
drama than perhaps any charac- 
ter in antient comedy, except 
theMiferof Plautus. On the 
whole, if Terence copied as 
clofely from his original in this 
play, as he is fuppofed to have 
done in the four which he drew 
from Menander, it muft give us 
no mean opinion of the drama- 
tick merits of Apollodorus. 

Moliere has given us a con- 
temptible travelHeof this excel- 
lent comedy in his miferable 
farce of Les Fourheries de Scapin^ 
" The Cheats of Scapin.=' It 
would be too injurious to the 
memories both of Terence and 
Moliere to enter into any parti- 
cular comparifon between the 
two pieces. I ihall therefore 
conclude thefe notes with the 
well-known lines of Boileau. 



Etudiez la cour, et connolffez la ville : 
X'une & I'autre eft toujours en modeles fertile. 
C'eft par la que Moliere illuftrant fes ecrits, 
Peut-ctre de fon Art eut remporte le prix ; 
Si moins ami du peuple, en its dodes peintures, 
II n'eut point fait fouvent grimacer fes figures ; 
Quitte pour le bouffon, I'agreable & le fin, 
Et fans honte a Terence allie Tabarin. 
Dans ce fac ridicule, ou Scapin s'envelope, 
Je nc reconnois plus I'Auteur du Miianthrope. 

Art Poetiqj;e, Chant trcijlems. 



ADFERriSEMENT, 

IT was at firft intended to have 
added to this Edition a tranfla- 
tion of the Fragments of Menander, 
and fuch a translation was adually be- 
gun, and afterwards laid aifide, merely 
becaiife it was feared that it would ao- 
pear unfatisfedory : and indeed no 
juft or adequate idea could be formed 
of an Author, whofe remains were lb 
mutilated and imperfed:, that no fingle 
fcene, nay fcarce any two fubfequent 
Ipeeches, of his Plays were extant ! Up- 
on refledlion, therefore, that intention 
was fuperfeded for the fake of annexing 
to this tranflation a feeble fpecimen 
of a verfion of Plautus ; of which 
Author, if the Englifli reader has any 

curiofity 



ADVERTISEMENT, 

curlofity to enter into a more minute 
inveftigation, fuch a reader may be fure 
that he will find his works as much more 
happily rendered by Mr. Thornton, in 
his edition publiflied laft Year, as the 
phrafe and idiom of Plautus are more 
difficult to transfufe into a modern 
language than thofe of Terence. Our 
Author, to be translated with any de- 
gree of juftice, muft be given almoft 
verbatim and liter atim\ but thetranflator 
of Plautus muft fupply the defers of 
his original, lop his redundancies, and 
become, as it were, himfelf another 
Plautus ; a tafk to which few could be 
equal, except him who has undertaken, 
and effefted it. 



THE 



THE 

MERCHANT, 



TRANSLATED FRO AS 



p L A u r U S. 



'' V •* 'I' T *♦' ^ T *♦* T V T ♦ * V *? ip V 'J x^ T '♦* * T* T* T T T V V +* *r T Vp T T'^ 'I* V T V V 'J* ^ 



.^ 



PERSONS. 

DEMIPHO, 

LYSIMACHUS, 

CHARINUS, 

EUTYCHUS, 

ACANTHIO, 

COOK, 

SERVANTS, &c, 

DORIPPA, 

PASICOMPSA, 

SYRA. 

SCENE, Athens, 



Vol. IL X 



THE 

MERCHANT. 

jtn>»«t« ili Aitt. A>t< iti tfj iti ill *tii it *T« A ifciti ■» ^Tf rfi-ti tti -♦- -■*'- •»- *■ * tti >t t t ti Jf tti A AA rti^ti rfii'ti iti it< ttrifi itiA 
y^ V T 'F V V ♦' 4 ■!■ > V T '*■' «* ♦ " V '♦' V ' T^r V v ♦* % ♦ ▼ v '♦* > "' v v ♦ v % ♦ ■» ♦ " * • ♦ 4-^* 

A C T I. S C E N E I. 

p R L G. u e: 

C H A R I N U S. 

ff I MS * now my purpofe to difpatch two things, 

JL The argument and my amours, at once. 
Not like fome other lovers I have feen 
In comedy, who to the night, or day. 
Or fun, or moon, relate their miferies. 
For what care they for the complaints of men ? 
What are our wilhes, or our fears, to them ? 
I therefore ratjher tell my griefs to you, 

* ^Tts novj, cfff.] The cri- fifllon, and as it were dividing 

ticks have very juilly cenfured his perfon between his real and 

this practice of introducing one afTumed charadler. Allowing, 

of the charadlers of the piece, however, for that impropriety, 

who ought to endeavour to give the common cuftom of our au- 

the reprefen ration an air of thor's age, and for the digref- 

truth, as the fpeaker of a Pro- five {allies of a rich imagination, 

Jpgue confeffing the v/hcle to be this Prologu^ has great merit. 

X 2 Thi« 



3o8 THE MERCHANT. 

This play, in Greek entitled Emporos,* 
And written by £*hilemon, Marcus Accius, 
Tranflating it in Latin, ftiles Mercator. 

Know then, 'tis now two years I parted hence, 
Sent by my father forth to trade at Rhodes. 
There with a charming fair 1 fell in love -, 
And how I was entangled with that love. 
Lend but your ears and minds, I will unfold. 
' — In this too have I fwerv'd from ancient rules. 
By falling roundly on my tale, ere yet 
I had obtain'd or all-^'d your leave.— f For love 
Hath all thefe vices in his train ; care, fpleen. 
And ejegance refin'd into a fauk : 
—For not the lover only, but whoe'er 
Aims at an elegance beyond his means. 
Brings great and heavy evils on himfelf — 
But thefe ills alfo, which are yet untold. 
Are incident to love j the wakeful eye. 
The troubled mind, confufion, terror, flight. 
Trifling, nay folly, rafhnefs, thoughtleflfnefs, 
Madnefs, and impudence, and petulance. 
Inordinate defires, and wanton wilhes : 
Covetoufnefs, and idlenefs, and wrong, 

* Emporos.'] A greek word, f For love— hath all, ^e.] 

jaropo^-, which, as well as the In the beginning of the Eu- 

Latin one, mercator, in the ruch of Terence, there is a ce- 

Tiext line but one, fignifies a lebrated paflage very iimilar to 

Merchant. this of our author. 

c And 



THE MERCHANT. 309 

And want, and contumely, and expence. 
Babbling unopportune, and ill-tim'd filence : 
Now talking much, and nothing to the purpofe. 
Things not to have been faid, or not faid now j 
And then again too mute ; for never lover. 
However eloquent, e'er utter'd half 
That might be faid in pleading for his love. 
Let not my babbling then offend you now ! 
Since Venus gave it, when fhe gave me love : 
Love ! the dear iubje6t of my tale, to v/hich 
'Tis fitting now I ftudy to return. 

No fooner was I unto manhood grown, 
My boyilh days and boyifli ftudies paft. 
But I became diftradedly enamour'd 
Of a young harlot in this neighbourhood : 
Then all my means, without my father's knowledge. 
Were Iquander'd upon her -, for fhe was held 
In flavery by a hungry pimp, whofe palm 
Still itch'd, and tongue flill crav'd, for fordid gain. 
On this my father urg'd me night and day. 
Painting the wrongs, the perfidy, of pimps ; 
Infilling, that his fortunes ran to wafte. 
To fwell the tide of theirs. All this aloud : 
Anon he growl'd and mutter'd to himfelf, 
Refus'd to enter into converfe with me. 
Nay, would deny me for his fon ; then ran. 
Bawling and raving, to warn all the town 

X 3 To 



310 THE M E R C t^ A N T* 

To give no credit, and advance no money ; 

Crying, that the extravagance of love 

Had ruin'd thoiifands j — that I paft all bounds. 

And was a fpendthrift and a libertine, 

Who drew, by ev'ry means I could devife. 

His wealth and lubftance from him-, — that 'twas vile. 

To walte and diflipate in vicious love. 

What he by care and labour had acquird i— 

That he had nurtur'd a domeftick fhame, 

Whom nothing but repentance could redeem. 

And render fit to live ; — that at my years 

He did not, like myfelf, devote his time 

To idlenefs, and indolence, and love 

— Nor could indeed have done it, fo feverc 

And ftrid a hand his father held on him — 

But toil'd and moyl'd for ever in the country j 

Once in five years allow'd to vifit town. 

And then, * as foon as he hatl feen the fliew^ 

Dragg'd by his father back into the country. 

Where he work'd moll of all the family ; 

His father crying all the while, " Well done i 

" 'Tis not for me, but for yourfelf, my boy, 

•* You plow and harrow, fow and reap-, your toil 

• Js foon as he had ficn the feafts of Minerva, which werff 

_/y£w.] Ut fpeBaiiiJJit pepliim. celebrated bat once in five 

The fliew alluded to in the ori- years. The feplia or peplu/n 

ginal was the ceremony of the was a facred . habit worn on 

Banathenaka Ma^na, the great thefe occafions. 

« wia 



THE MERCHANT. 312 

** Will end in joy and happinefs at laft i" — 
That when his father died he fold the farm, 
And purchas'd with the money rais'd from thence 
A veflel of * three hundred ton j with which 
He traded to all quarters of the globe. 
And made the fortune which he now pofTeft •, 
—That it behov'd me too to do the fame, 
And fliew that I was worthy of his love. 
By following fo worthy an example. — 
I therefore, feeing that I was become 
The obje6t of my father's hate — my father. 
Whom I was bound to pleafe — tho' mad with love. 
Subdued, however hard the tafk, my mind. 
And told him I was ready to go forth 
To traffick, and determin'd to renounce, 
So he were pleas'd withal, all thoughts of love. 
He thank'd me, prais'd me for my good intention. 
But fail'd not to exaft my promife of me: 
■f Builds me a vefTel, purchafes a cargo. 
Embarks it ftrait, and pays me down a talent J. 
With me he fends a flave too, who had been 

* Three hundred tcfi.'] Me- an ifland famous for fhip build- 

tretai trecentar. According to ing; whence Cercurus became 

the commentators, the exadt a general name for all vefTels. 
amount of a tnetreta of wine X A talenti'\ The Attick 

was an hundred weight. talent amounted to fixty minse, 

\ Builds me a'veJfel.'\Mdificat making about I93 1. 15s. of 

na'vem cercurum. Called Cer- our money, 
cwrus, fromCorcyra or Cercyra, 

X 4 A tutor 



312 THE MERCHANT. 

A tutor to me in my infancy. 
By way of governor. We hoifted fail. 
And foon arriv'd at Rhodes \ where I difpos'd 
Of all the merchandize that I had brought. 
Much to my gain and profit, much beyond 
The rate at which my father valued it. 
Having thus rais'd much money, I encounter'd 
An old acquaintance at the port, who knew me. 
And alk'd me home to fupper : home I went. 
And fat me down ; was handfomely receiv'd. 
And merrily and nobly entertain'd. 
Going to reft at night, behold, a woman, 
A handfomer was never feen, came to me ! 
Sent by my hoft*s command to deep with me. 
Judge too how much fhe pleas'd me ! for next day 
I begg'd my hoft to fell her to me, fwearing 
I would be grateful, and requite his kindnefs. 
In fhort I bought her, and but yefterday 
I brought her hither. Yet would I not chufe 
My father fhould difcover I have brought her. 
Her and a (lave I've left on board the fhip.— 
But how's this ? Is't not he that I fee yonder. 
My Have, that's running hither from the port, 
Altho' I charg'd him not to leave the fhip ? 
I dread the reafon of it. 



SCENE 



THE MERCHANT. 313 

SCENE II.* 

Enter AC ANT HI O knjiily, 

^can. Do your utmoft, 
Try all your force, ufe all your fkill, to fave 
Your poor young mafter ! Stir yourfelf, Acanthio; 
Away with wearinefsj beware of (lothi — 
Plague on this panting ! I can fcarce fetch breath.— 
Drive all you meet before you ; pulh them downj 
And roll them in the kennel ! Plague upon't ; 
Tho' the folks fee one breathlefs and in hafte. 
None have the manners truly to give place. 
And fo one's forc'd to do three things at once j 
To run, and fight, and quarrel all the way. 

Cha. behind.'] What can it be that afks fuch wondrous 
hafte ? 
I long to know what news he brings. 

Acan. I trifle. 
The more I flop, the more we are in danger. 

Cha. He fpeaks of fome misfortune. 

Acan. My knees fail me. 

* Scene II.] As the Pro- of Acanthio conllitutes the be- 

logue relates part of the fable, ginning of the fecond fcene : 

and Charinus ads in his dra- and it is fo marked in the Fari- 

matick ch'araiier, the entrance oum edition of the original. 

Oh, 



314 THE MERCHANT. 

Oh, how * my heart keeps thumping in my bofom \ 
My breath's gone ! I fhould make a woful piper ! 
Cha. behind.'] Plague ! take your mantle, and wipe 

off the fweat. 
Acan. Not all the baths on earth can take away 
This laflitude. — But where's Charinus.now ? 
Is he abroad ? or to be found at home ? 

Cha. Oh, how I doubt what this affair can be ? 
I'll know immediately, to eafe my pain. 

Acan. Why do I ftand thus ? why do I not beat 
Our door to fhatters ?— Open fomebody ! 
Ho ! is Charinus, my young mailer, here ? 
Or is he gone abroad ?— What ! nobody 
To anfwer to the door ? 

Cha. Ho ! here am I, 
You're looking for, Acanthio ! 

Acan. not feeing him. ~\ Such a fchool 
For fervants, as our houfc ! 

Cha. What mifehief now ? [g^^^^Z ^(^• 

Acan. Much mifehief to yourfelf and me, Charinus, 

Cha. What is the matter ? 

Acan. We're undone, Charinus. 

Cha. Be that the fortune of our enemies ! 

Acan. But 'tis j(?z/r fortune. 

Cha. Weil, whatc'er it be, 

* 0/j, 7ny heart, ^r.] Sedi- cordia. Lien properly fignifies 
tionem facit lien: occupat pra- the fpleen. 

I Tell 



THE MERCHANT. p$ 

Tell me this inftant. 

jfcan. Softly ! I want breath. 
IVe burft a vein already for your fake, — '> 
And now I fpit blood. 

Cha. Take Egyptian rofin 
Mix'd with a little honey : that will cure you. 

^can. Plague ! drink hot pitch, and that will eafc 

your pain. 
Cha. I never faw fo paflionate a fellow. 
jican. Nor I one fo provoking. 
Cha. But why fo ? 
Becaufe that I advife you for your health ? 

Acan. Plague take the health that's bought with 

fo much pain ! 
Cha. Was ever good without fome little ill ? 
And would you lofe the firft to mifs the laft ? 

^can. I don't know that : I'm no philofopher : 
And don't defire the good that's mix'd with eviL 
Cha. Give me your hand, Aeanthio. 
y^can. Here then, take it. 

Cha. Will you obey me ? ay, or no, Aeanthio ? 
^can. Judge by experience ; when I've burft 
myfelf 
In running up and down to feekyouout, 
That you might know the news more fpeediiy. 

Cha. Within thefe few months I will make you 
free. 



31^ THE MERCHANT. 

Acan, Ah, how you ftroak me 1 

Cha. Do you think 'tis falfe ? 
Before I fpeak, you know if I would lie. 

Acan. Ah ! your words weary me ftill more : you 
kill me. 

Cha. Is't thus that you obey me ? . 

Acan, What's your pleafure ? 

Cha. Do as I'd have you. 

Acan. Well, what would you have ? 

Cha. I'll tell you. 

Acan. Tell me. 

Cha. Softly, in your ear, 

Acan. Are you afraid * to wake the fleeping 
audience .^ 

Cha, Plague take you ! 

Acan. I have brought you from the port — 

Cha. What have you brought me ? tell me. 

Acan. Force, and fear. 
Torture, and care, and ftrife, and beggary. 

Cha. Death! what a ftore of evils haft thou brought .' 
I'm ruin'd then ? 

Acan. You are. 

Cha. And I'm a wretch ? 

* Are you afraid, ^c] An- reality of the reprefentation 

other inftance of impropriety, by addrefles or allufions to 

not uncommon in our author, the fpedators. 
of breaking into the feeming 

Acan, 



THE MERCHANT, 317 

Acan. Ev'n fo : I'll fay no more. 
Cha. What is this mifchief ? 
Acan. Nay, never afk : the heavieft misfortune ! 
Cha, Ah prithee, good now, eafe me of my 
pain : 
You keep my mind too long in this fufpence *. 

Acan. Softly ! I've many things to afk of you 
Before I'm beaten. 

Cha. Faith, you Jhall be beaten, 
Unlefs you fpeak, or run away. 

Acan. See there ! 
See, how he coaxes ! no man upon earth 
So gentle, when he gives his mind to it. 

Cha. I beg you, I intreat you, tell me quickly j 
Since I muft turn a fuppliant to my flave. 
Acan. Am I unworthy on't ? 
Cha. Oh no : moft worthy. 
Acan. I thought fo. 
Cha. Is the fliip loft ? 
Acan. Safe : ne'er fear. 
Cha. And all the cargo ? 
Acan. Safe and found, 
Cha. Then tell me, 

* You keep my mind too long in not 'deflitute of humour, will 

this fufpence. '\ He does indeed j prove as tirefome to many 

and it is to be feared that this readers of Plautus as it feems 

trifling of Acanthio, though to Chatinus. 

Why 



5i8 THE MERCHANT. 

Why you ran over the whole town to feek me ? 
Acan. You take the words out of my mouth, 
Cha. I'm dumb. 

Acan. Be dumb then : furely if I brought gla4 
tidings 
You would be wondrous preffing, fince you urge me 
Thus beyond meafure to tell evil news. 

Cha. I do befeech you, let me know the worfl. 
Acan. I will then, fmce you challenge it» — Youir 

father — 
Cha. What of my father ? 
Acan. Has feen^ — r- 
Cha. What ? 
Acan. Your miftrefs, 
Cha. My miftrefs ? Oh, il| fortune !— But infornji. 

me 

Acan. Of what ? 
Cha. How could he fee her ? 
Acan. With his eyes, 
Cha. But how ? 
Acan. By opening thenii. 
Can. Away, you rafcal ! 
To trifle when my life's at flake, 

Acan. How trifle } 
Pid not I give an anfwer to your quellion ? 
Cha. Is't certain he has feen her ? 
As.m. Ay, as certain , 

ASf 



THE MERCHANT. 31^ 

As I fee you, or you fee me, 

Cha. But where ? 

Acan. On board the fhip, where he ftood clofe 
befide her. 
And fpoke with her. 

Cha, You have undone me, father ! 
And you, you rafcal, wherefore did not you 
Prevent his leeing her ? How comes it, firrah. 
You did not fhut her up, to hinder it? 

Acan. Becaufe we were employ'd about our 
bufinefs. 
And bufy with the tackling. The mean while 
Your father came 'long-fide us with a boat. 
And no foul faw him till he was on board. 

Cha, In vain have I efcap'd loud florms at fea : 
Now, when I thought myfelf fecure on fhore, 
I feel myfelf the fport of angry waves. 

And dafh'd upon the rocks. Proceed : what 

follow'd ? 

Acan. Soon as he faw the woman, he enquir'd 
Whom fhe belong'd to. 

Cha. "What did fhe reply ? 

Acan. I ran direftly up, and breaking in,- 
Said you had bought her as a ferving-maid, 
To wait upon your mother, 

Cha. Did he fecm 
To credit this ? 

Acam 



320 THE MERCHANT, 

Acan. Entirely. But the rogue 

Began to toy with her. 

Cha, With her^ d'ye fay ? 

Acan. Why, do you think he'd toy with me ? 

Cba. My heart 
Melts away drop by drop in briny tears. 
Like fait diflblv'd ia water. I'm undone. 

Acan. That's true enough : and yet 'tis foolifh 
too, 

Cba, What fhall I do ? If I fliould tell my 

father 
I bought this woman for my mother's ufe. 
He'll not believe it : and 'tis fliameful too 
To tell my father lies. He'll not believe it ; 
Nor is it credible I fhould have purchas'd 
So fweet a creature to attend my mother. 

Acan. Ridiculous ! Have done : he will be- 
lieve it : 
For he believ'd my ftory. 

Cba. How I dread 
His catching fome fufpicion of the truth ! 
Tell me, Acanthio ! 

Acan. What is't I mufl tell you ? 

Cba. Did he appear to have the leaft fufpicion 
She was my miftrefs ? 

Acan. Not the leaft : but fwallow'd 

All that I told him. 

Cba, 



THE MERCHANT. 321 

Cha. So you might imagine. 

Acan. Nay, but I'm fure he did. 

Cha, Confufion ! ruin ! 
— But wherefore waflc I my time here in grieving ? 
Why don't I feek the veflel ? — Follow me. 

Aca7i. Go ihat way, and you*re fure to meet 
your father : 
Who, when he fees you fearful and difmay'd, 
Will ftrait take hold of you, and queftion you, 
Where 'twas you bought her, what you gave for her. 
And overwhelm you in your fright. 

Cha. Why then, 
I'll go this other way. — D'ye think my father 
Has left the Port ? 

Acan. It was the very reafon 
I ran before to feek you out, for fear 
He Ihould fall on you unawares, and worm 
The fecret out of you. 

Cha. 'Twas bravely done. 



Vol. IL Y AC T 



322 THE MERCHANT. 



A C T 11. S C E N E I. 



D E M I P H O. 

HOW many ways the Gods make fport of men ! 
How ftrangely do they fool us in our fleep ! 
As I laft night experienc'd in my dream. 
Methought I bought a beautiful fhe-goat ; 
But left fhe lliould offend another goat, 
I had before at home j or left the two. 
Together in one place, lliould difagree, 
Methought I gave her to the cuftody 
Of an old ape -, v/ho not long after came. 
Full of complainings and reproaches, to me : 
Saying, tha.t by receiving this new gueft. 
He had fuftain'd much injury and wrong; 
For the fhe-goat I trufted to his care 
Had feiz'd on his wife's dowry. Strange ! faid I, 
A fingle goat ftiould feize an ape's wife's dowry ! * 
Still he infifted on it ; and in fhort, 
Unlefs I took the goat direftly thence, 

* A JtvgU goat, l£cP^ Ut una of words between una and am' 

ill^c capra iixoris fitnia dotem badederit ; a poor conceit, 

ambadedtrit. The intended wit neither capable nor worthy of 

and humour of this paffage in being pref&rved in the tranfla- 

^e original depends oa a play tioti. 

Threatened 



THE IM E R C H A N T. 323 

Threatcn*d to bring her home unto my wife. 
I doating, as I thought, on this young goat. 
No friend at hand to take her to his care. 
Was tortur'd with diftrefs and doubt. Mean whils 
A kid, methought, accofled me, and told me. 
That he had carried off the goat, and laugh'd ; 
While I lamented and bewail'd her lofs. 

To what this dream fhould point, I can't devile : 
Altho' indeed I half fufpedt already 
The meaning of that little young She-goat : 
For, having finifli'd all my bufmefs here, 
I went this morning early to the port. 
Where I beheld a veiTel come from Rhodes, 
In which my fon arriv'd but yefterday -, 
It came, I know not how, into my head. 
To vifit it ; I got into a boat. 
And went from thence on board the fhip ; wherein 
I faw a woman of exceeding beauty, 
Intended by my fon to ferve his mother. 
Ev'n at firft fight I fell in love with herj 
Not foberly in love, but to diitraftion. 
In former days, 'tis true, when I was young, 
I've been in love indeed ; but never thus. 
Oh how I rave ! with no more fenfe than this. 
To know that I am mad, and die for love. 
Ay marry, this is the She-goat, I warrant ; 

Y 2 But 



324 THE MERCHANT. 

But what the Ape and Kid portend, I fear. * 
But peace ! I fee my neighbour coming forth. 

SCENE II. 

Enter LYSIMACHUS and SERVANT. 

Lyfim. to fervant.] Now by my troth, I'll have that 
old goat gelt 
That gives me fo much trouble in the country. 

Dem. behind.'] Oh horrid omen ! dreadful augury ! 
I wifh my wife don't treat me like this goat. 
And ad the part of that fame ape I dreamt of. 

hyfim. to fervant.'] Go you diredly to my country- 
houfe, 

• Bui 1-jhat the Apt, l^c."] I Shakefpeare introduced a cir- 

cannot Tay I much approve of curaftance of the like nature, 

this figurative relation of the where he reprefents Romeo as 

antecedent and fubfequent parts deluded by a flattering dream 

of the fable in the fuppofed juft before he receives news of 

dream of Demipho. With how Juliet's death ! 
much more beauty and art has 

If I may truft the flattering truth of fleep. 

My dreams prefage fome joyful news at hand: 

My bofom's lord fits lightly on his throne. 

And, all this day, an unaccufiom'd fpirit 

Lifts me above the ground withchearful thoughts. 

I dreamt my lady came and found me dead, 

(Strange dream ! that gives a dead man leave to think) 

And breath'd fuch life with kifles in my lips. 

That I reviv'd, and was an emperor. 

Ah me I how fweet is love itfelf pofleft, 

Wheii but love's fhadows are fo rich in joy ! 

And 



THE MERCHANT. 325 

And fee that you deliver up thofe rakes 
Into my farmer Piftus his own hands. 
Let my wife know, flie is not to expeft me. 
As I have bufinefs keeps me here in town ; 
Say, I've three caufes coming on to-day. 
Go, and remember. 

Serv. Nothing elfe, Sir ? 

Lyjim, Nothing. [Exit Servant. 

D em, coming up. 1 Save you, Lyfimachus! 

Lyftm. Ha ! Demipho ! 
Save you : how is't ? how goes it ? 

Dem. Wretchedly. 

Lyfim. The Gods forbid ! 

Dem. 'Tis the God's doing. 

Lyfim. What? 

Dem. I'd tell you, if I faw you were at leifure. 

Jjyjim. Nay, tho* I'm bufy, tell me, Demipho : 
I've always leifure to affiil my friend. 

Dem. I know your friendly nature by experience. 
— How old do I appear to you ? 

Lyfim. So old. 
That you have one foot in the grave ; quite aged ; 
Tottering beneath the weight of years \ decrepid. 

Dem. You're blind : I am a child, Lyfimachus, 
A child of fev'n years old. 

lyftm. Of fev'n years old ! 
Y©u're mad. 

Y 3 Dm. 



326 THE MERCHANT. 

Bern, 'Tis true. 

Lyfjn. Oh, now I guefs your meaning. 
When a man reaches the laft ftage of life, 
" Sans fenfe, fans tafte, fans eyes, fans every thing,* 
They fay that he is grown a child again. 

Dem. Nay, nay, but I'm in better health than ever. 
Lyf^m. Well done ! I'm glad on't. 
Bern, And if you knew all. 
My eyes are better than they ever were. 
Lyfnn. Very well ! 
Bem- Very ill, Sir. 
Lyfim. Very ill then. 
Bern. But may I dare to tell you ? 
Lyftm. Boldly. 
Bern. Hear then ! 
Lyfim- I'ro all attention. 
Bern. On this very day 
I've been to fchool to learn the alphabet. 
I know four letters. 

Lyfim. What four letters ? 

Bern. LOVE. 

Lyfiim. Love, you old fool ! with that grey head, 

you dotard ! 
Bern. Grey head, or red head, or blackhead, I lovfe. 
Lyfim. You mean to play upon me, Demipho. 
B^m. Cut off my head, if what I fay be falfe : 
Or, that you may be certain that I love, 

Take 



THE MERCHANT. 323P 

Take a knife, cut my finger, or my ear. 
My nofe, or lip; and if I Ihrink, or wince. 
Or feel that I am cut, Lyfimachus, 
I'll give you leave to kill me for my love. 

Lyjtm. If you have ever feen, orwilli to fee 
The picture of a lover, tkis is he. 
For in my mind an old, decrepid, dotard 
Is but a painted fign upon a wall. 

Dem. This, I fuppofe, is meant to punifh me. 

Lyfim. I punilh you ? 

T)em. I don't deferve reproof. 
Many great men have done the fame before. 
'Tis natural to all mankind to love: 
'Tis natural to all mankind to pardon. 
Upbraid me not ; I love againft my will. 

Lyftm. I don't upbraid you. 

Dem. Nay, but do not hold me 
The lefs in your efteem on this account, 

Lyfim. Ah ! heav'n forbid I fhould ! 

Dem. Take care ! 

Lyjim. I will. 

Dem, But certainly ? 

LyJtm. You pefter me. — This man 
Is mad with love. — Would you aught elfe ? 

Dem. Yourfervanti 

LyJim. I'm going to the Port I I've bufinefs there. 

Dem. A pleafant walk to you ! 

Y 4 Lyftm, 



328 THE MERCHANT. 

Lyftm. Farewel. 

J)m. Farewel ! \Exit Lyfimachns. 



SCENE III. 

D E M I P H O alone. 

I have fome bufinefs at the Port myfelf : 
I'll thither. — But I fee my fon. Good ! good \ 
I'll wait his coming ; and I mufl confider 
Which way I Ihall endeavour to perfuade him 
To fell this wench, not give her to his mother. 
For whom I hear he bought her as a prefent. 
But it behoves me to be wary, left 
He find I've fet my heart upon the girl 

SCENE IV. 



Enter at a difiance C H A R I N U S. 

Cha. Never, I verily believe, was man 
So miferable as myfelf, fo crofs'd. 
Whate'er I undertake, I can't effed j 

* ExitLyJimachus.']T\ns fcene, ly prepares the part which Ly- 
though at firft fight not con- fimachus afterwards takes in 
ducive to the adlion, is far from the fable, 
inartificial i as it very naturalr 

What- 



THE MERCHANT, 32^ 

Whatever wifli I form, I can't aecomplifli : 

Some evil fortune comes acrofs me ftill, 

Deflroying my beft counfels. — What a wretch ! 

I purchased me a miilrefs to my liking. 

Thinking I could conceal her from my father. 

He has difcover'd, feen her, and undone me. 

Nor have I yet determin'd what to fay. 

When he enquires ; fo many different thought? 

Fight in my breaft, I have not pow'r to chufe. 

But my care's doubled by uncertainty. 

Sometimes I like my fervant's counfel well ^ 

And then again I like it not •, and think 

My father never can believe I purchas'd 

This woman to attend upon my mother. 

Then if I tell the real truth, and ov/n 

I bought the girl upon my own account. 

What will he think of me ? He'll rob me of her, 

Artd fend her back beyond fea to be fold. 

I am not now to learn his cruelty. 

Too well convinc'd on't e'er I went from home. 

— And is this love then ? better plow, than love. * 

He thruft me forth from home againfl my will 

To trade abroad j and there this evil feiz'd me. 

What joy's in that, whofe pain exceeds the pleafure ? 

In vain I hid, conceal'd, and kept her fecret. 

* Better ploiv, than hve-l Another jeft, whofe merit con- 
/^RAR£ mavelim quota amar£. fiAs more in found than fenfe. 

My 



330 THE MERCHANT. 

* My father, like a fly, is every where. 
Enters all places, facred, or profane : 
And I have loft all confidence, all hope. 

Dem. behind.] Whatis'tmy fon is muttering to himfelf? 
He feems uneafy. 

Cha. feeing him.J H?t, ! my father here ? 
I'll go and fpeak to him. (going up.) How do you, Sir? 

Dem. Whence come you ? Why are you fo flut- 
. ter'd, fon ? 

Cha. Nothing. 

Dem. I'm glad to hear it. — But what now ? < 

You turn pale. — Are you fick ? 

Cha. A little. Sir. 
I did not fleep extremely well laft night. 

Dem. Having been out fo long at fea, your head 
Turns round now you're on Ihore. 

Cha. I fancy fo. 

Dem. Ay, ay, that's it : but it will foon go off. 
That is the reafon of your turning pale : 

* My father, like afy, ^f.] cordingly diftingulfhed one of 
The impertinence of the fly the principal charafters in the 
V/as proverbial. Curious men Fox by that appellation. Shake- 
were called Mufcae, which was fpeare has taken a very natural 
alfo tiie general term of re- occafion of introducing this fa- 
prcach for Parafites. Our own miliar image in his Romeo aHd 
Jonfon, who was a profeil imi- Juliet, 
tatorofthe ancients, has ac- 

More validity, 
More honOHrable ftate, more courtlhip lives 
In carrion flies, than Romeo : they may feize 
On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand. 
And ileal immortal bleflings from her lips. 

Go 



THE MERCHANT. 331 

Co home then, if you're wife, and reft yourf^lf. 
Cha. I have not time : I've bufmefs to look after. 
Dem. Do that to-morrow, or fome other day. 
Cha. I've often heard you fay. Sir, that wife men 
Should take care to difpatch their bufmefs firfl. 

Dem. Well, follow your own way : I'll not op^ 

pofe you. 
Cha. afide.'\ Let him but ftick to that, I'm fafe 

enough. 
"Dem. ajide.'] What is it he's confulting byhimfelf? 
I'm not afraid of his difcovering me ; 
Since I've done nothing foolifh or abfurd. 
As men in love are apt to do. 

Cha, cijjde.'] I'm fare. 
'Tis plain that he knows nothing of mj^ miiirefs i 
For if he did, he would talk otherwife. 
Dem. q/ide.] I'll fpeak to him about her. 
Cha.afide.] I'll walk off. 
(Aloud.) I'll go and execute my friend's commiffions* 
Dem. Stay, fon ; not yet : I want to all^ you fome- 
thing 
Before you go. 

Cha. What is your pleafure, Sir ? 

Dem. afier heJ^tanng.'jHowhsye you had your health 

fince you've been gone ? 
Cha. Very well, all the time I was abroad : 
But coming into Port, turn'd ftrangely fick. 
Dem. Sea-fickncfs, I fuppofe : 'twiil foon away. 

—But 



332 THE MERCHANT. 

— But prithee tell me, have not you brought home 
A flave from Rhodes to wait upon your mother ? 

Cha. I have. 

Bern. And is fhe beautiful ? 

Cha. Not ugly. 

Dem. And well-behav*d ? 

Cba. Extremely well, I think. 

Dem. Why truly, when I faw her, fo fhe feem'd. 

Cba. What ! have you feen her, father ? 

Dem. I have feen her : 
But fhe'll not do for us, Ihe's not the thing. 

Cba. Why fo .? 

Dem. Her perfon is too delicate. 
We want a lufty fervant- wench, to weave. 
Grind corn, cut wood, fpin, fweep the houfe, be 

cudgel'd, 
And cook the dinner for the family. 
This girl's not fit for any of thefe ufes. 

Cba. The very reafon that Ipurchas'd her. 
As a genteeler prefent for my mother. 

Dem. No, no : don't give her ; do not fay you'ye 
brought her. 

Cba. Heav'n favours me ! [ajde. 

Dem. I fhake him by degrees. [a/ide. 

(^0 Cba.) Befides, tho' I forgot to mention it. 

Such an attendant could not decently 

Follow your mother, nor will I allow it. 

Cba. Why fo ? 

Dem. 



THE merchant;, sn 

Dem. Becaufe it would be Icandalous 
To fee a girl fo handfome in the ftreet. 
After the millrefs of a family. 

The folks would gaze, and ilare, and wink and beckon, 
Hifs her, and twitch her by the fleeve, call to her. 
Grow rude, fing catches underneath her window. 
And fcrawl her praife with coal upon our doors. * 
And as the world are given to detradion. 
They'd fay my wife and I were turn'd procurers. 
Now where is the occafion for all this ? 

CI?^. You're in the right : I'm quite of your 
opinion. 
— But how fhall we difpofe her then ? 

Dem. I'll tell you. 
I'll buy your mother a flout (trapping wench. 
Some Syrian or Egyptian, plain and homely. 
Fit for the miflrefs of a family ; 
And fhe fhall grind, and fpin, and take a whipping, 
And bring no fhame or fcandal to our door. 

Cba. Suppofe then I return this girl to him, 

* Her fraife t^uh coal.] Elo- who fuppofe that in thefe cafes 

giorum carbonibus. Some un- chalk, or coal, or lighted tor- 

derftand thefe words as alluding ches, were ufed indifcriminate- 

to defamatory, rather than com- \-j, according to the colour of 

mendatory verfes ; alledging the ground : as a Poet would 

thatpraife was written in chalk, write a panegyrick in black ink 

and fcandal in coal. Ilia prius upon white paper, or a lover 

CRETA, mox hac carbone. I delineate the name of his mif- 

have followed, however, the trefs with the fmoke of a candle 

opinion of other commentators, on a white- wafhed cieling. 

5 Of 



134 THE MERCHANT. 

Of whom I purchased her I 

Dem. On no account, 

Cha, He faid he*d take her back, if not approv'd. 

Vem. There's no occafion for itj no occafion. 
I would not make a diSerence betwixt you, 
Nor have your faith and honour call'd in quellion: 
And I would rather, if 'twere neceffary. 
Endure fome little lofs, than have this woman 
Bring a difgrace and fcandal on our houfe. 
But I believe that I can fell her for you, 
And make a tolerable market too. 

Cha. At no lefs price than I paid for her, father. 

Dem. Peace -, an old gentleman of my acquaintance 
Commilfion'd me, fome little time ago. 
To purchafe for him fuch a girl as this. 

Cba. But a young man of my acquaintance. Sir, 
Commiiiion'd me to purchafe one for him. 

Dem. I think, I can have twenty Minse for her. 

Cha. But, if Ipleas'd,! could have fev'n-and-twenty 
Paid down immediately. 

Bern. But I— — 

Cba. Butl= 

Bern. Peace ! you don't know what I was going to fay: 
I can bid up three Minse more •, that's thirty. 

[looking on one fide. 

Cha. Whom are you turning to .'' 

Bern. The purchafer, 

Cha. 



THE MERCHANT. 335 

Cha. Where is the gentleman ? 

Dem. I fee him yonder : 
He bids me add five Minse more. 

Cha. Plague take him. 
Whoe'er he be ! [^apart, 

Dem. He nods to me again : 
Six Mins more ! 

Cha. Sev'n more ! — I am refolv'd 
He Ihan't exceed me. My chap bids the faireft. 

Dem. Bid what he will, I'll have her, 

Cha. Mine bid firft. 

Dem. No matter. 

Cha. He bids fifty. 

Dem. For a hundred 
He fhall not have her. Why d'ye bid againft me ? 
You'll have a noble bargain \ the old man. 
For whom I purch?Je her, is fuch a dotard : 
He's mad for love of her ; and you ihall have 
Your price, a(k what you will. 

Cha. Indeed, indeed, Sir, 
The youth, for whom I buy, is dying for her. 

Dem. The old man, if you knew him, is much 

fonder. 
Cha. The old man never was, and never will be, 
More mad for love than this young fellow, Sir. 

Dem. Have done : I'll manage this. 

Cha. What mean you ? 

4 Dem. 



23^ THE M E R C H A N T„ 

Dem. How ! 

Cba. I did not take this woman as a flave.* 

Dem. But he will take her as a flave : fo let him, 

Cba. You have no right to let her up to fale. 

Dem. I'll mind that matter. 

Cha. Then too fhe belongs 
To me in common with another man : 
And how am I to judge of his intentions. 
Whether he means to part with her, or no ? 

Dem. I know he will. 

Cha. But I know one that won't. 

Dem. What's that to me ? 

Cha. Becaufe he has a right 
To challenge the dilpofal of his own. 

Dem. What do you fay ^ 

Cha. I fay that fhe is mine 
In common with another, not now prefent. 

Dem. You anfwer me, before I afkthe queftion. 

Cha. You buy my Have, before I fell her, father : 
I don't know if my friend and partner in her 
Chufes to part with her, or no. 

* Js ajlan/e.] This refers to free. In allufion to this cuf- 

the praftice of flave-merchants, torn, Charinus here tells his fa- 

who, if they warranted the men ther that ftievvas not warranted 

or women whom they fold to a flave to him. Which objedion 

be flaves, were obliged to re- is over-ruled by Demipho, who 

imburfe the buyer, if he was replies that his friend will run 

afterwards defeated of his pur- that rifque. 
chafe by their proving to be 

Dem* 



T « E MERCHANT, 33; 

Dem. How then 
Can t'other man commifTion you to purchafe. 
When he don*t chufe to fell ? You trifle with me, 
No man Ihall have her but the man I mean, 
I am refolv'd. 

Cha. You are refolv'd ? 

Dem. I am. 
Moreover, I'll direftly to the Ihip, 
And there fhe fliall be fold. 

Cha. Shall I go with you ^ 

Bern. No. 

Cha. You don't chufe it ? 

Dem. You had better flay, 
And look to the commifllon you are charg'd with. 

Cha. You won't allow me ? 

Dem. No. Excufe yourfelf. 
And tell your friend that you have done your befl. 
But come not to the Port, I charge yoil. 

Cha. No, Sir. 

Dem. aftde.'] I'll to the Port myfelf, and left my fon 
Difcover my proceedings, ufe great caution. 
I will not purchafe her myfelf; but truft 
My friend Lyfimachus to buy her for me. 
He faid that he was going to the Port, 
ril to him, without further lofs of time* [Exit. 



Vol. It Z SCENE 



33^ 



THE MERCHANT. 



SCENE V. 

C H A R I N U S alone. 

Death and confufion ! ruin'd and undone ! 

They fay, the Bacchanals tore Pentheus * piece-meal 

Ah, he was never half fo torn -]- as I am ! 

Why do I live ? why, why am I not dead ? 

I'll go and feek out an apothecary, J 

And kill myfelf with poifon ; being robb'd 

Of that, for which alone I wiih to live. [Gokg. 



SCENE VL 

Enter EUTYCHUS. 

Eut. Hold, hold, Charinus I 
Cba, Who calls ? 



* Pentheus was a king of 
Thebes, faid to be torn to pieces 
by his mother Agave, and the 
reft of the prieftefTes of Bacchus, 
for attempting to be prefent at 
the celebration of their cere- 
monies. 

f jih, he ivas never ^ ^r.] 
The intended pathos in this 



and fome other pafTages in this 
play, uttered by Charinus in 
his diftrefs, rather borders up- 
on the ridiculous. 

X An apothecary. '\ IhadMt- 
DicuM, atque ibi me toxica 
morti daho. The word medicui 
is ufually fuppofed to fignify a 
phyfieiaa j but as it here refers 
imme- 



THE MERCHANT. 339 

Eut. Eutychus. 
Your friend, companion, neighbour, Eutychus. 

Cha. Ah! you don't know the griefs I labour under. 

Eut. I do : from our door I have heard it all. 
I know the whole affair. 

Cha. What is't you know ? 

Eitt. Your father means to fell-— 

Cha. You're right. 

Eut. Your miflrefs-— 

Cha. You're but too well inform'd. 

Eut. Againft your will. 

Cha, You know too much : but how did you 
difcover 
She was my miftrefs .? 

Eut. You acquainted mc 
Yourfelf but yefterday. 

Cha. I had forgot it. 

Eut. No wonder. 

Cha. Come, inftrud me, Eutychus ; 
Tell me, which way I fhall deftroy myfelf, 

Eut. Peace ! never talk thus ! 

Cha. What then fhall I talk of ? 

Eut. Shall I impofe upon your father ? 

Cha. Ay ; 

immediately to the vender of Charinus may put many readers 

drugs, I ventured to tranflate in mind of Shakefpeare's Ro3 

it an apothecary. It is not un- meo, 
Jikely, that the refolution of 

Z 2 With 



340 THE MERCHANT. 

"With all my heart. 

Eut. And fhall I to the Port ? 
Cha, On wings, ifpoflible. 
Eut. And buy the girl ? 
Cha. Ay; with her weight in gold. 
Eut. But where's the gold ? 
Cha. I'll beg Achilles to lend Hedor's ranfom* 
Eut. You're mad. 

Cha. True : were I in my perfeft mind, 
I Ihould not afk your help, as my phyfician. 

Eut. Shall I pay down whatever price he 

afks ? 
Cha. More than he afksj a thoufand pieces 

more. 
Eut. Peace ; and confider where you'll get the 
money. 
When you're to fettle with your father. 

Cha. Somewhere-, 
Anywhere -, fomething fliall be thought of. 

Eut. Pfhaw! 
I am afraid thzt fo'incthing will be nothing. 
Cha. Can't you be filcnt ? 
Eut. I am dumb, 
Cha. But are you 
Sufficiently inftruded ? 

Eut. Prithee think 
Of fomething elfe. 

Cha, 



THE MERCHANT. 341 

Cba. It is impofTible. 
Eut. Farewel ! 

Cha. I can't fare vfdU till you return. 
Eut. Pity, you're mad ! 
Cha, Go, thrive, and fave my life ! 
Eut, ril do it : do you wait for me at home ! 
Cha. And you return with fpeed, and bring the 
fpoil ! \ExeKnt feverally. 



Z ^ ACT 



342 T H E M E R C H A N T. 

ACT III. SCENE I. 

Enter LYSIMACHUS, with PASICOMPSA, 

LYSIMACHUS. 

I'VE afted by my neighbour neighbourly. 
And bought this piece of goods at his requeft. 
You're mine now. (to Paf.) Follow me : — Nay, d» 

not weep ; 
You are to blame to fpoil thofe pretty eyes, 
And you fhall find more caufe to laugh than cry, 
Paf. Good Sir, inform me ! 
Lyftm. Afk whate'er you pleafe. 
Paf. What did you buy me for ? 
Lyftm. For what? — To do 
"Whate'er I order you •, and in return 
I'll do whatever you fhall order me. 

Paf. I fhall in all my befl obey you, Sir. 

Lyftm. My orders will not be extremely painful. 

[^Smiling, 
Paf Indeed, Sir, I've not learnt to carry burdens. 
Nor to tend cattle, nor take care of children, 

Lyfan. Be a good girl, and you fliali be well treated, 

5 P'-f- 



THE MERCHANT. 343 

Paf. Then I am miferable. 

Lyfim. Why ? 

Paf, Becaufe 
I came from whence bad people were beft treated : 
Nor would I fpeak what all folks know already. 

Lyfim, 'Fore heaven, that fpeech alons is well worth 
more 
Than I paid for her. — You'd infinuate 
That there is no fuch thing as a good woman } 

Paf. Indeed I don't fay that^ Sir. 

Lyjim. Give me leave 
To alk you one thing. 

Paf A{k it ;• I'll reply. 

Lyfim. Acquaint me with your name then. 

Paf Paficompfa. 

Lyftm. It fuits your form.*--But tell me, Paficompfa, 
Could you, if there were an occafion for it, 
Weave a fine woof? 

Paf I could. 

Lyfim. It follows then 
Undoubtedly that you could weave a coarfer. 

Paf I fear no woman of my age for weaving. 

Lyfim. Ay, a good girl, I warrant you, and honeflj 
And of an age to know your duty well. 

• Pajicotnpfa. — // fuits your port with the name cf Ann 

form.'\ Paficompfa is a name Lovely in one of our Englifh 

compounded of two Greek comedies. 
words,a»4 of much the fame im- 

Z 4 Paf 



144 THE MERCHANT. 

Paf. Indeed I have been well inllruded. Sir ; 
And will not let my work be call'd in queftion. 

Lyfim. Well, that's the very thing •, you'll do, I 
find ; 
I']! give you for your own peculiar ufc 
A fheep of fixty years of age,* 

Paf. So old, Sir ? 

Lyfm. Of the true Grecian breed, extremely fine -^ 
And you will fheer it mofl incomparably. 

Paf. Whatever honour's done me, I'll be grateful. 

Lyftm. NoWj child, to undeceive you, you're not 
mine. 
Do not imagine it. 

Paf. Whofe am I then ? 

Lyfm. You're purchas'd for your mafler*s ufe again 5 
And I've now ranfom'd you at his requell. 

Paf. Ah ! I revive, if he be true to me. 

Lyfim. Be of good cheer ! he'll give you liberty, 
'Fore heaven, girl, he loves you to diftra6lion : 
You charm'd him at firll fight to-day, 

Paf To-day? 
'Tis now two years that we have been connefted : 
For fince I find you are his friend, I'll truft you. 

Lyfim. How ! have you been two years connedted ? 

Paf Ay: 

* A fieep, ijc.'] Meaning next fcene but one, where Lyn 
Demipho. Much the fame fimachus calls Demipho bell- 
' kind of conceit occurs in tbe weather. 

And 



THE MERCHANT. 345 

And bound each other by a mutual oath. 
Never to know a man or wife befide. 
Or yield to an adulterous embrace. 

Lyfim. Good heav'n ! has he no commerce with 
his wife I 

Paf. His wife ? He is not, nor will e'er be married. 

Lyjim. Would he were not ! He is a perjur'd man. 

Faf. I love no man on earth like that dear youth. 

L)^m. A youth, you fimpleton ! — Not long ago 
His teeth fell out, 

Paf. Whofe teeth ? 

Lyfim. No matter whofe. 
Follow me in : he has intreated mc 
To give you entertainment at our houfe 
for one day i fmce my wife is otit of town. ]_ExetcHt. 



SCENE 11. 



D E M I P H O alone. 

1 have concerted this intrigue at laflr. 

And purchased, by my neighbour's help, a miflref?. 

Without the knowledge of my wife and fon. 

I'll recoiled old faws, and pleafe my humour : 

I ' My 



346 THE MERCHANT, 

My race near run, the reft of my career 
Shall be fill'd up with pleafure, wine, and love : 
For to indulge and fate the appetite 
In this laft ftage of life is very meet. 
While you are lufty, young, and full of blood. 
You ought to toil and labour for a fortune ; 
But in old age, be happy, while you may. 
And render all your latter years clear gain. 
I by my deeds will prove thefe maxims true. 
But mean while I muft call at home : my wife, 
I warrant you, is almoft ftarv'd with waiting, 
And has expedled me at home long fmce. 
— Yet if I go, fhe'U kill me with her fcolding : 
No : come what may, I'll not go home atprefent. 
But find my neighbour firft, and give him charge 
To hire me fome apartments for my miftrefs. 
But fee ! he's coming forth. 



SCENE III. 

Enur LYSIMACHUS. 

Lyftm, /peaking to Paf. withm.'] I'll bring him ta 
you 
Diredly, if I find him. 

Dem» 



THE MERCHANT. 347 

Dem, behind.'] Meaning me. 

Lyfnn. turning about.'] Demipho ! 

Dem. Is the woman at your houfe ? 

Lyfim. What do you think ? 

'Dcm. What if I go and fee ? \z^'^^Z' 

Lyfim, Whither fo faft ? hold, hold ! 

[flopping him, 

Dem. On what account ? 

hyfim. Think what you ought to do, 

Dem. And wherefore think ? 
To enter here is what I ought to do. 

Lyfim. And would you enter, you old bell- 
weather ? 

"Dem. Why fhould not I ? 

Lyfim. Be rul'd by me, and learn 
Certain precautions I think needful firft. 
For fhou'd you enter now, you'd run direflly 
Into her arms, and talk to her, and kifs her. 

Dem. You know my mind : I fhould do even fo. 

Lyftm. You would do wrong then. 

Detn. Wrong, with her I love ? 

Lyfim. More and more wrong with her you love. — 
What you ! 
A goat of an old fellow, rank, and falling. 
Go with your ftinking breath to kifs a wench ? 
Your fondnefs will but make the woman fick. 
'Fore heaven, you muft doat indeed to think on't. 

Bern, 



i 



348 THE MERCHANT. 

Bern. Suppofe then (fince 'tis fo) we get fome cook 
To drefs a fupper for us at your houfe 
Againft the evening. 

Lyji. Well faid ! now you've hit it. 
Now you talk gallantly, and like a lover. 

Dem. Why do we ftand then ? Let's go inflantly. 
And cater for a jovial entertainment f 

Lyji. I'll follow you •, but mark, I give yci warning. 
To look out for a lodging for this wen^ .. 
She cannot ftay with me beyond to-day 5 
For fear my wife fhould come to town to-morrQW, 
And find her here, 

Dem. I've fettled that. Av/ay ! [ExeunL 



SCENE IV. 



C H A R I N U S akn^. 



Now am not I a wretch, a wretch indeed*,^ 
To whom no place can miniiler repofe ? 
If I'm at home, my mind is gone abroad j 
If I'm abroad, my mind remains at home. 
Love in my breaft and heart fo fiercely burns, 
Did not a fluice of tears defend my eyes. 



My 



THE MERCHANT. ^4^ 

My head would be in flames.* — Some hope remains j 

Safety is fled 5 if ever to return. 

As yet I am uncertain. If my father 

Should feize, as he has threaten'd, Paficompfa, 

Safety is gone for ever. If my friend 

Return fuccefsful, he brings fafety with him. 

And yet had that fame tardy Eutychus 

Been crippled with the gout, he might have been 

Here from the Port ere now. — Oh, he is flow. 

When I could wifli him nimble as my thoughts. 

— But who comes running hither ? — Ha ! 'tis he. 

I'll meet him. — And Oh Thou, who feefl: all deeds 

Of Gods and men, the fovereign governefs f 

Of ev'ry mortal accident, I thank thee 

For bringing me this hope ! — But may I hope ? 

Ah, I'm undone ! His afpeft likes me not. 

Mournful he comes. — My bofom b«rns ; I doubt; 

—He fliakes his head. — Well, friend ! 

* My headivould he inflames.'] of it, than the paflage before 

When Plautus aitefts pathos, us. 

he is very apt (as has been f So'vereign go'vernefs.'\ Im- 

before obferved) to fall into plying the goddefs Fortune, 

the ridiculous : aiU there The fame addrefs to her oc- 

are few more glaring inflances curs in the fifth aft. 



SCENE 



350 THE MERCHANT. 

SCENE V. 

Enter EUTYCHUS. 

Eut. Alas, Charinus ! 

Cha. Ere you take breath, deliver but one word. 
Where am I ? with the living, or the dead ? 

Eut. With neither. 

Cha. Then I'm fafe. I am immortal. 
He has redeem'd her, and o'er-reach'd my father. 
— There's no foul living that can fooner put 
His purpofe into ad. — Come, prithee fpeak ! 
If neither here, nor with the dead, where am I ? 

Eut. No where. 

Cha. Confufion ! this dull trifling kills me. 
When you Ihould fpeak diredly to the point, 
To beat about the bufli thus, is provoking. 
Whate'er thy news, tell me the fum of all. 

Eut, Firft, we are ruin'd then. 

Cha. Nay, that's no news. 
Inform me fomething I don't know, 

Eut. Your miftrefs 
Is torn away from you. 

Cha. Ah, Eutychus! 
You're guilty of a capital ofi'ence. 

Eut. Of what ? 

Chcit 



THE MERCHANT. 351 

Cha. Of murder: for you put to death 
A friend, companion, and free citizen. 

Eut, Heaven forbid ! 

Cha. You've cut my throat. I fall. 

Eut. Abandon not your mind unto defpah- ! * 

Cha. I have no mind to be abandon'd, I. 
— Come, fpeak the reft of your ill news : for whom 
Has Ihe been purchas'd ? 

Eut. That I cannot tell. 
She was adjudg'd a (lave, and carried off, -f 
Before I reach'd the Port. 

Cha. Ah me ! you throw 
Mountains of fire upon me with thefe news. 
Proceed, and torture, executioner. 
Since you have once begun. 

Eut. Alas, my friend. 
This troubles me as forely as yourfelf. 

Cha. Tell me, who bought her. 

Eut. I don't know. 



* Abandon nott tfff.] There not well fulred to our language, 
is a hardnefs in the turn of and not very elegant in the ori- 
words in this line and the next ginal. 

^aefo, hercky afiimum ne despohde. 
Cha. Nullus efi, quem desposdeam. 

t Adjudged a /lave,'] Not fuch, before the purchafers 
only criminals, but flaves alfo, had a right to carry them off 
were formally condemned as as their property. 

Cha. 



352 THE MERCHANT. 

Cha. See there ! 
Is that difcharging bufinefs like a friend ? 

Eut. What could I do ? 

Cha, The very thing, that noiv 
YouVe feen Me do-, have died, but have difcovefd 
What kind of man he was, who purchased her : 
And poffibly that way have trac'd the woman* 

Eut. Alas ! [weeping, 

Cha. Weep not the mifchiefs you have done, 

EuL What have I done ? 

Cha. Deftroy'd me ; broke your faith. 

Eut. The Gods are witnefles I'm not to blame. 

Cha. Away ! ne'er call upon the abfent Gods. 
Give me a living witnefs of your truth. 

Eut. 1 have proofs worthy your belief, proofs 
worthy 
To be produc'd by mc. 

Cha. You're quick and apt 
At difputation •, to difcharge your truft 
Lame, blind, dumb, fenfelefs, weak, and impotent. 
You promis'd to cajole my father. I, 
Fool that I was ! believ'd you capable : 
But now I find you a mere block, a ftone. 

Eut. What could I do ? 

Cha. What could you do ? Oh fliame ! 
Have afli'd, enquir'd, who ? whence he was ? what 



figure ? 



A ci- 



THE MERCHANT. 353 

A citizen, or foreigner ? 

Eut. They told me, 
That he was an Athenian citizen. 

Cha, You might at leaft difcover his abode. 
If not his name. 

Eut. No creature could inform me. 

Ch/z. His figure then you might have aflc'd at leaft. 

EuL I did. 

Cha. And how did they defcribe him to you .? 

Eut. Juft thus : bald-pated, bandy-legg'd, pot- 
bellied, 
Wide-mouth'd, fhort, blear-eyed, knthorn-jaw'd, 
fplay-footed. 

Cha. This is not the defcription of a man. 
But a mere bundle of deformities. 
Know you aught more about him .'' 

Eut. Nothing more. 

Cha. Death ! his vile lanthorn-jaws have ruin'd 
me !* 
I can't endure it. I will fly my country j 
And only doubt what city I Ihall feek, 
Eretria, Megara, Corinth, Chalcis, 
Crete, Cyprus, Gnidus, Sicyon, Zacynthus, 



* His lanthorn jaivs ha've puns with which the works of 

ruin'd mi.'\ lilt oblongis malis Plautus abound ; puns, which 

dedit mihi magnum malum, though no tranflation can ren- 

The original here affords an- der, no reader has occafion to 

other of thofe innumerable regret. 

Vol, II. A a Or 



I 



354 THE MERCHANT. 

Or Lefbia, or BcEOtia. 

Eut. Why d'ye think on't ? 

Cha. Bccaufe I'm crofs'd in love. 

Etit. And what of that ? 
Suppofe you gain your place of deftination^ 
If there you chance again to fall in love. 
And be again fuccefslefs, will you fly 
That country too ? Another and another. 
Upon the like occafion ? — You will fet 
No bounds to exile ; know no end of flight. 
What country, what abode can then be certain ? 
Suppofe you quit this city, d'ye fuppofe 
You leave love here behind you ? If you think fo. 
If you're convinc'd on't, how much better were it. 
To go into the country, and live there. 
Till this ungovern'd paffion wears away ? 

Cha. You've faid? 

Eut. I have. 

Cha. In vain : for I'm refolv'd. 
ril home, and pay my duty to my parents ; 
And then, without their knowledge, fly my 

country. 
Or take fome other ftep as defperate. \^Exit, 



SCENE 



THE MERCHANT. s^g 

SCENE VI. 

EUTYCHUS aim. 

How fuddenly he took himfelf away ! 
Wretch that I am ! if he fhoiild fly his country. 
They'd fay that my remiflhefs was the caufe. 
I will afTemble all the publick criers. 
And find this woman out by proclamation. 
If that Ihould fail, I'll to the Prsetor, beg him 
To grant fearch-warrant officers, and raife 
An hue and cry in ev'ry ftreet in town : 
For thefe I think the only means are left mc. 



A a 2 ACT 




SS^ THE MERCHANT. 



A C T IV. S C E N E I. 



DORIPPA, SYRA following. 

Y hufhand having fent to let me know 
He could not follow me into the country. 
Like a true woman, I return'd to Athens, 
In qucfl of him, who feems to fly from me. 
— But where's our Syra ? — I don't fee her.-rHeav'n ! 
How flow llie comes ! 

Enter SYRA. 

"Why don't you follow fafter ? 

Syr. Good faith, I can't, with all the load I carry. 

Dor. What load ? 

Syr. Why fourfcore years and four : 
Which, with fatigue, and flavery, and thirft. 
Weigh me quite down. 

Dor. Well, give me fomething, Syra, 
To offer at our neighbour-altar.* 



't3* 



* yft our 7ieighbour'aItar.'\ luto te, <vidne Apollo. It was 
ViciKi nojiri aram. Jpollinis ufual for the Athenians to have 
underftood. So in the Bac- at their doors an altar facrcd 
chides. Aft II. Scene I. Sa- to Apollo or Bacchus, whom 

they 



1 in E ivi JL K C u A IN V. 357 

Syr. Take 
This branch of laurel. 

Dor. Now go in. 

Syr. I go. [.goes in. 

Dor. at the altar."] Apollo ! I befecch you to grant 
peace. 
And health and fafety to our family i 
And to my fon profperity ! 

Syr. within.'] Ah me ! 
Ah well-a-day ! ah woful day ! ah me ! 

Dor, Why, how now ? are you mad ? v.'hat means 
this howling ? 

Syr. entering.] Dorippa ! ma'am ! Dorippa 1 

Dor. Why d'ye bawl thus ? 

Syr. Here's a flrange woman in the houfc. 

Dor. What woman ^ 

Syr. A harlot- woman. 

Dor. Is it poflible ? 

Syr. Troth, you were very wife to come to town. 
She were a fool indeed, who could not fee 
This woman was your pretty hufband's miftrefs. 

Dor. My mind mifgives me, you are in the right. 

Syr. In then with me, my Juno ! and behold 
Your harlotry Alcmena ! 

they confidered as guardian to as from Dcnatus, tliat thefe al- 

the family. And it is evi- tars always made a part of the 

dent, from many pafTages in theatrical decorations. 
Plautus and Terence, as well 

A a 2 Dor. 



358 T H E M E R C H A N T, 

Dor. In, in, Syra ! 
I follow you as faft as pofTible, [Exmnt^ 

SCENE U. 

LYSIMACHUS donK 

Is't not enough that Demipho's in love. 

But he mufl be extravagant befides ? 

Had he invited ten grandees to fupper. 

He has prepared too lavifhly j and then 

He follows up the cooks, as earneftly 

As pilots urge the failors in a fhip. 

I hir'd the mafter-cook myfelf ; and wonder 

He is not come according to my order. 

— But our door opens : who is this comes forth ? 

SCENE III. 

Enter ^t a dijlance D O R I P P A; 

Vor. to herfelf.'] There never was, never will be, ^ 
wife 
More wretched than myfelf. Ah, what a hufband \ 
Unhappy that I am ! From this time forth 
Be cautious, women, whom ye truft in marriage. 

What, 



THE MERCHANT. 359 

What, I ! who brought a fortune of ten talents ! 
That I fhould fee and fufFer fuch affronts ! 

hyftm. behind. 1 Ha ! I am loft : my wife is come 
to town, 
And has found out this wench, I warrant you. 
— But at this diftance I can't hear. — I'll nearer. 

I)or. Ah, woe is me ! 

hyfi. And me. 

Tior. Undone! 

Lyftm. And I. 
No doubt but llie has feen her.— All the Gods 
Confound you, Demipho ! 

Dor. Ay, this it was 
Prevented him from coming out of town. 

Lyftm. I'll go and fpeak to her. (goes up) Gooi- 
morrow, wife ! 
—Our town-folks grow mere rufticks.* 

Dor. But they ad 
More modeftly, than they who don't grow rufticks, 

* Our iovsn-folks gro^jj tnere bumpkins. This explanation] 

rujiicks.] This pafTage is fome- does not appear to be ftrained 

what obfcure, but is thus ex- or unnatural j but there is 

plained by the commentators, certainly an uncouthnefs in 

Lyfimachus bids his wife good- the dialogue, as it ftands at 

morrow ; but fhe, being out prefent, which a word or two 

of humour, pouts at him, and from Lyfimachus, by way of 

makes no return to the faluta- comment on his wife's filence, 

tion : on which he obferves, would have rendered clear and 

that the town-gentry are grown eafy. 
as unmannerly as the country 

A a 4. Lyjim^ 



36o THE MERCHANT. 

hyfim. What ! have the rufticks been in fault ? 
Jjor. Much lefs 
Than folks in town, and do themfelves lefs raifchief. 
Lyfim. Prithee, what mifchief do the folks in town? 
Dor, What wench is that within ? 
Lyfim. You've feen her then ? 
T)or. I've feen her. 

Lyfm. And, " Who is flie," do you alk ? 
Dor. Ay, to be fure ; and I'll know too. Ton 

know. 
Lyfm. You'd have me tell you " who fhe is," 
you fay ? 
She— ftie — confufion ! what Ihall I reply ? [afide. 
Dor. What 1 do you falter ? 

Lyjtm. I've not feen her. 

Dor. Tell me ! 

Ly/im. Give me but leave, I will. 
Dor, You fhould ere now. 
Ly/im. You prefs me fo, it is impoffible : 
You queftion me, as if I were to blame. 

Dor. Oh, to be fure, you're not at all to blame ! 

lironically, 
Lyfm. Say what you pleafe. 
Dor. Speak you ! > 

Lyftm. 1 will. 
Dor. Then fpeak ! 

lyfm. She's — Would you have me tell her name ? 

Dor. 



THE MERCHANT, 3^1 

Dor. You trifle. 
IVe caught you. You're in fault. 

Lyfm. What fault ? She is 

Dor. Who is fhe ? 

Lyfim. hefitating,'] She 

Bor. See there ! 
Lyjim. Plague take her name ! 
pid not I long to tell it, I fhould hit on*t. 
Dor. You don't know who Ihe is then j* 
Lyfim. Very well. 
I am her judge.* 

Dor. Her judge .^--Oh ! now I have it. 
You've call'd her here to be your counfellor. 

[ironically. 
Lyfim. No ; fhe is left with me, as arbiter. 
Dor, ironically .'\ I underftand. 
Lyfim. Nay, not as you imagine. 
Dor. You clear yourfelf too foon, {ironically. 

Lyfim. This bitter bufinefs 
Has prov'd too much for me. I'm quite aground. 

{afide. 



* I am her ]VDCU.^-Tou*'ve 
calf d her here to be your coun- 
sellor. — She is left ivith me, 
as ARBITER.] Thefe paffages 
relate to ancient ufages, and 
are interpreted thus. The pro- 
perty of Paficompfa was fup- 
pofed to be in difpute, and Ly- 
fjmachus, by mutual confent. 



appointed judge to decide be- 
tween the contending parties. 
On thefe occafions, it was ufual 
for the perfon fo appointed to 
call in fome friends as counfeU 
lors, to advife him in his de- 
termination ; and the thing in 
difpute was always left in his 
cuftody. 

SCENE 



^Gz THE MERCHANT. 

SCENE IV. 

Enter the COOK, with SERVANTS. 

Cook. Quick ! quick ! make hafte ! for I muft 
drefs a fupper 
For an old gentleman in love. — Tho' truly 
'Tis for ourfelves we drefs it, not for him. 
For give a lover but his paramour. 
He feafts on Her 5 to languilh, and embrace. 
To kifs, and chat, is meat and drink to him. 
But we, I trull, fhall go well loaded home. 
This way !— But here's th' old gentleman that hir*d US* 

Lyfim. The Cook here too ! Undone again ! 

Cook^ to Lyfim,'] We're come. 

Lyjim, Go back again. 

Cook. Go back again ! — Why fo .^ 

Lyfm. Hift ! get away, I tell you. 

Cook. Get away ? 

Lyfim. Be gone. 

Cook. What ! don't you want a fupper. Sir ? 

Lyfim. We've fupp'd already. — Now I'm quite iw^ 
done. \afide. 

Dor. What ! have the folks, who chofe you arbiter, 
Order'd in thefe provifions too } 

Cook, 



THE MERCHANT. 363 

Cook. Is this 
Your miftrefs, that you told me of at market ? 

Lyfim. Hufh ! 

Cook. A good pretty tidy wench enough : 
And her mouth waters at a man, I warrant. 

hyfim. Hence, rafcal ! 

Cook. Faith, fhe's not amifs. 

Lyfim. Confufion ! \afide. 

Cook, And, I dare fay, a charming bedfellow I 

Lyfim, Won't you be gone ? — It was not I that 
hir'd you. 

Cook. Not you ? 'Fore heaven, your own felf. 

Lyfim. Undone ! [afiide. 

Cook. By the fame token too, you let me know 
Your wife was in the country, whom yoii loath'd 
\Vorfe than a ferpent. 

Lyfiim. Did I tell you fo ? 

Cook, Ay, that you did. 

Lyfim. So help me, Jupiter, 
As I ne'er utter'd fuch a word, fweet wife ! 

Dor. Can you deny it ? 

Cook. No ; he did not fay 
He loath'd you., miftrefs, but his wife. 

Dor. 'Tis plain 
That I am your averfion. 

Lyfiim. I deny it. 

Qook. And he faid too, his wife was in the country, 
I Lyfiim. 



364 THE MERCHANT. 

Lyfim. This is fhe, firrah ! — Why d'ye plague me 
thus ? 

Cook. Becaufe you faid you did not know me.-— 
What ! 
Are you afraid of Her ? 

Lyfim. And well I may ; 
For I have none befide. 

Cook, Will you employ me ? 

Lyfim. No. 

Cook. Pay me then. 

Lyfm. You fhall be paid to-morrow. 
Be gone at prefent. 

Dor. What a wretch I am ! 

Lyfim. 'Tis an old faying, and I find a true one. 
That a bad' neighbour brings bad fortune with him. 

Cook. Come, let's begone! (to Serv.) If any harm 
has happen'd, 
'Tis not my fault. [/<? Lyfim. 

Lyfim. You malTacre me, villain. 

Cook. I know your mind ; you'd have me gone. 

Lyfim. I would. 

Cook. Give me a drachma,* and I'll go. 

Lyfim. I will. 

Cook. Order it then : it may be paid, while They 
Set the provifions down. 

* A drachma.'^ The Attick was equal to feven pence three 
drachma, according to Cooke, farthings of Englifh money. 

Lyfim. 



THE MERCHANT. s^s 

Lyfim. Will you be gone ? 
Will you ne'er ceafe tormenting me ? 

Cook, Come then ! \to the Servants. 

Lay the provifions down before the feet 
Of that old gentleman. — The pots and pans 
I'll fend for prefently, or elfe to-morrow. 

[ to hyfimachus. 
Follow me. \to the Servants^ who lay down the 

'provifions y and go out after him. 



SCENE V. 
LYSIMACHUS, DORIPPA, SYRA. 

Lyfim. You're furpriz'd, I make no doubt. 
At this Cook's bringing thefe provifions here. 
— But I'll explain. 

Jjor. I'm not furpriz'd at all 
At any wrong or wickednefs from You. 
But be affur'd, I'll not endure this ufage. 
Fine treatment for a wife ! to have your wenches 
Brought home to my own houfe ! — Intolerable ! 
"-Go, Syra, to my father, and intreat him 
To let me fee him here immediately. 

Syr, I go. l^Exit. 

Lyfim. You quite miflake the matter, wife : 

I'll take whatever oath you pleafe to frame, 

5 That 



366 THE MERCHANT. 

That Fve no bufinefs with the wench. — What now ? 
Is Syra gone ? lExit Borippa* 

S C E N E VI. 

LYSIMACHUS alone,' 

See there ! my wife gone too ! 

Death and deftrudion ! — Gods confound you, neigh- 
bour, 

You, and your millrefs, and intrigues together ! 

What foul fufpicions has he thrown upon me ! 

Rais'd mc a croud of enemies abroad, 

And made a tygrefs of my wife at home ! 

I'll to the Forum, and tell Demipho, 

By her own hair I'll drag his doxy forth, 

Unlefs he takes her hence without delay. 

Wife! wife, ho! (calling to her within.) Tho'youare 
enrag'd with me. 

Be wife, and order thefe provifions in. 

To make our fupper better by and by. [^Exit* 

SCENE VII. 
Enter fever ally SYRA ^»^ EUTYCHUS. 

Syr. Her father, whom my miftrefs fent me to. 
Is not at home •, nay, not in town, they fay : 

And 



THE MERCHANT. 367 

And Vm returning to her with this anfwer. 

Eut. at a diJianceJ] I'm tir'd of hunting the whole 
city through 
In chace of this fame girl, and all in vain. 
— But fure my mother mull be come to town j 
For I fee Syra Handing at our door. 
Syra ! 

Syr. Who's there ? who calls ? 

Eut. Your mafler, nurfe. 

Syr. turning.'] What, my young mafler ? Heav'n 
blefs my child ! 

Eut. Inform me, is my mother come to town ? 

Syr. Ay, marry, is fhe ; and by great good luck. 
Both for herfelf, and all the family. 

Eut. Why, what's the matter then ? 

Syr. Yourfweet papa 
Has brought a wench into the houfc. 

Eut. A wench ? 

Syr. Ay : madam came to town, and found her 

there. 
Eut. Aha, old gentleman ! I ne'er fufpeded. 

You were addidled to fuch pranks as thefe. 

Is the wench ftill within ? 

Syr. Ay. 

Eut, Follow me. [Exit. 



SCENE 



368 THE MERCHANT, 

SCENE VI. 

S Y R A alcne* 

Now, by my troth, the poor unhappy women 
Are much more hardly dealt with than the men. 
For if a hulband brings his miftrefs home, 
Tho' the wife finds her under her own roof. 



* Syra alone.] Nothing can 
follow the preceding icene 
more naturally than this fo- 
liloquy: aad yet the old com- 
mentators, never content with- 
out fophifticating their author 
as well as illuftrating hixn, have 
here foifted in three lines, in 
order to introduce two dull 
fuppofititious fcenes ; on which 
Limiers, in his examen pre- 
fixed to this comedy, remarks, 
*« One may eafily perceive, by 
" the difference of ftile, that 
** they are not only unworthy of 
«• Plautus, but rather ufelefs in 
*' the condud of the plot." 
The truth is, the fcenes in quef- 
tion are not only ufelefs andim- 
pertinent, but diametrically op- 
pofite to the evident defign of 
Plautus. Had he introduced 
the wife of Demipho into his 
piece, he v/ould no doubt have 



derived much pleafantry from 
the admiffion of that charadter; 
but that he had no fuch inten- 
tion, is manifeft from the laft 
fcene, where we are exprefsly 
told, that Demipho's wife is 
utterly ignorant of the whole 
tranfadlion. Had the author 
of the fuppofititious fcenes en- 
deavoured to open a fource of 
pleafantry, left untouched by 
Plautus, he might perhaps have 
deferved fome notice ; but his 
interpolation is as dull, as it is 
injudicious with refpeft to the 
defign of the author : for Peri- 
ftrata enters, not to produce 
any comick fituation by a jea- 
loufy and deteftion of her huf- 
band's amours, but only, like 
a tender-hearted mama, to la- 
ment that her fon's miftrefs 
Jhould be run away with by his 
father. 

There 



THE MERCHANT. 369 

There is no law that punifhes the man : 

But catch her rambling with gallants abroad. 

The hufband truly fues for a divorce. 

Would the fame law held good for man and wife ! 

For fince a wife, if ihe's an honeft woman. 

Will be contented with her hufband ; why. 

Should not the hufband alfo with his wife ? 

I would fain fee fair play between them both ; 

And then, I warrant you, if ev'ry hufband, 

Prov'd a fly wencher, could but be divorc'd 

As well as wanton wives, we foon fhould find 

More widowers, than there are widows now. [Exit. 



Vol. II. Bb ACT 



370 THE MERCHANT. 



ACTV. SCENE I. 



CHARINUS coming from home in a travelling habit* 

ONCE more, ye facred doors,* I bid you hall. 
And to that greeting join, Farewel for ever ! 
To-day, for the laft time, I lift my foot 
Over my father's threfhold. From this hour 
All ufes and enjoyments of this houfe 
Are gone, deftroy'd, eftrang'd from me for ever. 
Ye houfhold Deities, who guard my parents, 
And IHed your influence on our family. 
To you I recommend their lives and fortunes. 
I muft feek other houfhold Gods, muft feek 
Another city, and another country : 
At Athens I abide no more. Where vice 
Each day grows more and more predominant; 
Where treachery and friendfhip are fo mingled. 



* Sacred doors. '\ Among the balum, from the goddefsVefta ; 

ancients the doors of houfes and the commentators on our 

were confecrated to particular author cite a paffage from Ter- 

Deities. Eugraphius, in hjs tullian, in which he mentions 

notes on Terence, tells us, that Limentinus, that is, God of 

the entrance was called Velli- the threfhold. 

They 



THE MERCHANT. ^jt 

They cannot be diftinguifli'd ; where alljoySj 
Dearefl and befl, are ravifh'd from me ; there 
I would not live,'— no, hot to be a king* 

S C E N E IL 

Enter at a dlfiance E U T Y C H U S, 

Eut. Fortune! who feeft the deeds of Gods and men. 
Sole arbitrefs of all events on caf th, 
I thank thee ! Thou haft rais'd me from defpair. 
Is there a God now happier than I ? 
All that I fought and wifh'd for was at home. 
There I found friendlhiip, life, fociety, 
Feftivity, and joy, and jollity, 
Thefe boon companions chas'd the balefiil troop 
Of anger, enmity, difafter, folly, 
Perverfenefs, forrow, weeping, banifhment, 
Diftrefs, and folitude. Oh grant, ye Gods, 
I foon may find Charinus ! 

Cha. not feeing bim.] I am prepar'd, 
Thus furnifh'd as you fee. I caft away 
All equipage and pomp : my own companion. 
My own attendant, horfe, and groom, and fquire : 
Mafter at once, and fervant to myfelf, 
I carry m.y own baggage. — God of love, 

B b 2 How 



572 THE MERCHANT. 

How abfolute thy fway ! for thou canft make 
The coward confident, and fright the brave ! 

Eut. not feeing Cba.] I'm thinking where to find 
him. 

Cha. to himfelf.] I'm refolv'd 
To feek her over all the world. No river. 
Mountain, or fea fhall bar my way. I fear 
Nor heat, nor cold, nor wind, nor rain. Let rain 
Defcend in torrents, or the fcorching fun 
Parch me with thirft, I will endure it all. 
No reft, no refpite, night or day I'll take. 
Till I have loft my life, or found my love. 

Eut, Whofe voice is that ? 

Cha. And oh ye Gods,* who make 
The traveller your care, proted me ! 

Eut. Jupiter! 
Is that Charinus ? 

Cba. Citizens, farewel ! 

Eut. Ho! ftop, Charinus! 

Cba. Who recalls me ? 

Eut. Hope, 
Safety, and vidtory. 

Cba. What would you with me ? 

Eut. To keep you company. 

Cba. Go feek fome other. 
For the companions that I have at prefent, 

• Te Gods, moho makct l^c.\ Thefe Deities were called Lares 
'vialesf Gods of the road. 

5 Hold 



THE MERCHANT. S7i 

Hold me, and will not part with me. 

Eut. Who are they ? 

Cba. Care, mifery, diflradion, pain, and forrow. 

Eut. Scurvy companions ! drive them hence. Come 
hither. 

Cha. If you'd fpeak with me, follow. 

£«/. Stop, I fay. 

Cha. 'Tis idle to delay a man in hafle. 
The fun is going down. 

Eut. Dired your halle 
This way, inltead of that you now perfue. 
And better fpeed will follow it. This way 
The wind is prolperous, do but fhift your fail. 
Here's a fair weftern breeze, and there the fouth 
Heavy with rain : this fpreads a peaceful calm 
Over the bofom of the deep, and that 
Works up the billows to a foam. This way ! 
Make towards the land, Charinus ! Don't you fee 
How black the clouds are yonder, how the fhowcr 
Hangs ready to burft over you, while here 
Prevails eternal fun-fhine, and fair weather? 

Cba. The omens * that he fpeaks of fliould deter me. 
rU turn that way. 

Eut. Ay, now you're wife, Charinus. 

• The omens, ^f.] This is pious to refift certain words 

pcrfedly agreeable to the fu- which they regarded as omens 

pcrftitious manners of the an- or infpirations. Limiers. 
eicnts, who confidcrcd itasim- 

B b 3 Ad- 



374 THE MERCHANT. 

Advance this way. Another ftep ! another ! 
Stretch out your hand tow'rd mine. D'ye hold me ? 

Cha. Ay. 

Eut. Stay ! whither are you going ? 

Cha. Into exile. 

Eut. What to do there ? 

Cha. The fame that wretches ufe. 

Eut. Fear nothing : I'll rellore you to content, 
Ere you depart. 

Cha. I will depart direftly. 

Eut. Attend, and I'll tranfport you with glad 
tidings. 
Stop! I'm your friend, and bring the belt of news, 

Cha. What news ? 

Eut. Your miftrefs— 

Cha. Vv^hat of her .? 

Eut. I know 
Where fhe is 

Cha. Do you ? 

Eut. Safe and found, 

Cha. $afe ! where ? 

Eut. Oh, 1 know where, ' 

Cha. But / had rather know. 

Eut. Can't you be quiet ? 

Cha^ No : I'm all emotion, 

Eut. I'll make you calm and quiet, never fear. 

Cba. Nay, prithee now, inform me wh^re you've 

ieen her. 

Not 



THE MERCHANT. z^s 

Not a word ? Speak. You kill me with your filence. 

Eut. She's not far off. 

Cha. Where ? Shew me, if you fee her. 

Eut. I do not fee her now indeed, but faw her 
A while ago. 

Cha. Andfhall /fee her? 

Eut. Ay. 

Cha. The leaft delay is tedious to a lover. 

Eut. Still arc you fearful .'' I'll inform you alU 
I have no dearer friend on earth, than he 
Who has her now in his poireffion ; none 
To whom I am more bound in love and duty. 

Cha. I don't concern myfelf with him or her. 

Eut. I'll talk to you of her then : tho' indeed 
I never thought of telling that at firft. 

Cha. Inform me, where is ite then. 
' Eut. At our houfe. 

Cha. A charming houfe I a well-built houfe in-; 
deed ! 
Built in a happy hour ! if this be true. 
But how may I believe it ? Have you feen her ? 
Or do you fpeak from hearfay ? 

Eut. I have feen her. 

Cha. Who brought her hither ? 

Eut. What a filly queftion ! 

Cha. Well, I allow it. 

Eut^ Don't you bluih, Charinus ? 

B b 4 What 



376 THE MERCHANT. 

What fignifies who brought her 

Cha. So fhe's there ? 
Eut. She's there, I promife you. 
Cha. For thefe good news 
Willi what you pleafe ! 
Eut. Suppofe I do ? ; 

Cha. I'll pray 
The Gods to grant your wifli, 
Eut. Ridiculous ! 

Cha. Let me but fee her, all my cares are over. 
— Why don't I flrip this habit off ? — Within there ! 

[calling. 
Ho ! fomebody come forth, and bring my cloak ! 
Eut, Well done ! this pleafes me. 
Cha. In good time, boy ! [to a lad who enters. 
Here, take this doublet, and this furniture. 
Nay, never ftir : flay there ! that if thefe news 
Prove falfe, I may perfue my journey ftill. 
Eut. Don't you believe me ? 
Cha. Moft implicitly. 
But, prithee, introduce me, 
Eut. Stay a little ! 
Cha. Why fo ? 

Eut. It is not time to enter yet. 
Cha. You torture me. 
Eut. There is no need, I fay, 
That you fliouid enter now, 

Cha. 



THE MERCHANT, 'i^^ 

Cha. And why not now ? 
Eut. There's no occafion for it. 
Cha. No occafion ? 
Eut, 'Tis inconvenient to her. 
Cha. Inconvenient 
To her, who loves me ; whom I love fo dearly ? 
— He trifles with me mofl egregioufly. 
Fool that I was to credit him ! 'Tis all 
A trick to flop me. — Give me back my doublet. 
Eut. Nay, do but hear me ! 
Cha. Here, boy ! take this cloak ! 
Eut. My mother is enrag'd againft my father. 
For bringing Paficompfa to our houfe. 
While Ihe was in the country ; and fuppofes 
That Paficompfa is my father's miftrefs. 
Cha. not regarding him.] I've got my belt,* 
Eut. And fhe is now enquiring 
The truth of that affair within. 

Cha. Jiill inattentive. 1 — And fword. 
Eut. And fliould I introduce you now— 
Cha. Jiill inattentive.] — And bottle. 
And thus accoutred I march off. 
Eut. Hold, hold! 

• il^ belt — and f^ord— and belts; and that neither the 

ioltle.] Each of thefe compofed Greeks nor the Romans ever 

a part of the traveller's equi- wore a fword in the city. The 

page. Lambinus tells us, that bottle was filled with oil, in or- 

travellers, as well as foldiers, der to anoint their feet, 
carried iheir money at their 

Hark 



378 THE MERCHANT. 

Hark ye, Chariniis ! 

Cha. No, no, Eutychus ; 
No tricks on travellers ! 

Euf. I mean no tricks. 

Cha. Won't you allow me to perlue my journey ? 

Eut. I can't allow you. 

Cha. Why do I delay ? 
In, boy ! (Exit Boy.) I am already in my chariot j 
The reins already in my hand. 

Eut. You're mad. 

Cha. Why do not I diredly on to Cyprus, 
Seeing my father drives me into exile ? 

Eut. Nay, ceale this folly ! 

Cha. No ; I am refolv'd 
Never to ceafe to fearch for her— ' 

Eut. I tell you. 
She's at our houfe. 

Cha. For all, that he has faid. 
Is faliliood. 

Eut. Nothing but the real truth. 

Cha. I'm now arriv'd at Cyprus. 

Eut. Follow me : 
And you lliall fee the objed of your wifhes. 

Cha. I've enquir'd after her, but cannot find her. 

Eut. I'll not regard my mother's anger now. 

Cha. Still will I on in queft of her. I'm now 
Arriv'd at Chalcis ; I encounter there 

My 



THE MERCHANT. 379 

My old Zacynthian holl, and let him know 

My errand thither -, afl<: if he has heard 

Who brought her thither, and who now detains her. 

Eui. Have done this trifling, and walk in with me. 

Cha. " Faith," * fays mine hoft, " the figs, Sir, at 
" Zacynthus 
** Are no bad figs.'* 

Eut. Your hofl is in the right. 

Cha. " As for your miilrefs, I believe, I've 
" heard 
*' She is at Athens." 

Eut. He's another Chalcas.-j- 

Cha. I go on board, fet fail, and come to port. 
Now I'm at home, return'd from banifhment. 
Ha ! my friend Eutychus, are you there } Save you ! 
How have you been, friend ? How are both my 

parents ? 
What ! fup with you } I'm much oblig'd to you. 
To-morrow, if you pleafe ; to-day at home : 
For that's but right and decent. 

• ** Faith,''^ fays mine hcjl^ inftance of the fame fpecies of 

l£c,'\ Some commentators have humour in Shakefpeare, where 

difcovered a myfterious mean- the Prince anfwers FalflafF'e 

ing in this paflage, conveying queftion about the hoftefs, by 

a moral comparifon between faying, *' And is not a bufF- 

youth and green figs. But Tur- " jerkin a fweet robe of du- 

nebus juftly remarks, that it " ranee ?" 
means nothing more than that f Chalcas.'] A prieft menti- 

the hofl: madean anfvver nothing oned in Homer, who had the 

to the purpofe, We have an gift of prophecy. 

EhL 



38o THE MERCHANT. 

Eut. You are dreaming. 
The man has loll his fenfes. 

Cba. Heal me then -, 
Quick ! minifter your medicines, like a friend. 

Eut. Follow me then. 

Cha. I follow. 

Eut. Gently, gently! 
You tread upon my heels. — But do you hear ? 

Cba. I've heard too much already. 

Eut. You muft bring 
My mother into humour with my father. 
For fhe's enraged at prcfent — 

Cba. Prithee, hence ! 

Eut. About the girl — 

Cba. Nay, hence, I fay. 

Eut. So mind ! 

Cba. So hence, I fay ! I'll render her as mild 
As Juno, when (he is at peace with Jove. [Exeunt.^ 



• Exeunt.'] There is fome- 
thlng very unnatural in the be- 
haviour of the young gentle- 
men in this fcene. Eutychus 
trifles with his friend before he 
communicates the moft inte- 
refting news ; and Charinus 



trifles after he has heard it. It 
is very juftly obferved by Li- 
miers on this occafion, that, 
diilant as the manners of the 
ancients might be from our 
own, yet the paflions of man- 
kind hare been always the fame. 



SCENE 



THE MERCHANT. 381 

SCENE III. 
BEMIPHO, LYSIMACHUS. 

Bern. As if now * you yourfelf had ne'er been 
guilty 
Of fuch a thing as this ? 

Lyfim. 'Fore heaven, never. 
Nevex, I promile you : and even now 
I fcarce know whether I'm alive, or dead. 
My wife is fo enrag'd about this wench. 
She foams again. 

Dem. I'll pacify your wife, 
Make your excufe, and reconcile you both. 

Lyftm. Follow me then.- — But fee ! my fon comes 
forth. 

SCENE IV. 

Enter EUTYCHUS. 

Eut. to Cha. within.'] I'll to my father now, and 
let him know 

* As if now, ^f.] In fome the two fuppofitltlous fcenes 
editions eleven fpurious lines mentioned in the notes to 
are prefixed to this fcene, pro- the fourth adt. 
bably by the fame hand with 

My 



382 THE M E R C H A N T, 

My mother is quite pacified j and then 
Return immediately. 

Lyjim. lijiening.'] This promifes. 
Well, Eutychus ? [goin^ up to him. 

Eut. Ha ! well met both ! 

Lyftm. What now ? 

Eut. My mother is appeas'd and fatisfied. 
You may join hands again. 

Lyfm. Good heav'n be prais'd ! 

Eut. As for you, Demipho, I let you know 
You've loft your miftrefs. 

Dem. Plague upon your news ! 
What means all this ? 

Eut. I'll tell you. D'ye both mark me ? 

LyJim. Both. 

Eut. When'er men of rank are ill-difpos'd. 
Their evil difpofition ftains that rank. 

Dem. Very true. 

LyJim. True indeed : but 'tis a truth 
Bears hardly upon you. [to Dem, 

Eut. Why that's true too. 
And at your age it ill becomes you, Sir, 
To ravifti from your fon, a youthful lover. 
His newly-purchas'd miftrefs. 

Bern. How is this ? . . 

Is Paficompfa then Charinus' miftrefs ? 

Eut. How the old fox dilTembles ! 

Dem, 



THE MERCHANT. 383 

Dem. Not at all. 
My fon inform'd me he had purchased her 
To wait upon his mother. 

EuL For which reafoa 
You purchas'd her, young lover ? Eh, old boy ?* 

Ly^m. Well faid ! Go on. I'll fecond you. Let's, 
both 
Work him, as he deferves, for this! 

Dem. Confufion ! 

Lyjim. on onejide.'] To ufe his fon fo ill ! 

Eut. on the other fide. '\ So fcandaloully ! 
To drive him into exile ! 

Dem. Is he gone ? 

LyJim. Peace, fcarecrow ! an old fellow, like 
yourfelf. 
Should have done meddling with thofe matters. 

Dem. True. 
I own I've been to blame. 

Eut. Peace, hatchet-face ! 
Your age Ihould not admit of crimes like thefe : 
For as the feveral feafons of the year 
Bring with them different fruit, in human life. 
So have our adions their fit feafons too. 
If then old men, like you, without reftraint, 
Pafs in lafcivious wantonnefs their age, 

* Toung lo'ver — old boy.'] Exaflly the expreffions of the 
original. No'vui amator——-~'v§^uspuer. 

Wlierg 
4 



384 THE MERCHANT. 

Where is the fafety of the piiblick weal ? 

Bern. Alas ! I'm ruin'd. 

Eut. Youth alone * fhould follow 
The trade of bafket-making. 

Dem. Well, e'en take 
^fket and bafket-maker to yourfelves ! 

Eut. Reftore them to your fon: let him enjoy 
them. 

Dem. With all my heart : I give my full confent. 

Eut. In good time truly ! now you cannot help it. 

Dem. Nay, let him afk whate'er revenge he will. 
And he fliall have ir for this injury. 
But, prithee, make my peace with him : I beg 
He may not be incens'd : for had I known. 
Had he inform'd me, tho' but jeftingly. 
She was his miftrefs, now by Hercules, 
I never would have tried to tear her from him. 
I beg you then, fweet Eutychus j intreat you } 



• Touth alone, 55^.] In the original, this fpeech and the next 
run thus. 

Eut. Adohfcentes rei agenda ijii magis folertt operant dare. 
Dem. jfamohfecro 'vobis hercli habete (umjportis, cumffcina. 

There are various readings in " with her bafkets and panni- 

the laft fpeech ; but each way '* ers." Wherefore I have 

it is agreed to be utterly pro- made ufe of a kind of cant 

verbial, fignifying, " Take phrafe in our own tongue, 

•* her, with all that belongs to fomewhat fimilar to the lan- 

*« her." The reading I have guage of the proverb in the 

followed is in Englifh literally, original. 
*< Now then prithee take her. 

You're 



THE MERCHANT. 385 

You're his companion j lend me your afliftance. 
Take an old fellow under your proteftion. 
And you fhall find he will not be ungrateful. 

Lyftm, Ay, ay, intreat him to forgive your crimes. 
And fpare the follies of your youth. \ir(mically. 

Dem. Again ? 
Cruel ! d'ye perfecute me dill .'* I hope 
A time will come I may be even with you. 

Lyfim. No : I gave over thofe pranks long ago. 
Dem. Henceforward, fo will I. 
Lyfrm. Not you. Your mind 
Will foon return to its old bent again. 

'Dem. Nay, prithee now, have done ; or if you 
pleafe, 
Horfewhip me ! 

hyfim. Truly you deferve it richly. 
And when your wife ihall come to know of this. 
She'll do it too. 

Dem. She need not know of it. 
Eut, No, no : Ihe Ihall not know of it : ne'er 
fear ! 
Let us go in ! it fuits not your affairs 
To talk in fuch a publick place as this. 
And make a witnefs of each pafTer-by. 

Dem. 'Fore heaven, you are right : the ftory too 
"Will be the fhorter ; fo let's in diredly ! 
Eut. Your fon is at our houfe. 
Vol. IL C c Dem. 



S86 THE MERCHANT, 

Dem. I'm glad to hear it. 
We can pafs thro' the garden home again. 

Lyjim. Hold, Eutychus, 1 muft enquire one 
thing. 
Ere I fet foot within the houfe. 

Euf. What now ? 

hyfim. Every man looks to what concerns himfelf, 
Inform me therefore, if you're very certain 
Your mother's anger is appeas'd, 

Eut. Qiiite certain. 

Lyfim. Take care ! 

Eiit. Depend upon't. 

Lyfim. I'm fatisfied. 
But prithee don't deceive me ! 

Eut. Do you doubt me ? 

Lyfitn. Well, I believe you ^ yet I am afraid, 

Dem. Come, come, let's enter ! 

Eut. Hold ! before we go, 
Pafs we the laws againft old men -, the laws. 
By which henceforward they Ihall hold them bound ! 
" Whoever hath attain'd his fixtieth year, 
" Be he or hufband or old batchelor, 
" And lliall attempt to wanton with the wenches, 
" Be it decreed, we deem him impotent 5 
*' And for his ill-timed prodigality, 
*- Doom him to lofe the little he has left. 
^' Henceforth let none forbid his youthful fon, 

♦> To 



THE MERCHANT. 387 

" To wench, or keep a miftrefs — decently -* 

" On pain of lofing more, than 'twould have cofV, 

*' Had he indulg'd him in it ! — From this night 



* — ^ecenih:] " The latitude 
here allowed to the debaucheries 
of young men muft be ofFeii- 
five to thofewho are acquainted 
with the pure dodlrines of Chri- 
ftianity ; but was eafily recon- 
cileable to the groflhefs of the 

Pagan religion." Such is 

the remark of Madam Dacier 
on the conclufion of the Bro- 
thers of Terence, where, in 
like manner, Demea allows 
that his fon Ctefipho Ihall 

keep his miftrefs. From 

the other part of this 
play, however, which is the 
main plot, an excellent moral 
may be deduced. An anti- 
quated libertine is indeed a 
truly comick charadler, and a 
very proper objed of fatire and 
ridicule. The play on the 
whole, though not a favourite 
with the old commentators, has 
undoubtedly great merit. There 
are feveral happy turns in the 



conduced, and in its conftruc- 
tion approaches nearer to the 
modern manner, than any other 
piece in the Greek or Latin 
languages. An author of thefe 
days would indeed moll pro- 
bably have introduced the wife 
of Demipho, in order to 
heighten the ridiculous diftrefs 
of the old dotard after his de- 
teftion, and by that means 
have enlivened the cataftrophe, 
which, it muft be confeffed, 
appears to be the moft un- 
finiftied part of this comedy. 
Terence, who, if he had lefs 
humour than Plautus, had cer- 
tainly more art, has very hap- 
pily betrayed the Lemnos in- 
trigue of Chremes to his wife 
Naufiftrata, in the laft aft of 
Phormio. But that Plautus had 
no fuch intention in this co- 
medy, is plain from the fol- 
lowing portion of the above 
dialogue between the parties 
concerned in this fcene. 



fable, which is in general well 

Dem. Nay, prithee now, have done ; or if you pleafe, 
Horfewhip me ! 

Lyfim. Truly you deferve it richly. 
And when your wife ftiall come to know of this. 
She'll do it too, 

Dem, She need not know of it. 

Eut. No, no : fhe fhall not know of it : ne'er fear ! 
Let us go in ! it fuits not your affairs 



To 



^n THE MERCHANT. 

" Be thefe our laws in force againfl old men." 
Young men, farewell ! and if ye like thefe flatutes, 
Enaded to make fathers dutiful. 
Now ratify them with your loud applaufe ! 



To talk in fuch a publick place as this. 
And make a witnefs of each pafler-by. 

This pafiage alone would be an fourth aft, if their lamentable 

irrefragable argument of the dullnefs and infipidity did not 

fpurioufnefs of the two fcenes afford a ftill more convincing 

mentioned in the notes to the proof c^ the interpolation. 



A P P E N- 



[ 389 ] 



A P P E N D I 



TH E reverend and ingenious Mr. Farmer, in 
his curious and entertaining EJfay on thfi 
Learning of Shakefpeare, having done me the honour 
to animadvert on fome paflages in the preface 
to this tranilation, I cannot difmifs this edition with- 
out declaring how far I coincide with that gentle- 
man; although what I then threw out carelefsly 
on the fubjed of his pamphlet was merely inci- 
dental, nor did I mean to enter the lifts as a cham- 
pion to defend either fide of the queftion. 

It is moft true, as Mr. Farmer takes for granted, 
that I had never met with the old comedy called 
The Suppofes, nor has it even yet fallen into my 
hands •, yet I am willing to grant, on Mr. Farmer's 
authority, that Shakefpeare borrov/ed part of the 
plot of The Taming of the Shrew, from that old 
tranQation of Ariofto's play, by George Gafcoign, 
and had no obligations to Plautus. I will accede 
alfo to the truth of Dr. Johnfon's and Mr. Far- 
mer's obfervation, that the line from Terence, 
exa6lly as it Hands in Shakefpeare, is extant ia 

Vol, II. D d LiUy^ 



390 APPENDIX. 

Lilly and Udall's Floures for Latin Speaking. Still, 
however, Shakefpeare's total ignorance of the 
learned languages remains to be proved ; for it 
muft be granted, that fuch books are put into the 
hands of thofe who are learning thofe languages, in 
which clafs we muft neceflarily rank Shakefpearc, 
or he could not even have quoted Terence from 
Udall or Lilly •, nor is it likely, that fo rapid a 
genius fhould not have made fome further pro- 
grefs. " Our author, (fays Dr. Johnfon, as quoted 
" by Mr. Farmer) had this line from Lilly ; which 
" I mention, that it may not be brought as an argu- 
" ment of his learning." It is, however, an argu- 
ment that he read Lilly ; and a few pages further 
it feems pretty certain, that the author of The 
Taming of the Shrew., had at leaft read Ovid j from 
whofe epiftles we find thefe lines ; 

Hac ihat Simois -, hie eft Sigeia tellus \ 
liic fteterat Priami regia celfa fenis. 

And what does Dr. Johnfon fay on this occafion ? 
Nothing. And what does Mr. Farmer fay on thi*- 
occafion ? Nothing. 

In Love's Labour Loft, which, bad as it is, is 
afcribed by Dr. Johnfon himielf to Shakefpeare, 
there occurs the word thrafonical^ another argu- 
ment which feems to ftiew that he was not unac- 
quainted 



APPENDIX. 391 

qnainted with the comedies of Terence ; not to 
mention, that the charader of the fchoolmafter 
in the fame play could not poflibly be written 
by a man who had travelled no further in Latin 
than hicy hac^ hoc. 

In Henry the Sixth we meet with a quotation from 
Virgil, 

Tantnene animis ccekftihus ira ? 

But this, it feems, proves nothing, any more than 
the lines from Terence and Ovid, in the Taming 
of the Shrew i for Mr. Farmer locks on Shake- 
fpeare's property in the comedy to be extremely 
difputable; and he has no doubt but Henry the 
Sixth had the fame author with Edward the Thirds 
which hath been recovered to the world in Mr. 
Capell's prolufions. 

If any play in the coUedlion bears internal evi- 
dence of Shakefpeare*s hand, we may fairly give 
him 'Timon of Athens. In this play we have a 
familiar quotation from Horace, 

Ira furor hrevis efi, 

I will not maintain but this hemiftich may 
be found in Lilly or Udall; or that it is not 
in the Valace of Pkafure^ or the Englifh Plutarch ; 
or that it was not originally foilted in by the 

D d 2 players : 



39^ APPENDIX. 

players : It ftands, however, in the play of l^ifmn 
cf Athens. 

The world in general, and thofe v/ho purpofe 
to comment on Shakefpeare in particular, will owe 
much to Mr. Farmer, whofe refearches into our old 
authors throw a luftre or^ many paffages, the obfcu- 
rity of which mufl elfe have been impenetrable. 
No future Upton or Gildon will go further than 
North's tranflation for Shakefpeare's acquaintance 
with Plutarch, or balance between Dares Phrygius, 
and the 'Troye hooke of Lydgate. I'he Hyfiorie cf Ham^ 
hlet^ in Mack letter^ will for ever fuperfede Saxo 
Grammaticus •, tranfiated novels and ballads will, 
perhaps, be allov/ed the fources of Romeo, Lear, 
and the Merchant of Venice j and Shakefpeare him- 
ielf, however unlike Bayes in other particulars, 
will ftand convidled of having tranfverfed the profe 
of Holingfhead ; and at the fame time, to prove 
" that his ftudies lay in his own language," the 
tranflations of Ovid are determined to be the pro- 
duction of Heywood. 

" That his Jludies were moll demonftratively Con- 
" fined to nature, and his own language,'* I readily 
allow : but does it hence follow that he was fo de - 
plorably ignorant of every other tongue, living or 
dead, that he only " remembered, perhaps, enough 
^' gf his fchoolboy learning to put the hig, hag, hog, 

^' into 



\ 



APPENDIX. 393 

*f into the mouth of Sir H. Evans ; and might pick 
*' np in the writers of the time, or the courfe of his 
^' converfation, a familiar plirafe or two of French 
" or Italian ?" In Shakeipeare's plays both thefe 
iaft languages are plentifully fcattered : but then, 
we are told, they might be impertinent additions of 
the players. Undoubtedly they might : but there 
they are, and, perhaps, few of the players had 
much more learning than Shakelpeare. 

Mr. Farmer himfelf v/ill allow that Shakefpeare 
began to learn Latin : I v/iil allow that his Jludies 
lay in Englifh : but why infill that he neither made 
any progrefs at fchool; nor improved his acquifitions 
there ? The general encomiums of Suckling, Den- 
ham, Milton, i^c. on his native genius *, prove 
nothing •, and Ben Jonfon's celebrated charge of 
Shakeipeare's fiJiall Latin^ and lefs Greek -f, feems 

abfolutely 

* Mr. Farmer clofes thefe general teftimonies of Shakefpeare*s 
having been only indebted to nature, by faying, " He came 
*' out of her hand, as fame one elfe exprejjes it, like Pallas 
" out of Jove's head, at full growth and mature." It is whim- 
iical enough, that this fame one elfe, whofe expreffion is here 
quoted to countenance the general notion of Shakefpeare's want 
of literature, fhould be no other than myfelf Mr. Farmer 
' does not chufe to mention where he met with this expreffion of 
fame one elfe ; 2xAfome one elfe does not chufe to mention where 
he dropt it. 

f In defence of the various reading of this pafTage, given in. 
the preface to the Iaft edition of Shakefpeare, " fmall Latin, and 
" 710 Greek," Mr. Farmer tells us, that " it was adopted above 
«' 3 century ago by V7. Towers, in a panegyrick on Cartwright." 
Surely, Towers having faid that Cartwright had no Greek, is no 
proof that Ben Jonfon faid fo of Shakefpeare. 



594 APPENDIX. 

abfolutely to decide that he had fome knowledge of 
both; and if we may judge by our own time, a 
man, who has any Greek, is feldom without a very 
competent Ihare of Latin ; and yet fuch a man is 
very likely to ftudy Plutarch in Englifh, and to 
read tranllations of Ovid. 



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