TERENCE’S ANDRIAN.




                               TERENCE’S

                                ANDRIAN,

                        A Comedy, in Five Acts,

                            TRANSLATED INTO

                             ENGLISH PROSE,

                                  WITH

                    CRITICAL AND EXPLANATORY NOTES,

                                   BY

                          W. R. GOODLUCK, JUN.

   The Athenian and Roman plays were written with such a regard to
   morality, that Socrates used to frequent the one, and Cicero the
   other.
                                                 SPECTATOR; No. 446.


                                LONDON:

           PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND BROWN,
                            PATERNOSTER-ROW.

                                 1820.




                                LONDON:
              Printed by W. CLOWES, Northumberland-court.




                                PREFACE.


If an apology for the following translation cannot be found in the work
itself, it would be to little purpose to insert it in the Preface. I
have attempted to present to the public the most celebrated dramatist
of ancient Rome, in such a dress as may enable the English reader,
learned and unlearned equally, to relish, in his own language, the
beauties of this great poet. Though the original is composed in verse,
I have employed prose in this translation, because the verse of Terence
approaches so very nearly to prose, that in prose only is it possible
to adhere faithfully to the words, and particularly to the style of
our author; as we have in our language no measure of verse at all
corresponding with that used by Terence.

To the learned reader, the number of the subjoined Notes may, perhaps,
seem excessive; and the minuteness of description which characterizes
many of them, may appear unnecessary; but, though this work was not
written professedly for the schools, yet the Notes were not composed
entirely without a view to the instruction of the young student;
and, as translations are supposed to be made chiefly for the use of
the unlearned, who cannot be expected to be much acquainted with the
manners and customs of the ancients; I thought it better, if I erred
at all, to err on the safe side, and to repeat to some of my readers
something that they knew before, rather than run the risk of permitting
any one of them to remain unacquainted with it altogether. A French
translator of Terence, the learned and indefatigable Madame Dacier,
has judged a still greater number of Notes than I have subjoined in
this work, necessary to elucidate various passages in her translation
of the play of the Andrian, and of Suetonius’s Life of our author. One
remark may be added on this subject; it must be considered that many
of the explanatory Notes affixed to the play of the Andrian, tend to
the general elucidation of the various passages in the remaining five
plays of Terence; and I think I may venture to hope, that the Notes in
general, will, in many instances, be found useful in the exposition of
many passages in the Latin and Greek classics.

I am induced to publish this play singly, with a view of ascertaining
whether a translation of Terence’s comedies on this plan may meet with
sufficient approbation to encourage the appearance of the remaining
five plays: as I propose to give a complete translation of the works of
this celebrated author, if the present attempt should be honoured with
a favourable reception. I may say, in the words of Terence himself,

    “Favete, adeste æquo animo, et rem cognoscite,
     Ut pernoscatis, ecquid spei sit reliquum,
     Posthac quas faciet de integro comœdias,
     Spectandæ, an exigendæ sint vobis priùs.”

     And now deign to favour the play with your attention, and
     give it an impartial hearing, that you may know what is
     in future to be expected from the poet, and whether the
     comedies that he may write hereafter, will be worthy to
     be accepted, or to be rejected by you.――_Prologue to the
     Andrian._

These lines contain very strong presumptive proof that the Andrian
was Terence’s first production; and, for that reason, it has been
selected for this essay, and not on account of its being supposed to be
superior to his other plays: for so great, so steady was the equality
of this poet’s genius, that no critic of eminence, ancient or modern,
could ever yet venture to assign to any one of his plays a claim of
superiority to the rest. The celebrated Scaliger has asserted that
there were not more than _three_ faults in the _six_ plays of Terence.

The ancients seem to have been least partial to the Step-mother:
Volcatius says,

     “Sumetur Hecyra sexta ex his fabula.”

The Step-mother is reckoned the last of the six. This was the only
piece written by our author, in which the plot was single; and the want
of a double plot, which the Romans then preferred, was, doubtless, the
reason of its being postponed to Terence’s other productions.

The force of custom has given authority to an erroneous disposition of
these comedies, which are usually printed in the following order:

  The Andrian,
  The Eunuch,
  The Self-tormentor,
  The Brothers,
  The Step-mother,
  The Phormio.

They were written and represented at Rome as follows:

                     Year of Rome.
  The Andrian             587
  The Step-mother         588
  The Self-tormentor      590
  The Eunuch              592
  The Phormio             592
  The Brothers            593

The original cause of the order of these plays being changed by the
ancient transcribers is not known; though it is conjectured that they
classed them thus, that the four plays taken from Menander might be
placed together. This leads me to mention Terence’s close imitation of
the Greek dramatists, amounting, in fact, to a partial translation of
them; and it is necessary to bear this in mind during a perusal of his
writings, lest, under the impression that this author wrote originally
in _Latin_, the reader should forget that the scene is always laid in
Greece; that the persons of the drama are not Romans but Greeks; and
that, consequently, the manners, customs, names, and things, there
mentioned, are almost uniformly Grecian.

Roman literature had emerged from obscurity just previous to the times
of Terence: that sun, which was destined to shed its splendour over all
future ages, was then scarcely risen from the darkness which shrouded
it during the rude infancy of the Roman commonwealth; and even for
a long period after Rome assumed the highest rank in the scale of
nations. Livius Andronicus, the first poet of eminence, wrote dramatic
pieces in the year of Rome 513. He was followed by Nævius, Ennius,
Tegula, and Cæcilius; next comes Pacuvius, who excelled in tragedies;
then follow Plautus and his cotemporaries Plautius, Aquilius, and
Acutius; and, lastly, Terence brought the Latin drama to its highest
perfection about the year of Rome 590, eighty years after its first
appearance. But, in Greece, dramatic writing had attained the highest
pitch of excellence under Menander, more than one hundred years before;
and the Latin poets copied most closely from the refined writings of
the Greeks. At that time, and for many years after, Greek was almost as
much in fashion at Rome, as French has of late years been in fashion
in England: it formed a necessary branch of a polite education; and
many of the Romans quitted their native city, and resided in Greece
a considerable time, for the purpose of perfecting themselves in the
Greek language, and enjoying the advantage of associating themselves
with the philosophers and other learned men of that country.

Our author, therefore, complied with the taste of the age, and no man
succeeded better in making the Greek poets speak Latin. He copied
chiefly from Menander: the four entire plays, the Andrian, the Eunuch,
the Self-tormentor, and the Brothers, were taken from the writings of
that great poet, as were also some parts of the Step-mother and the
Phormio.

Terence’s great rival in dramatic fame was Marcus Accius Plautus, who
flourished a few years before him; and has left twenty comedies replete
with wit and spirit. To draw a comparison at length, between these
great poets, would be an undertaking by no means suited to a Preface;
and far more arduous than I should at present feel prepared to enter
into: the learned Madame Dacier very happily observes, “Il est certain
qu’il n’y a rien de plus difficile que cette espèce de critique qui
consiste à juger des hommes, et à faire voir les avantages qu’ils
ont les uns sur les autres. Il y a tant d’égards à observer; tant de
rapports à unir, tant de différences à peser, que c’est une chose
presque infinie; et il semble que pour s’en bien acquitter, il faudroit
avoir une esprit supérieur à ceux dont on juge, comme il est nécessaire
que la main qui se sert d’une balance soit plus forte que les choses
quelle veut peser.”――It is certain, that no species of criticism is
more difficult than that which consists of judging generally of an
author; and in pointing out those excellencies, in which he is superior
to other writers. There are so many points to be considered, so many
similarities to be compared with each other, so many differences to
be weighed against each other, that the task is almost endless; and
appears to require talents superior to those of the person whose
productions are to be criticised; as the hand which holds the balance
ought to possess a power more than equal to the weight of whatever is
to be placed in it.

Most of those critics who have undertaken to compare Terence and
Plautus with each other, have, on a general estimate of their merits,
decided in favour of Terence; though in one or two particular
excellencies they allow Plautus to have surpassed him. They judged
Plautus to be chiefly recommended by his humour, by the amusing variety
of his incidents, by the liveliness and spirit of his action, and by
his rich, agreeable, and witty style. Terence they praise for his
delicacy of expression, his unequalled skill in the delineation of
characters and of manners, and in the construction and management of
his plots, for the well-timed introduction of his incidents, and for
the evenness, purity, and chasteness of his style.

    _Terentio non similem dices quempiam._――AFRANIUS.

    _Terence stands unrivalled._

One natural defect the critics have charged Terence with, and only one,
_viz_., the want of what the ancients called the _vis comica_, which is
usually interpreted _humour_: and, in this requisite, they judged him
to have fallen short of Plautus. One fault also is objected against
him, being no less than a direct breach of the rules of dramatic
writing; which is, that he makes the actors directly address the
audience in their assumed characters; as in the fourth scene of the
first act of the Andrian, and also in the last scene of the last act.
Against the latter charge, no defence can be made, except we urge the
authority of custom; but the imputation against our author of a want
of humour may, in a great measure, be repelled.

The _vis comica_ of the ancients, though we translate it by the word
_humour_, which approaches nearer to its true signification than any
other expression in our language, could not have been exactly the same
kind of humour with that of our own times; which has been usually
considered as peculiar to the English drama, and has not even a name
in any other modern language. If we allow the _vis comica_, or comic
force, to be divided into two species, namely, the _vis comica_ of
the action, and the _vis comica_ of the dialogue, (and is there not
a humour of action, as there is of words?) we must also allow, that
Terence’s writings, far from being devoid of the humour of action, are
replete with it throughout. The Eunuch, particularly, abounds with this
kind of humour, especially in the eighth scene of the fourth act, where
Thraso forms his line of battle; and, in the fifth, sixth, and seventh
scenes of the last act, between Laches, Pythias, and Parmeno, which are
specimens of the _vis comica of action_, not inferior to many of the
witty Plautus’s attempts to exhibit this species of dramatic manners.

I shall conclude by giving the reader some account of the rise and
conduct of dramatic entertainments at Rome: which cannot be so
conveniently introduced in the Notes. A knowledge of these things is
very necessary to a right understanding of Terence’s plays; as his mode
of writing could not be reconciled to the modern method of dramatic
representation, which differs very materially from the ancient manner.

About an hundred and twenty years before regular plays were first
exhibited at Rome, a sort of entertainment called _ludi scenici_ was
introduced there by the Etrurians: it consisted merely of dancing to
the sound of a pipe. This simple amusement was soon improved upon,
and the dancers began also to speak. They spouted a species of rude
satirical verses, in which they threw out rough jests, raillery, and
repartee against each other: these were called Saturnian verses, or
Satires, from their god Saturn: hence this name was afterwards applied
to poetry composed for the purpose of lashing vice or folly. The
Saturnian verses, set to music, and accompanied by dancing, continued
a favourite diversion, till they were superseded by regular plays
about the year of Rome 515. The places where they were represented,
(called theatra, theatres, from a Greek word signifying _to see_,)
were originally tents, erected in the country, under the shade of
some lofty trees: afterwards they performed in temporary buildings
formed of wood: one of these is recorded to have been large enough to
contain eighty thousand spectators. Pompey the Great erected the first
permanent theatre: it was built of stone, and of a size sufficient to
accommodate forty thousand persons.

Some critics have objected against Terence, that he is guilty of an
impropriety in making one actor speak very frequently without being
heard by another; and introducing two or more persons on the stage,
who, though they are both of them seen by the spectators, yet do not
perceive each other for a considerable space of time. These objections
are easily answered when we reflect on the magnificent size of the
Roman theatres. An ingenious writer of the last century has given a
very clear explanation of this subject: I shall give it in his own
words.

“Some make this objection, that in the beginning of many scenes, two
actors enter upon the stage, and talk to themselves a considerable time
before they see or know one another; which they say is neither probable
nor natural. Those that object to this don’t consider the great
difference between our little scanty stage and the large magnificent
Roman theatres. Their stage was sixty yards wide in the front, their
scenes so many streets meeting together, with all by-lanes, rows,
and alleys; so that two actors coming down two different streets or
lanes, couldn’t be seen by each other, though the spectators might
see both; and sometimes, if they did see each other, they couldn’t
well distinguish faces at sixty yards’ distance. Besides, upon several
accounts, it might well be supposed when an actor enters upon the stage
out of some house, he might take a turn or two under the porticoes,
cloisters, or the like, (that were usual at that time,) about his door,
and take no notice of an actor’s being on the other side of the stage.”

Of course, the extensive size of the Roman theatres made it impossible
that the natural voice of the actors should be distinctly heard at the
distance they stood from the audience: to remedy this inconvenience,
they had recourse to a sort of mask, which covered both the head and
the face: it was called _persona_, from two Latin words, signifying to
_sound through_: the mouth of this mask was made very large, and with
thin plates of brass they contrived to swell the sound of the voice,
and, at the same time, to vary its tones, so as to accord with the
passions they wished to express. Instructions in the use of these masks
formed an essential and important branch of the education of a Roman
actor.

The plays represented at Rome were divided into two classes: 1. the
palliatæ, 2. the togatæ. In the first, the characters of the piece were
entirely Grecian: in the latter, they were entirely Roman. The second
class, _viz._, the togatæ, were subdivided into the prætextatæ, when
the play was tragedy: the tabernariæ, when the scenes lay in low life:
the atellanæ, or farces: and the trabeatæ, when the scene lay in the
camp: they had likewise mimes and pantomimes.

The chorus consisted sometimes of one person, though generally of
several, who stood on the stage during the representation, at first,
without any share in the action of the piece: some suppose that they
were there partly in the character of spectators: if this conjecture
be correct, Terence may be excused for making the actors address them.
Their business seems originally to have been singing between the pauses
in the action, and delivering moral reflections on what was represented
on the stage: afterwards they were incorporated with the action, as a
species of attendants. These theatrical appendages were at last laid
aside, because it was thought to appear improbable, that intrigues,
which usually are to be kept secret, should be carried on in their
presence.

Flutes were played during the whole time of the performance, and the
chief musician beating time, directed the actors when they were to
raise, and when they were to depress their voices. Sometimes one person
recited the words, and another performed the action of the same part.
The tibiæ, or flutes, were of various kinds: the best account of the
manner in which they were used is given us by Madame Dacier, as follows:

“The performers played on two flutes during the whole of the
representation. They stopped the vents of one of them with the right
hand: that flute was, therefore, called right handed: the other was
stopped with the left, and called a left-handed flute. In the first,
there were but a few holes; which occasioned it to give a deep, bass
sound: in the other, the holes were very numerous: this flute sounded a
sharp shrill note.

“When a comedy was accompanied by two flutes of a different sound,
it was said to be played _Tibiis imparibus dextris et sinistris,
unequal flutes, right and left handed_. When the flutes were of the
same sound, it was said to be played _Tibiis paribus dextris, with
equal right-handed flutes_, if they were of a deep sound: and _Tibiis
paribus sinistris, with equal left-handed flutes_, when they were of
a sharp shrill sound. The right-handed flutes were called Lydian; the
left-handed Tyrian; the unequal Phrygian; as were also the crooked
flutes.”

The tragic and comic actors were distinguished from each other by the
covering of their feet. The tragedians wore a sort of boot, called
cothurnus, with a very high heel; which was intended to give them a
commanding, majestic appearance. The comedians wore a light shoe, or
slipper, called soccus.

The Romans appear to have been very partial to dramatic entertainments.
Magistrates were appointed to exhibit them: and the people even
devoted to the theatre part of that time which is usually allotted to
more weighty concerns: as their plays were usually performed in the
day-time. Magnificent theatres were erected at the public expense; and
sometimes even by private individuals. A description of one of these
buildings is recorded by Pliny. The scenes were divided into three
partitions, one above another. The first consisted of one hundred
and twenty marble pillars; the second of the same number of pillars,
most curiously covered and ornamented with glass: the third of the
same number of pillars, covered with gilded tablets. Three thousand
brazen statues filled up the spaces between the pillars. This theatre
would contain eighty thousand persons. Independently of the ordinary
representations, plays were performed on all solemn occasions: at the
public feasts and games, and at the funerals of eminent citizens. No
opportunity seems to have been neglected to introduce this species
of amusement at Rome: no nation, ancient or modern, appears to have
cultivated the drama with greater diligence than the Romans; and few
have had more success. It is our misfortune, that so few specimens
of the excellence of their dramatists have descended to our times.
Let us, however, admire and profit by what we have. The writings of
Terence and of Plautus present us with an inexhaustible source of
pleasure and instruction. As long as virtuous and humane sentiments do
not lose their appeal to the heart; as long as purity, delicacy of
expression, wit, and spirit, and well-wrought fable continue to satisfy
the judgment; so long the names of Terence and of Plautus must remain
immortal.




                                 THE

                           LIFE OF TERENCE,

                      Translated from the Latin

                                  OF

                   CAIUS SUETONIUS TRANQUILLUS[1].


Publius Terentius[2], born at Carthage, in Africa, was slave to
Terentius Lucanus, a Roman senator: who, justly appreciating his great
abilities, gave him not only a polite education, but also his liberty
in the earlier part of his life. He is supposed by some to have been
made a prisoner of war: but Fenestella[3] refutes this opinion; as
[4]Terence was born after the conclusion of the second Punic war, and
died before the commencement of the third: neither, if he had been made
a captive by the [5]Numidians, or Getulians, could he have fallen into
the hands of the Romans, as there was no commerce between the Italians
and Africans, before the destruction of Carthage.

Terence lived in the closest intimacy with many of the Roman nobility,
but particularly with Scipio Africanus[6] and Caius Lælius[7], who were
about his own age[8], though Fenestella makes Terence rather older
than either of them. Portius[9] commemorates their friendship in the
following verses:

    Dum lasciviam nobilium; et fucosas laudes petit:
    Dum Africani vocem divinam inhiat avidis auribus:
    Dum ad Furium se cœnitare et Lælium pulchrum putat:
    Dum se amari ab hisce credit, crebro in Albanum rapi
    Ob florem ætatis suæ, ipsus sublatis rebus ad summam
    Inopiam redactus est.
    Itaque e conspectu omnium abiit in Græciam in terram ultimam.
    Mortuus est in Stymphalo Arcadiæ oppido: nihil Publius
    Scipio profuit, nihil ei Lælius, nihil Furius;
    Tres per idem tempus qui agitabant nobiles facillime,
    Eorum ille opera ne domum quidem habuit conductitiam,
    Saltem ut esset, quo referret obitum domini servulus.

“While Terence joins in the pleasures of the nobles, and seeks their
empty praise; while he listens with delight to the divine voice of
Africanus; and thinks himself most happy to sup with Lælius and with
Furius[10]; while he believes them to be his true friends; while he is
frequently carried to the [11]Albanian villa; his property is spent,
and he himself reduced to the greatest poverty: on which account he
goes, avoiding all mankind, to the most distant parts of Greece, and
dies at Stymphalus[12], a town in Arcadia: his three great friends
Scipio, Lælius, and Furius, give him no assistance; nor even enable him
to hire a house; that there might, at least, be a place where his slave
might announce to Rome his master’s death.”

He wrote six comedies: when the first of them, the Andrian, was
presented to the Ædiles[13]; he was desired to read it to Cærius[14];
he accordingly repaired to his house, and found him at supper;
and, being meanly dressed, was seated on a stool near the couch of
Cærius[15], where he commenced the reading of his play; but Cærius
had no sooner heard the first few lines than he invited the poet to
sup with him; after which, the play was read, to the great admiration
of Cærius, who betowed on the author the most unbounded applause. The
other five comedies met with equal commendation from the Romans, though
Volcatius[16], in his enumeration of them, says,

                 Sumetur Hecyra sexta ex his fabula.

The Step-mother is reckoned the last of the six.

The Eunuch was acted twice in one day[17]; and the author received
for it a higher price than was ever paid for any comedy before that
time, viz., eight thousand sesterces[18]: on account of the magnitude
of the sum, it is mentioned in the title of that play. Varro[19] even
prefers the opening scenes of the Brothers of Terence to the same part
in Menander. The report that Terence was indebted to Scipio and Lælius,
with whom he was so intimate, for parts of his comedies, is well
known; and he himself scarcely seems to have discouraged the assertion,
as he never seriously denies it: witness the Prologue to the Brothers:

    Nam quod isti dicunt malevoli, homines nobiles
    Eum adjutare, assidueque una scribere:
    Quod illi maledictum vehemens existimant,
    Eam laudem hic ducit maximam, cum illis placet
    Qui vobis universis, et populo placent:
    Quorum opera in bello, in otio, in negotio
    Suo quisque tempore usus est sine superbia.

“And as for what those malicious railers say[20], who assert that
certain noble persons assist the poet, and very frequently write with
him, what they think a reproach, he considers as the highest praise;
that he should be thought to please those who please you, and all
Rome; those who have assisted every one in war, and peace, and even in
their private affairs, with the greatest services; and yet have been
always free from arrogance.” It is likely, that he might wish, in some
measure, to encourage this idea, because he knew that it would not be
displeasing to Scipio and Lælius: however, the opinion has gained
ground, and is strongly entertained even to the present day. Quintus
Memmius[21], in an oration in his own defence, says,

     Publius Africanus, qui a Terentio personam mutuatus, quæ domi
     luserat ipse, nomine illius in scenam detulit.――――

    “Publius Africanus, who borrowed the name of Terence for those
     plays which he composed at home for his diversion.――――”

Cornelius Nepos[22] asserts, that he has it from the very first
authority, that Caius Lælius being at his country-house at [23]Puteoli,
on the first of March[24], and being called to supper by his wife at an
earlier hour than usual, requested that he might not be interrupted;
and afterwards coming to table very late, he declared that he had
scarcely ever succeeded better in composition than at that time; and,
being asked to repeat the verses, he read the following from the
Self-tormentor, Act IV, Scene III.

    Satis pol proterve me Syri promissa huc induxerunt
    Decem minas quas mihi dare pollicitus est, quod si is nunc me
    Deceperit, sæpe obsecrans me, ut veniam, frustra veniet:
    Aut, cum venturam dixero, et constituero, cum is certe
    Renunciârit; Clitiphon cum in spe pendebit animi
    Decipiam, ac non veniam; Syrus mihi tergo pænas pendet.

“Truly this Syrus has coaxed me hither, impertinently enough, with his
fine promises that I should receive ten minæ; but, if he deceives me
this time, ’twill be to no purpose to ask me to come again; or, if I
promise, and appoint to come, I’ll take good care to disappoint him.
Clitipho, who will be full of eager hope to see me, will I deceive, and
will not come; and Syrus’ back shall pay the penalty.”

Santra[25] thinks, that if Terence had required any assistance in
his comedies; he would not have requested it from Scipio and Lælius,
who were then extremely young[26]; but from [27]Caius Sulpicius
Gallus, a man of great learning, who also was the first person who
procured[28] the representation of comedies at the consular games or
from [29]Quintus Fabius Labeo; or from[30] Marcus Popilius Lænas,
two eminent poets, and persons[31] of consular dignity: and Terence
himself, speaking of those who were reported to have assisted him, does
not mention them as young men, but as persons of weight and experience,
who had served the Romans in peace, in war, and in private business.

After the publication of his six comedies, he quitted Rome, in the
thirty-fifth year of his age, and returned no more. Some suppose that
he undertook this journey with a view to silence the reports of his
receiving assistance from others in the composition of his plays:
others, that he went with a design to inform himself more perfectly of
the manners and customs of Greece.

Volcatius speaks of his death as follows:

    Sed ut Afer sex populo edidit comœdias
    Iter hinc in Asiam fecit: navim cum semel
    Conscendit, visus nunquam est. Sic vita vacat.

“Terence, after having written six comedies, embarked for Asia, and was
seen no more. He perished at sea.”

Quintus Consentius[32] writes, that he died at sea, as he was returning
from Greece, with one hundred and eight plays, translated from
Menander[33]. Other writers affirm, that he died at Stymphalus, a town
in Arcadia, or in Leucadia[34], in the consulate of[35] Cneus Cornelius
Dolabella and Marcus Fulvius Nobilior, and that his end was hastened
by extreme grief for the loss of the comedies which he had translated,
and some others which he had composed himself, and sent before him in a
vessel which was afterwards wrecked.

He is said to have been of a middle stature, well-shaped, and of a
dark complexion. He left one daughter, who was afterwards married to
[36]a Roman knight, and bequeathed to her a garden of [37]XX jugera,
near the Appian Way, and close to the [38]Villa Martis: it is therefore
surprising that Portius should write thus:

                                    ――――nihil Publius
    Scipio profuit, nihil ei Lælius, nihil Furius:
    Tres per idem tempus qui agitabant nobiles facillime,
    Eorum ille opera ne domum quidem habuit conductitiam:
    Saltem ut esset, quo referret obitum domini servulus.

“His three great friends, Scipio, Lælius, and Furius, give him no
assistance, nor even enable him to hire a house, that there might at
least be a place where his slave might announce to Rome his master’s
death.”

Afranius[39] prefers Terence to all the comic poets, saying, in his
Compitalia[40].

                  Terentio non similem dices quempiam.

                 “Terence is without an equal.”

But Volcatius places him not only after [41]Nævius, [42]Plautus, and
[43]Cæcilius, but even after [44]Licinius. [45]Cicero, in his ΛΕΙΜΩΝ,
writes of Terence thus,

    Tu quoque qui solus lecto sermone, Terenti,
    Conversum, expressumque Latina voce Menandrum
    In medio populi sedatis vocibus effers,
    Quicquid come loquens, ac omnia dulcia dicens.

“And thou, also, O Terence, whose pure style alone could make Menander
speak the Latin tongue, thou, with the sweetest harmony and grace, hast
given him to Rome.”

Also Caius Julius Cæsar[46],

    Tu quoque tu in Summis, O dimidiate Menander,
    Poneris et merito, puri sermonis amator,
    Lenibus atque utinam scriptis adjuncta foret vis
    Comica ut æquato virtus polleret honore,
    Cum Græcis neque in hac despectus parte jaceres,
    Unum hoc maceror, et doleo tibi deesse Terenti.

“And thou, also, O thou half Menander, art justly placed among the most
divine poets, for the purity of thy style. O would that humour had kept
pace with ease in all thy writings; then thou wouldest not have been
compelled to yield even to the Greeks; nor could a single defect have
been objected to thee. But, as it is, thou hast this great defect, and
this, O Terence, I lament.”




                              THE ANDRIAN,

                               A Comedy,

                                ACTED AT

                       THE MEGALESIAN GAMES[47];

          IN THE [48]CURULE ÆDILATE OF [49]MARCUS FULVIUS AND
            MARCUS GLABRIO[50]; BY THE COMPANY[51] OF LUCIUS
               AMBIVIUS TURPIO, AND LUCIUS ATTILIUS[52],
                              OF PRÆNESTE.

  FLACCUS, the Freedman of Claudius, composed the Music for
     [53]equal Flutes, right and left handed.

  [54]It is taken from the Greek, and was published during the
     Consulate of Marcus Claudius Marcellus, and Cneus Sulpicius
     Galba[55].

          Year of Rome          587
          Before Our Saviour    162
          Author’s Age           27




                             THE ARGUMENT.


  There were in Athens two brothers, CHREMES and PHANIA. The
     former making a voyage to Asia, left his infant daughter,
     named PASIBULA, under the protection of PHANIA; who, to
     avoid the dangers of a war which shortly after convulsed
     the GRECIAN States, quitted Athens, and embarked also for
     ASIA with the infant PASIBULA, designing to rejoin his
     brother CHREMES. His vessel being wrecked off Andros, he
     was received and hospitably entertained by an inhabitant
     of the island, where he died, bequeathing his niece to his
     host, who generously educated her with his own daughter
     CHRYSIS; changing her name from PASIBULA to GLYCERA. After
     some years he also died, and his daughter CHRYSIS, finding
     herself reduced to poverty, and avoided by her relations,
     removed to Athens, accompanied by her adopted sister
     GLYCERA, or PASIBULA. Here, supported by her industry, she
     lived for some months in a virtuous seclusion; but after
     that period became acquainted with several young Athenians
     of good family, whose visits she admitted, hoping perhaps
     to accomplish an advantageous marriage either for GLYCERA
     or for herself. She was seduced by pleasure, and her
     conduct from that time became very far from irreproachable.
     Meanwhile a young man, named PAMPHILUS, is accidently
     introduced at her house, sees GLYCERA, is enamoured of
     her; she returns his affections, and they are privately
     betrothed; a short time previous to the death of CHRYSIS,
     which happens about three years after her removal to
     Athens. CHREMES, whom we left in Asia, returned to Athens,
     and became the father of another daughter, who was called
     PHILUMENA; he had long before formed a friendship with
     SIMO, the father of PAMPHILUS. PAMPHILUS being a youth of
     great worth and high reputation, CHREMES wishes to bestow
     on him the hand of his daughter PHILUMENA. Here the play
     opens. A report of the connexion between PAMPHILUS and
     GLYCERA reaching the ears of CHREMES, he breaks off the
     marriage. SIMO conceals this, and to try the truth of the
     rumour, proposes PHILUMENA again to his son, and desires
     him to wed her instantly. Apprized by his servant DAVUS
     of his father’s artful stratagem, PAMPHILUS professes
     his willingness to marry, thinking by this measure to
     disappoint it; but he defeats himself, for from his ready
     consent, CHREMES concludes the rumour false, and renews the
     treaty to the great embarrassment of PAMPHILUS, which, with
     the artifices DAVUS employs to extricate him, form the most
     diverting scenes of the play. However, when the affairs of
     PAMPHILUS and DAVUS are reduced to extremity, and a breach
     between father and son appears inevitable on account of the
     marriage with GLYCERA, and the refusal to accept PHILUMENA,
     a stranger called CRITO, most opportunely arrives from
     Andros, and discovers GLYCERA to be PASIBULA, the daughter
     of CHREMES, who willingly confirms her the wife of
     PAMPHILUS, and bestows PHILUMENA, his other daughter, on
     CHARINUS, a friend of PAMPHILUS, to the great satisfaction
     of all parties.




                           DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.


  SIMO, an old man, the father of Pamphilus.
  SOSIA, the freedman of Simo.
  PAMPHILUS, the son of Simo.
  DAVUS, servant to Pamphilus.
  CHARINUS, a young man, the friend of Pamphilus.
  BYRRHIA, servant to Charinus.
  CHREMES, an old man, the friend of Simo.
  CRITO, a stranger, from the island of Andros.
  DROMO, a servant.
  GLYCERA, the Andrian.
  MYSIS, her maid.
  LESBIA, a midwife.

                                 MUTES.

  ARCHILLIS, Glycera’s nurse.
  SERVANTS belonging to Simo.

       *       *       *       *       *

           The Scene lies in ATHENS, in a street between the
                      houses of Simo and Glycera.

                     The TIME is about nine hours.




                             PROLOGUE[56].


Our poet, when first he bent his mind to write, thought that he
undertook no more than to compose Comedies which should please the
people. But he finds himself not a little deceived; and is compelled
to waste his time in making Prologues; not to narrate the plot of his
play, but to answer the snarling malice of an older poet[57]. And
now, I pray you, Sirs, observe what they object against our Author:
Menander wrote the [58]Andrian and Perinthian: he who knows one of them
knows both, their plots are so very similar; but they are different
in dialogue, and in style. He confesses that whatever seemed suitable
to the Andrian, he borrowed from the Perinthian, and used as his own:
and this, forsooth, these railers carp at, and argue against him
that Comedies thus mixed are good for nothing. But, in attempting
to shew their wit, they prove their folly: since, in censuring him,
they censure Nævius, Plautus[59], Ennius, who have given our author a
precedent for what he has done: and whose careless ease he would much
rather imitate than their obscure correctness. But henceforth let them
be silent, and cease to rail; or I give them warning, they shall hear
their own faults published. And now deign to favour the play with your
attention; and give it an impartial hearing, that you may know what
is in future to be expected from the poet, and whether the Comedies
that he may write hereafter, will be worthy to be accepted, or to be
rejected by you.




                              THE ANDRIAN.




                                 ACT I.


                                SCENE I.

            SIMO, SOSIA, _and Slaves, carrying Provisions_.

_Simo._ [60]Carry in those things, directly. (_Exeunt Slaves._) Do you
come hither Sosia; I have something to say to you.

_Sosia._ You mean, I suppose, that I should take care that these
provisions are properly drest.

_Simo._ No; it’s quite another matter.

_Sosia._ In what else can my skill be of any service?

_Simo._ There is no need of your skill in the management of the affair
I am now engaged in; all that I require of you is faithfulness and
secrecy; qualities I know you to possess.

_Sosia._ I long to hear your commands.

_Simo._ You well know, Sosia, that from the time when I first bought
you as my slave;[61] even from your childhood until the present moment;
I have been a just and gentle master: you served me with a free spirit;
and I gave you freedom; [62]as the greatest reward in my power to
bestow.

_Sosia._ Believe me, Sir, I have not forgotten it.

_Simo._ Nor have you given me any cause to repent that I did so.[63]

_Sosia._ I am very glad, Simo, that my past, and present conduct has
been pleasing to you; and I am grateful for your goodness in receiving
my poor services so favourably: but it pains me to be thus reminded of
the benefits you have conferred upon me, as it seems to upbraid me with
having forgotten them.[64] Pray, Sir, let me request to know your will
at once.

_Simo._ You shall; but first I must inform you that my son’s marriage,
which you expect to take place, is only a feigned marriage.

_Sosia._ But why do you make use of this deceit?

_Simo._ [65]You shall hear every thing from the beginning; by which
means you will learn my son’s course of life, my intentions, and the
part I wish you to take in this affair. When my son, Pamphilus, arrived
at man’s estate,[66] of course he was able to live more according to
his own inclination: for, until a man has attained that age, his
disposition does not discover itself, being kept in check either by his
tutor, or by bashfulness, or by his tender years.

_Sosia._ That is very true.

_Simo._ Most young men attach themselves chiefly to one particular
pursuit; such, for instance, as breeding horses, keeping hounds, or
frequenting the schools of the philosophers.[67] He did not devote
himself entirely to any one of these: but employed a moderate portion
of his time in each; and I was much pleased to see it.

_Sosia._ As well you might, for I think that every man, in the conduct
of his life, should adhere to this precept, “AVOID EXCESS.”

_Simo._ This was his way of life; he bore patiently with every one,
accommodated himself to the tempers of his associates; and fell in
with them in their pursuits; avoided quarrels; and never arrogantly
preferred himself before his companions. Conduct like this will ensure
a man praise without envy, and gain many friends.

_Sosia._ This was indeed a wise course of life; for in these times[68],
flattery makes friends; truth, foes.

_Simo._ Meantime, about three years ago, a certain woman, exceedingly
beautiful, and in the flower of her age, removed into this
neighbourhood; she came from the Island of Andros[69]; being compelled
to quit it by her poverty and the neglect of her relations[70].

_Sosia._ I augur no good from this woman of Andros.

_Simo._ At first she lived chastely, and penuriously, and laboured
hard, managing with difficulty to gain a livelihood[71] with the
distaff and the loom: but soon afterwards several lovers made their
addresses to her[72]; promising to repay her favours with rich
presents; and as we all are naturally prone to pleasure, and averse to
labour, she was induced to accept their offers; and at last admitted
all her lovers without scruple. It happened that some of them with
much persuasion prevailed on my son to accompany them to her house.
Aha! thought I, he is caught[73]: he is certainly in love with her. In
the morning I watched their pages going to her house and returning; I
called one of them; Hark ye, boy, prithee tell me who was the favourite
of Chrysis, yesterday? For this was the Andrian’s name.

_Sosia._ I understand you, Sir.

_Simo._ I was answered that it was Phædrus, or Clinia, or Niceratus;
for all these were her lovers at that time: well, said I, and what
did Pamphilus there! oh! he paid[74] his share and supped with the
rest. Another day I inquired and received the same answer; and I was
extremely rejoiced that I could learn nothing to attach any blame to my
son. Then I thought that I had proved him sufficiently; and that he was
a miracle of chastity:――for he who has to contend against the example
of men of such vicious inclinations, and can preserve his mind from its
pernicious influence, may very safely be trusted with the regulation
of his own conduct. To increase my satisfaction, every body joined as
if with one voice in the praise of Pamphilus, every one extolled his
virtues, and my happiness, in possessing a son endued with so excellent
a disposition. In short, this his high reputation induced my friend
Chremes to come to me of his own accord, and offer to give his daughter
to Pamphilus with a large dowry[75]. I contracted [76]my son, as I was
much pleased with the match, which was to have taken place on this very
day.

_Sosia._ And what has happened to prevent it?

_Simo._ You shall hear: within a few days of this time our neighbour
Chrysis died.

_Sosia._ O happy news! I was still fearful of some mischief from this
Andrian.

_Simo._ Upon this occasion my son was continually at the house with the
lovers of Chrysis, and joined with them in the care of her funeral;
meantime he was sad, and sometimes would even weep. Still I was pleased
with all this; if, thought I, he is so much concerned at the death of
so slight an acquaintance, how would he be afflicted at the loss of one
whom he himself loved, or at my death. I attributed every thing to his
humane and affectionate disposition; in short, I myself, for his sake,
attended the funeral, even yet suspecting nothing.

_Sosia._ Ah! what has happened then?

_Simo._ I will tell you. The corpse is carried out; we follow: in the
mean time, among the women who were there[77], I saw one young girl,
with a form so――――

_Sosia._ Lovely, without doubt.

_Simo._ And with a face, Sosia, so modest, and so charming, that
nothing can surpass it; and as she appeared more afflicted than the
others who were there, and so pre-eminently beautiful[78], and of so
noble a carriage, I approach the women who were following the body[79],
and inquire who she is: they answer, The sister of the deceased.
Instantly the whole truth burst upon me at once: hence then, thought I,
proceed those tears; this sister it is, who is the cause of all his
affliction.

_Sosia._ How I dread to hear the end of all this!

_Simo._ In the mean time the procession advances; we follow, and arrive
at the tomb[80]: the corpse is placed on the pile[81], and quickly
enveloped in flames; they weep; while the sister I was speaking of,
rushed forward in an agony of grief toward the fire; and her imprudence
exposed her to great danger. Then, then it was, that Pamphilus, half
dead with terror, publicly betrayed the love he had hitherto so well
concealed: he flew to the spot, and throwing his arms around her with
all the tenderness imaginable; my dearest Glycera, cried he, what are
you about to do? Why do you rush upon destruction? Upon which she threw
herself weeping upon his bosom in so affectionate a manner, that it was
easy enough to perceive their mutual love.

_Sosia._ How! is this possible!

_Simo._ I returned home, scarcely able to contain my anger; but yet
I had not sufficient cause to chide Pamphilus openly; as he might
have replied to me, What have I done amiss, my father? or how have I
offended you? of what am I guilty? I have preserved the life of one
who was going to throw herself into the flames: I prevented her: this
would have been a plausible excuse.

_Sosia._ You consider this rightly, Sir; for if he who has helped to
save a life is to be blamed for it; what must be done to him who is
guilty of violence and injustice?

_Simo._ The next day Chremes came to me, and complained of being
shamefully used, as he had discovered for a certainty that Pamphilus
had actually married this strange woman[82]. I positively denied that
this was the case, and he as obstinately insisted on the truth of it:
at last I left him, as he was absolutely resolved to break off the
match.

_Sosia._ Did you not then rebuke Pamphilus?

_Simo._ No: there was nothing yet so flagrant as to justify my rebuke.

_Sosia._ How so, Sir, pray explain?

_Simo._ He might have answered me thus: you yourself, my father, have
fixed the time when this liberty must cease; and the period is at hand
when I must conform myself to the pleasure of another: permit me then,
I beseech you, for the short space that remains to me, to live as my
own will prompts me.

_Sosia._ True. What cause of complaint can you then find against him?

_Simo._ If he is induced by his love for this stranger, to refuse to
marry Philumena in obedience to my commands, that offence will lay him
open to my anger; and I am now endeavouring by means of this feigned
marriage, to find a just cause of complaint against him: and, at the
same time, if that rogue Davus has any subtle scheme on foot, this
will induce him to bring it forward now, when it can do no harm; as
I believe that rascal will leave no stone unturned in the affair;
though more for the sake of tormenting me, than with a view to serve or
gratify my son.

_Sosia._ Why do you suspect that?

_Simo._ Why? because of a wicked mind one can expect nothing but
wicked intentions[83]. But if I catch him at his tricks――However, ’tis
in vain to say more: if it appear, as I trust it will, that my son
makes no objection to the marriage, I have only to gain Chremes, whom
I must prevail upon by entreaty; and I have great hopes that I shall
accomplish it. What I wish you to do is, to assist me in giving out
this marriage for truth, to terrify Davus, and to watch the conduct
of my son, what he does; and what course he and his hopeful servant
resolve upon.

_Sosia._ It is enough, Sir; I will take care to obey you. Now, I
suppose, we may go in.

_Simo._ Go, I will follow presently[84].

                                                          [_Exit_ SOSIA.


                               SCENE II.

                              SIMO, DAVUS.

_Simo._ My son, I have no doubt, will refuse to marry; for I observed
that Davus seemed terribly perplexed just now, when he heard that the
match was to take place: but here he comes[85].

_Davus._ (_not seeing Simo._) I wondered that this affair seemed
likely to pass off so easily! and always mistrusted the drift of my
old master’s extraordinary patience and gentleness; who, though he was
refused the wife he wished for, for his son, never mentioned a word of
it to us, or seemed to take any thing amiss.

_Simo._ (_aside_.) But now he will, as you shall feel, rascal.

_Davus._ His design was to entrap us while we were indulging in an
ill-founded joy, and fancied ourselves quite secure. He wished to take
advantage of our heedlessness, and make up the match before we could
prevent him: what a crafty old fellow!

_Simo._ How this rascal prates[86]!

_Davus._ Here is my master! he has overheard me! I never saw him!

_Simo._ Davus.

_Davus._ Who calls Davus?

_Simo._ Come hither, sirrah.

_Davus._ (_aside._) What can he want with me?

_Simo._ What were you saying?

_Davus._ About what, Sir?

_Simo._ About what, Sir? The world says that my son has an intrigue.

_Davus._ Oh! Sir, the world cares a great deal about that, no doubt.

_Simo._ Are you attending to this, Sir?

_Davus._ Yes, Sir, certainly.

_Simo._ It does not become me to inquire too strictly into the truth of
these reports. I shall not concern myself in what he has done hitherto;
for as long as circumstances allowed of it, I left him to himself:
but it is now high time that he should alter and lead a new life.
Therefore, Davus, I command, and even entreat, that you will prevail on
him to amend his conduct.

_Davus._ What is the meaning of all this discourse?

_Simo._ Those who have love intrigues on their hands are generally very
averse to marriage.

_Davus._ So I have heard.

_Simo._ And if any of them manage such an affair after the counsel of a
knave, ’tis a hundred to one but the rogue will take advantage of their
weakness, and lead them a step further, from being love-sick to some
still greater scrape or imprudence.

_Davus._ Truly, Sir, I don’t understand what you said last.

_Simo._ No! not understand it!

_Davus._ No. I am not Œdipus[87] but Davus.

_Simo._ Then you wish that what I have to say should be explained
openly and without reserve.

_Davus._ Certainly I do.

_Simo._ Then, sirrah, if I discover that you endeavour to prevent my
son’s marriage by any of your crafty tricks; or interfere in this
business to show your cunning; you may rely on receiving a few scores
of lashes, and a situation in the grinding-house[88] for life: upon
this token, moreover, that when I liberate you from thence, I will
grind in your stead. Is this plain enough for you, or don’t you
understand yet?

_Davus._ Oh, perfectly! you come to the point at once: you don’t use
much circumlocution, i’faith.

_Simo._ Remember! In this affair above all others, if you begin
plotting, I will never forgive it.

_Davus._ Softly, worthy Sir, softly, good words I beg of you.

_Simo._ So! you are merry upon it, are you, but I am not to be imposed
upon. I advise you, finally, to take care what you do: you cannot say
you have not had fair warning.

                                                                [_Exit._


                             SCENE III[89].

                                 DAVUS.

In truth, friend Davus, from what I have just heard from the old man
about the marriage, I think thou hast no time to lose. This affair
must be [90]handled dexterously, or either my young master or I must
be quite undone. Nor have I yet resolved which side to take; whether
I shall assist Pamphilus, or obey his father. If I abandon the son,
I fear his happiness will be destroyed: if I help him, I dread the
threats of the old man, who is as crafty as a fox. First, he has
discovered his son’s intrigue, and keeps a jealous eye upon me, lest
I should set some scheme a-foot to retard the marriage. If he finds
out the least thing, I am undone[91], for right or wrong, if he once
takes the whim into his head, he will soon find a pretence for sending
me to grind in the mill for my life; and, to crown our disasters, this
Andrian, Pamphilus’s wife or mistress, I know not which, is with child
by him: ’tis strange enough to hear their presumption. I think their
[92]intentions savour more of madness than of any thing else: boy or
girl, say they, the child shall be brought up[93]. They have made up
among them too, some story or other, to prove that she is a citizen of
Athens[94]. Thus runs the tale. Once upon a time there was a certain
old merchant[95], who was shipwrecked upon the island of Andros, where
he afterwards died, and the father of Chrysis took in his helpless
little orphan, who was this very Glycera. Fables! for my part I don’t
believe a word of it: however, they themselves are vastly pleased with
the story. But here comes her maid Mysis. Well, I’ll betake myself to
the Forum[96], and look for Pamphilus: lest his father should surprise
him with this marriage before I can tell him any thing of the matter.

                                                                [_Exit._


                               SCENE IV.

                                 MYSIS.

[97]I understand you, Archillis: you need not stun me with the same
thing over so often: you want me to fetch the midwife Lesbia: in
truth, she’s very fond of the dram-bottle, and very headstrong; and I
should think she was hardly skilful enough to attend a woman in her
first labour.――However, I’ll bring her.――――Mark how [98]importunate
this [99]old baggage is to have her fellow-gossip, that they may
tipple together. Well, may Diana grant my [100]poor mistress a happy
minute; and that Lesbia’s want of skill may be shewn any where
rather than here. But what do I see? here comes Pamphilus, seemingly
half-distracted, surely something is the matter. I will stay and see
whether this agitation is not the forerunner of some misfortune.


                                SCENE V.

                         PAMPHILUS, MYSIS[101].

_Pam._ Heavens! is it possible that any human being, much less a
father, could be guilty of an action like this?

_Mysis._ (_aside._) What can be the matter?

_Pam._ By the faith of gods and men, if ever any one was unworthily
treated, I am. He peremptorily resolved that I should be married on
this very day. Why was not I informed of this before? Why was not I
consulted?

_Mysis._ (_aside._) Miserable woman that I am! what do I hear?

_Pam._ And why has Chremes changed his mind, who obstinately persisted
in refusing me his daughter, after he heard of my imprudence[102]? Can
he do this to tear me from my dearest Glycera? Alas! if I lose her,
I am utterly undone. Was there ever such an unfortunate lover?――was
there ever such an unhappy man as I am? Heavens and earth! will this
persecution never end? Shall I never hear the last of this detested
marriage? How have I been insulted; how have I been slighted! First
of all, the match is agreed on, every thing is prepared, then I am
rejected, now I am courted again. I cannot, for the soul of me,
discover the reason of all this; however, I shrewdly suspect that this
daughter of Chremes is either hideously [103]ugly, or that something is
amiss in her; and so, because he can find no one else to take her off
his hands, he comes to me.

_Mysis._ (_aside._) Bless me! I’m almost frightened out of my senses.

_Pam._ But what shall I say of my father’s behaviour? Ought an affair
of such consequence to be treated so lightly? Meeting me just now
in the Forum, Pamphilus, said he, you are to be married to-day, get
ready, make haste home; it seemed as if he said, go quickly and hang
yourself. I stood amazed and motionless; not one single word could I
pronounce; not one single excuse could I make, though it had been ever
so absurd, false, or unreasonable: I was quite speechless. If any one
were to ask me now, what I would have done, if I had known of this
before? I answer, I would have done any thing in the world to prevent
this hateful marriage; but now what course can I take? A thousand
cares distract my mind. On one side, I am called upon by love and
my compassion for this unfortunate: on the other by their continued
importunities for my marriage with Philumena, and a fear of offending
my father, who has been hitherto so indulgent to me, and complied
with my every wish; and can I now oppose his will? Alas! I am still
wavering; I can resolve upon nothing.

_Mysis._ Unhappy wretch that I am. I dread how this wavering may end
at last; but now it is of the utmost consequence either that I should
say something to him respecting my mistress, or that he should see her
himself; for the least thing in the world may turn the scale, while
the mind is in suspense.

_Pam._ Whose voice is that? Oh, Mysis, welcome.

_Mysis._ Oh! Sir, well met.

_Pam._ How is your mistress?

_Mysis._ Do you not know? she is in labour[104], and her anguish
is increased tenfold at the thought of this being the day formerly
appointed for your marriage. Her greatest fear is lest you should
forsake her.

_Pam._ Heavens! could I have the heart even to think of so base an
action? Can I deceive an unfortunate who has intrusted her all to me?
and whom I have always tenderly loved as my wife? Can I suffer that
she, who has been brought up in the paths of modesty and virtue, should
be exposed to want; [105]and perhaps even to dishonour? I never can, I
never will permit it!

_Mysis._ Ah! Sir, if you were your own master, I should fear nothing;
but I dread lest you should not be able to withstand your father’s
commands.

_Pam._ Do you then think me so cowardly, so ungrateful too, so inhuman,
and so cruel, that neither our intimate connexion, nor love, nor even
shame can prevail upon me, or influence me to keep my promise?

_Mysis._ I am sure of this; she does not deserve that you should forget
her.

_Pam._ Forget her! O Mysis, Mysis, the last words that Chrysis spoke to
me, are still engraved upon my heart, already at the point of death;
she calls for me; I approach; you all retire: we are alone with her:
she speaks thus,――My dear Pamphilus; you see the youth and beauty of
this dear girl; I need not tell you how little these endowments are
calculated to secure either her property or her honour; I call upon
you then, by the pledge of this hand you now extend to me, and by the
natural goodness of your disposition[106]; by your plighted faith,
and by her helpless situation, I conjure you not to forsake her.
If ever I have loved you as my brother, if ever she has obeyed you
as her husband, take her, I implore you, as your wife; be to her a
[107]friend, a guardian, a parent; to you I confide our little wealth;
in your honour I put all my trust.――She placed the hand of Glycera
in mine, and expired. I received the precious gift, and never will I
relinquish it.

_Mysis._ Heaven forbid you ever should!

_Pam._ But why are you abroad at this time?

_Mysis._ I am going for the midwife.

_Pam._ Make haste then; and Mysis, do you hear; say not a word to your
mistress about this marriage, lest that should increase her sufferings.

_Mysis._ I understand you, Sir.




                         END OF THE FIRST ACT.




                                ACT II.


                                SCENE I.

                        CHARINUS, BYRRHIA[108].

_Char._ What is it you tell me, Byrrhia; is she then to be married to
Pamphilus; and is the wedding to take place even on this very day?

_Byrr._ It is even so, Sir.

_Char._ How do you know it?

_Byrr._ From Davus, whom I met just now in the Forum.

_Char._ Alas! the measure of my wretchedness is now full: my soul has
hitherto fluctuated between my hopes and fears; but now all hope is
lost, I sink wearied and care-worn into utter despair.

_Byrr_[109]. I beseech you, O Charinus, [110]to wish for something
possible, since what you now wish for is impossible!

_Char._ I can wish for nothing but Philumena!

_Byrr._ Ah! how much wiser you would be, if instead of talking thus,
which only serves to nourish [111]a hopeless passion; you would
endeavour to subdue, and banish it entirely from your heart.

_Char._ How readily do those who are in health give good counsel to the
diseased! if you were in my situation you would not talk thus.

_Byrr._ Well, well, as you please, Sir.

_Char._ But I see Pamphilus coming this way. I am resolved to attempt
every thing before I am quite undone.

_Byrr._ What is he going about now?

_Char._ I will entreat even my rival himself, I will implore him, I
will tell him of my love. I trust I shall be able to prevail upon him,
at least to postpone his marriage for a few days; meantime I hope
something may happen in my favour.

_Byrr._ That something is nothing at all.

_Char._ What think you, Byrrhia; shall I speak to him?

_Byrr._ Why not? that even if you can obtain nothing, you may make him
think, at least, that Philumena will find a pressing gallant in you, if
he marries her[112].

_Char._ Get away, rascal, with your base suspicions.


                               SCENE II.

                     CHARINUS, BYRRHIA, PAMPHILUS.

_Pam._ Ha! Charinus, I hope you are well, Sir.

_Char._ Oh, Pamphilus!――――I come to implore from you hope, safety,
counsel, and assistance.

_Pam._ Truly, I myself have need of counsel, and assistance too: but
what is this affair?

_Char._ You are to be married to-day!

_Pam._ Ay, they say so.

_Char._ If you are, Pamphilus, you see me to-day for the last time[113].

_Pam._ Why so?

_Char._ Alas! I dread to speak it! tell him, Byrrhia, I beseech you.

_Byrr._ I will.

_Pam._ What is it, speak?

_Byrr._ My master loves Philumena to distraction, and hears that she is
betrothed to you.

_Pam._ Truly, he and I are not of the same mind then; but prithee now,
Charinus, tell me, has nothing passed between you and Philumena?

_Char._ Ah! Pamphilus, nothing.

_Pam._ I wish with all my soul there had!

_Char._ I implore you then, by all the ties of friendship, and tried
affection, never to wed her: this is my first request.

_Pam._ Never! if I can help it, believe me.

_Char._ But if you cannot grant me this, and earnestly desire the
match――――

_Pam._ I desire it!

_Char._ At least defer it for a day or two, that I may go from here,
and avoid the misery of being obliged to witness it.

_Pam._ Listen to me, Charinus; I think it is by no means the part of
a man of honour to claim thanks, where none are due to him. I am more
desirous to avoid Philumena, than you are to obtain her.

_Char._ My dearest friend! your words have given me new life.

_Pam._ Now, if either you, or Byrrhia here, can do any thing; for
[114]Heaven’s sake do it; contrive, invent, and manage if you can, that
she may be given to you; I meantime will do all in my power to prevent
her from being given to me.

_Char._ I am satisfied.

_Pam._ But here comes Davus, most opportunely; I rely entirely upon his
advice.

_Char._ [_to Byrrhia._] But as for you, you can tell me nothing but
what I don’t care to hear. Begone, sirrah.

_Byrr._ With all my heart, Sir.

                                                               [_Exit._


                               SCENE III.

                      CHARINUS, PAMPHILUS, DAVUS.

_Davus._ Heaven! what a world of good news do I bring! but, [_to
himself_,] where shall I find Pamphilus? that I may relieve him from
his present fears, and fill his soul with joy.

_Char._ He seems to be very much pleased at something; he’s mighty
merry.

_Pam._ Oh! ’tis nothing at all: he does not yet know of this
unfortunate affair.

_Davus._ [_to himself._] For if he has heard that he is to be married
to-day.

_Char._ Do you hear what he says?

_Davus._ I’ll be bound he’s at this very moment half distracted, and
seeking for me all over the town: but where shall I find him, or which
way shall I now direct my course.

_Char._ Why do you not speak to him?

_Davus_ [_going._] Well, I’ll go.

_Pam._ Stop, Davus.

_Davus._ Who calls me? Oh! Pamphilus! I was seeking for you every
where. Charinus, too! well met, Sir; I wanted both of you.

_Pam._ Oh Davus, I am quite undone.

_Davus._ But hear me.

_Pam._ I am quite ruined!

_Davus._ I know all your fears.

_Char._ And as for me, my very existence is at stake!

_Davus._ I know your affair also[115].

_Pam._ A marriage is――――

_Davus._ I know that also.

_Pam._ This very day too.

_Davus._ You stun me; I tell you I know every thing already. You,
Pamphilus, fear lest you should be compelled to marry Philumena; and
you, Charinus, lest you should not marry her.

_Char._ Exactly so.

_Pam._ ’Tis the very thing.

_Davus._ Then, Sir, in that very thing there is no danger at all; take
my word for it.

_Pam._ For heaven’s sake, Davus, if you can do so, rid me of my fears
at once.

_Davus._ I banish them all; Chremes does not intend to give you his
daughter at present.

_Pam._ How do you know that?

_Davus._ I am sure of it. Your father took me aside just now, and told
me that he meant to have you married to-day; and added a great deal
more, which I have not time to tell you at present. Immediately I run
at full speed to the Forum, to look for you; that I may acquaint you
with all this. Not being able to find you, I get upon an eminence,
look around; you are no where to be seen. By chance I descry among the
crowd, Charinus’ servant Byrrhia; I inquire of him; he knows nothing of
you: how vexatious! quite perplexed; I begin to consider what course to
take next. Meantime as I was returning and thinking the business over,
a suspicion struck me. How’s this! thought I; no extra provision made,
the old man gloomy, and the marriage to take place so suddenly! these
things don’t appear consistent.

_Pam._ Well, what then?

_Davus._ I then go directly to Chremes’ house; but when I get there,
not a soul [116]do I see before the door; every thing is quite still
and quiet, [117]which pleased me not a little.

_Char._ Very good.

_Pam._ Go on.

_Davus._ I stay there a little while, but no one goes in or out; I come
quite up to the door, and look in, [118]but can see no bridemaid; no
preparations[119]; all was silent.

_Pam._ I understand: a good sign!

_Davus._ Can all these things be consistent with a marriage?

_Pam._ I think not, Davus.

_Davus._ Think not! do you say? you must be blind, Sir, not to see it:
it is an absolute certainty: besides all this, as I was returning I met
Chremes’ servant, who was carrying home some herbs, and as many little
[120]fishes for the old man’s supper, as might have cost an obolus.

_Char._ Friend Davus, you have been my deliverer to-day.

_Davus._ Not at all, Sir, this does not benefit you.

_Char._ How so? why Chremes certainly will not give his daughter to
Pamphilus.

_Davus._ Nonsense; as if it followed of course that he must give her
to you, because he does not give her to him: if you do not take care;
if you do not use all your endeavours, to gain the support of the old
man’s friends, you will be no nearer your wishes than ever[121].

_Char._ You advise me well; I will go about it, though in truth this
hope has often deceived me before. Farewell.

                                                               [_Exit._


                               SCENE IV.

                           PAMPHILUS, DAVUS.

_Pam._ What then can my father mean? why does he thus dissemble?

_Davus._ I will tell you, Sir. He knows very well that it would be
unreasonable in him to be angry with you, because Chremes has refused
to give you his daughter, nor can he take any thing amiss, before he
knows how your mind stands affected towards the marriage; but if you
should refuse to marry, all the blame will be thrown on you, and a
grievous disturbance created.

_Pam._ What then, shall I bear it patiently, and consent to marry?

_Davus._ He is your father, Pamphilus, and it would not be easy to
oppose him: Glycera moreover is [122]destitute and friendless, and
he would speedily find some pretext or other to banish her from the
city[123].

_Pam._ Banish her.

_Davus._ Ay, directly.

_Pam._ Oh Davus, what shall I do?

_Davus._ Tell him that you are ready to marry.

_Pam._ Ah!

_Davus._ What’s the matter?

_Pam._ Can I tell him so?

_Davus._ Why not?

_Pam._ Never.

_Davus._ Be advised, Sir, tell him so.

_Pam._ Do not attempt to persuade me to it.

_Davus._ Consider the result.

_Pam._ Torn for ever from my Glycera, I should be wedded to another.

_Davus._ You are mistaken, Sir, listen to me: your father, I expect,
will speak to you to this effect. Pamphilus, ’tis my will that you
should be married to-day. I am ready, Sir; you shall answer: how can he
then complain of you? All his plans on which he places so much reliance
will be rendered abortive, and entirely frustrated by this reply; which
you may very safely make; as it is beyond a doubt that Chremes will
persist in refusing you his daughter; therefore do not let the fear
of his changing his [124]mind, prevent you from following my advice.
Tell your father that you are willing to marry; that when he seeks a
cause of complaint against you, he may not be able to find any. As
to the hopes you indulge, that no man will give his daughter to you,
on account of this imprudent [125]connexion that you have formed; I
will soon convince you of their fallacy; for believe me, your father
would rather see you wedded to poverty itself, than suffer you to
continue your present intimacy with Glycera; but if he thinks you are
indifferent, he will grow unconcerned, and look out another wife at his
leisure; meantime something may happen in your favour.

_Pam._ Do you think so?

_Davus._ There is no doubt of it.

_Pam._ Be cautious whither you lead me.

_Davus._ Pray, Sir, say no more about it.

_Pam._ I will act as you advise me; but we must take care that he knows
nothing of the child, for I have promised to bring it up.

_Davus._ [126]Is it possible?

_Pam._ She entreated me to promise this as a pledge that I would not
forsake her.

_Davus._ Enough. I will be on my guard; but here comes your father:
take care that you do not appear melancholy or embarrassed.


                                SCENE V.

                        DAVUS, PAMPHILUS, SIMO.

_Simo._ [_to himself._] I am come back again, to see what they are
about; or what course they resolve upon.

_Davus._ He is fully persuaded that you will refuse to marry, and has
been ruminating by himself in some corner, where he has prepared an
harangue with which he expects to embarrass you: therefore take care to
be on your guard.

_Pam._ I will, Davus, if I can.

_Davus._ Do but tell him that you are ready to marry in obedience to
his wishes, and you’ll strike the old gentleman dumb: he’ll not mention
the subject again, I’ll answer for it.


                               SCENE VI.

                    SIMO, DAVUS, PAMPHILUS, BYRRHIA.

_Byrr._ [_to himself._] My master has given me orders to lay all other
business aside and watch Pamphilus to-day, that I may discover how he
acts touching this marriage; so [127]as I saw the old man coming this
way, I followed him. Oh! here is Davus, and his master with him: now
then to execute my commission.

_Simo._ Oh! there they are together.

_Davus._ [_aside to Pamphilus._] Now, Sir, be on your guard.

_Simo._ Pamphilus.

_Davus._ [_aside to Pamphilus_.] Turn round suddenly, as if you had not
perceived him.

_Pam._ Ha! my father.

_Davus._ [_aside._] Acted to the life.

_Simo._ I intend, (as I told you before), to have you married to-day.

_Byrr._ [_aside._] Now for my master’s[128] sake, I dread to hear his
answer.

_Pam._ You shall not find me tardy in obeying your commands, Sir,
either on this, or any other subject.

_Byrr._ [_aside._] Ha! I am[129] struck dumb. What did he say?

_Simo._ You do your duty, when you meet my wishes with a ready
compliance.

_Davus._ [_aside to Pam._] Was I not right, Sir?

_Byrr._ [_aside._] From what I hear, I fancy my master has nothing
to do, but to provide himself with another mistress as soon as
possible[130].

_Simo._ Now, Pamphilus, go in immediately, that you may be ready when
you are wanted.

_Pam._ I go, Sir.

                                                               [_Exit._

_Byrr._ [_aside._] Is there no honour, no sincerity in any man? I find
the common proverb to be true. Every man loves himself best. I have
seen Philumena, and I remember that I thought her charming; in truth,
I cannot much blame Pamphilus, that he had rather wed her himself
than yield her to my master. Well, I’ll carry him an account of what
has passed. I suppose I shall receive an abundance of bad language in
return for my bad news[131].

                                                                [_Exit._


                               SCENE VII.

                              DAVUS, SIMO.

_Davus._ [_aside._] The old man thinks I have some scheme on foot, and
stay here now to play it off upon him.

_Simo._ Well, what says Davus?

_Davus._ Nothing, Sir, just at present.

_Simo._ Nothing? indeed!

_Davus._ Nothing at all.

_Simo._ But yet I expected something.

_Davus._ [_aside._] He [132]has missed his aim! I see this nettles him
to the quick.

_Simo._ Is it possible that for once you can speak truth?

_Davus._ Nothing can be easier.

_Simo._ Tell me then, does not this marriage very much distress my son,
on account of his partiality for this Andrian.

_Davus._ By Hercules, not at all: or if indeed he feels a slight
uneasiness for a day or two, you know it will not last longer than
that, for he has reflected on the subject, and sees it in its true
light, I assure you, Sir.

_Simo._ I commend him for it.

_Davus._ While circumstances allowed him, and while [133]his youth in
some measure excused him, I confess he did intrigue a little; but then
he took care to conceal it from the world: he was cautious, [134]as a
gentleman should be, not to disgrace himself by giving room for any
scandalous reports; but now as he must marry, he inclines his thoughts
to marriage.

_Simo._ Yet, he appeared to me, to be rather melancholy[135].

_Davus._ Not at all on that account, but he is a little vexed with you.

_Simo._ About what?

_Davus._ Oh! a mere trifle.

_Simo._ But what is it?

_Davus._ Nothing worth speaking of.

_Simo._ But tell me what it is?

_Davus._ He says you are too sparing of your purse.

_Simo._ Who? I?

_Davus._ You. My father, said he, has scarcely spent ten drachms for
the wedding supper[136]: does this look like the marriage of his son?
I cannot invite my companions even on such an occasion as this. Indeed,
Sir[137], I think you are too frugal: it is not well timed.

_Simo._ [_angrily._] Hold your tongue.

_Davus._ [_aside._] I’ve [138]ruffled him now!

_Simo._ I will take care that every thing is as it should be. Away!
[_Exit Davus._] What can all this be about? what can this crafty knave
mean? if there is any mischief on foot, this fellow is sure to be the
contriver of it.




                         END OF THE SECOND ACT.




                                ACT III.


                                SCENE I.

             MYSIS, SIMO, DAVUS, LESBIA[139], GLYCERA[140].

_Mysis._ Indeed, Lesbia, what you say is very true: one scarcely ever
meets with a constant lover.

[_Simo to Davus._] This girl belongs to Glycera! Ha! Davus?

_Davus._ Yes.

_Mysis._ But as for Pamphilus――――

_Simo._ [_aside._] What’s that?

_Mysis._ He has kept his promise.

_Simo._ [_aside._] Ha!

_Davus._ [_aside._] Would to Heaven that he were deaf, or that she were
dumb.

_Mysis._ For girl, or boy, he has given orders that the child shall be
brought up[141].

_Simo._ O Jupiter! what do I hear? it is all over, if what she says be
truth.

_Lesbia._ What you tell me, is a proof of a good disposition.

_Mysis._ His is most excellent; but now let us go, lest we should be
wanted before we arrive.

_Lesbia._ I follow you.

                                                         [_They go in._

_Davus._ [_aside._] Here’s a pretty disaster! how shall I be able to
remedy this evil?

[_Simo to himself._] What’s this? Is he so mad? A foreigner too!
[142]phoo! now I see through it all! how simple I must be not to
discover it at first.

_Davus._ What does he say he has discovered?

_Simo._ Davus, that indefatigable contriver of mischief, is the chief
mover of all this roguery. They pretend the birth of a child, that they
may deter Chremes from the match.

[_Glycera cries out from the house._] O Juno Lucina, help! save me! I
beseech thee[143].

_Simo._ Hey day! what already! ha! ha! ha! how preposterous! the moment
she finds out that I am within hearing, she begins to cry out. Why,
Davus, your incidents are not well [144]timed at all, man.

_Davus._ Mine!

_Simo._ Have your actors forgotten their parts?

_Davus._ I don’t understand you really, Sir.

_Simo._ What an object of derision! what a laughing-stock [145]would
this rascal have made of me, if he had played off this fine trick in a
real marriage: but now he is shipwrecked whilst I am safe in port.


                               SCENE II.

                          LESBIA, SIMO, DAVUS.

_Lesbia._ Hitherto, Archillis, she has all the usual symptoms of doing
well. Now, first, let her be bathed[146]: and, after that, give her the
drink, in the quantities I directed. I shall return immediately. Upon
my life, Pamphilus has got a very pretty boy. Heaven grant he may live
to make a good man! for his father is a worthy youth, who would not
wrong this innocent young creature.

                                                                [_Exit._

_Simo._ (_to Davus._) Could any one, who knew you, doubt for a moment
that you were the contriver of this?

_Davus._ Contriver! of what, Sir?

_Simo._ The midwife never gave her orders about the treatment of her
patient while she was in the house: but, after she was come out of
doors, she bawls from the street to those within. O Davus, am I so
despised by you? or do I appear to you a fit subject to practise such
barefaced tricks upon? The least you could have done, was to have acted
cautiously, that I might, at any rate, seem to be feared, if I had
discovered it.

_Davus._ (_aside._) By Jupiter, he cheats himself: I am sure I’ve no
hand in it.

_Simo._ Did I not warn you? Did I not threaten you with the
consequences of this? But what care you? ’Twas all to no purpose! Do
you think that I really believe that Glycera has borne a child to
Pamphilus?

_Davus._ I see his error now, and know my cue.

_Simo._ Why don’t you speak?

_Davus._ What! not believe it! as if you had not been told of all this
before!

_Simo._ I told of it!

_Davus._ Ha! ha! Could you, of yourself, have discovered that this was
all pretended?

_Simo._ I am laughed at!

_Davus._ You must have been told of it: how else could you have
suspected any thing?

_Simo._ How! because I know you thoroughly, sirrah.

_Davus._ Meaning, Sir, I suppose, that this was done by my advice?

_Simo._ Certainly: there can’t be the least doubt of that.

_Davus._ I’m sorry, Simo, that you don’t yet know me better.

_Simo._ What! not know you?

_Davus._ The moment I begin to speak, you imagine that I am trying to
impose upon you.

_Simo._ Quite without cause, hey, Mr. Innocence?

_Davus._ Truly, at this rate, I shall hardly dare open my [147]mouth.

_Simo._ One thing I am sure of; that this child-birth is all
counterfeited.

_Davus._ You have discovered the truth; but, nevertheless, they will
not fail to lay a child at our door very shortly. I tell you, Sir,
beforehand, that this will happen, that you may be prepared for it; and
not afterwards say, that it was done by the advice and contrivance of
Davus. Indeed, Sir, I wish to remove the unjust opinion you entertain
of me.

_Simo._ How do you know this?

_Davus._ I heard it, and believe it to be true. Many circumstances
induce me to form this conjecture. First of all, this girl affirms that
she is with child by Pamphilus, which I have discovered to be false.
Now, finding that the marriage preparations are going forward in our
house[148], she sends her maid to fetch a midwife, and to provide a
child[149]: at the same time, thinking that unless they managed that
you should see a child, the marriage would not be impeded.

_Simo._ But, as you had discovered all this, why did you not directly
acquaint my son with their designs?

_Davus._ Why, Sir, who was it that prevailed on him to break off the
connexion? was it not Davus? We all know how madly he loved her:
but now, on the contrary, he prudently resolves to marry. In short,
Sir, leave this business to me: and do you persevere, (as you have
begun,) in forwarding the marriage: and, I trust, that Heaven will be
propitious to your endeavours!

_Simo._ Well, now, go in, and wait for me.


                               SCENE III.

                                 SIMO.

_Simo._ I am not exactly inclined to believe this fellow; and I know
not whether all that he has been telling me is true, neither do I much
care. Pamphilus has given me his promise; that I conceive to be of the
greatest consequence. Now, I will go to Chremes, and entreat him to
give his daughter to my son. If I prevail, what can I do better than
celebrate the marriage this very day? As for Pamphilus, if he refuse,
I have no doubt I can compel him to keep his promise[150]. And, most
opportunely for my purpose, I see Chremes himself coming this way.


                               SCENE IV.

                          SIMO, CHREMES[151].

_Simo._ Chremes, I am very glad to see you!

_Chremes._ O! Simo, I was looking for you.

_Simo._ And I for you.

_Chremes._ I meet you most opportunely. Several persons came to me,
and asserted, that you had told them, that my daughter was to be given
in marriage to your son to-day. For this reason, I came to see whether
they have lost their senses, or you your’s.

_Simo._ Hear me, Chremes; and you shall know, both what you come to
ask, and what I desire of you.

_Chremes._ I am all attention: pray proceed.

_Simo._ I conjure you, by the gods, and by our friendship, Chremes,
which has grown up with us from our earliest years, and strengthened
with our age: for the sake of your daughter, your only child: and, for
the sake of my son, whose welfare depends entirely upon you; I entreat
you to assist me in this affair: and renew your consent to the marriage
of our children.

_Chremes._ Ah, Simo, what need of prayers? as if it were necessary
to use so much entreaty with me, your friend. Do you think that I am
less your friend than when I offered my daughter to your son? If the
marriage will conduce to their mutual happiness, in Heaven’s name, send
for my daughter, and let them marry at once: but, if it be found, that
it would tend to the detriment, rather than to the advantage, of both;
I beseech you to consult their mutual benefit, without partiality, as
if you were the father of Philumena, and I of Pamphilus.

_Simo._ Truly, Chremes, it is with that view that I wish their union,
and entreat you to consent to it. Neither should I press it so
earnestly upon you, if the present aspect of the affair did not justify
my urgency.

_Chremes._ How so, pray?

_Simo._ Glycera and my son have quarrelled!

_Chremes._ Indeed! I hear you.

_Simo._ And the breach between them is so great, that I trust that we
shall be able entirely to detach Pamphilus from her society.

_Chremes._ Fables!

_Simo._ Upon my honour what I tell you is a fact.

_Chremes._ A fact, by Hercules, that I’ll explain to you. The quarrels
of lovers, is the renewal[152] of their love.

_Simo._ You are right, and that is the reason of my request: I am
anxious that we should seize this opportunity to prevent them, while
his love is weakened by her insolence and upbraidings. Let us then
hasten his marriage, before the artifices and hypocritical tears
of these creatures recal his love-sick mind to pity. And, I trust,
Chremes, that a well-assorted marriage, and the endearing society of
his wife, will enable my son to extricate himself easily from their
toils.

_Chremes._ You may view the affair in that light: but I cannot think,
either that Pamphilus could be faithful to my daughter, or that I could
bear to see him otherwise.

_Simo._ But how do you know that, without you put him to the trial.

_Chremes._ But to stake the happiness of my daughter on that trial, is
hard indeed.

_Simo._ Yet the most serious mischief, after all, can amount but to a
separation[153], which may the gods avert. But, on the other hand, if
he fulfils our wishes, consider the advantages that will result from
the marriage: in the first place, you will restore to your friend a
son: you will ensure to yourself, a dutiful son: and, to your daughter,
a faithful husband.

_Chremes._ What occasion for so many words: if you think this step so
very essential to reclaim your son, I should be sorry to throw any
impediment in your way.

_Simo._ O Chremes! you well deserve the love I’ve always borne you.

_Chremes._ But tell me――――

_Simo._ What?

_Chremes._ How did you learn their quarrel?

_Simo._ I was informed of it by Davus himself, who is the confidant
of all their counsels; and he persuaded me to do all in my power to
forward the marriage: would he have done so, do you think, had he not
known it to be consonant to my son’s wishes? But you yourself shall
hear what he says. Within, there: send Davus hither; but here he is, I
see him coming forth.


                                SCENE V.

                         SIMO, CHREMES, DAVUS.

_Davus._ I was coming to you, Sir.

_Simo._ What is it?

_Davus._ Why is not the bride brought? it grows late[154ᴬ].

_Simo._ (_to Chremes._) Do you hear him? I confess to you, Davus,
that, till lately, I have been fearful, that you would prove
perfidious[154ᴮ], like the common herd of slaves, and deceive me in
this intrigue of Pamphilus.

_Davus._ I do such a thing, Sir!

_Simo._ I did suspect it, and, on that very account, I concealed from
you what I will now disclose.

_Davus._ What is that, Sir?

_Simo._ You shall hear: for, at last, I begin to think that I may trust
you.

_Davus._ Ah, Sir, you now appreciate my character as you ought; you now
see what kind of man I am.

_Simo._ This marriage was all counterfeited.

_Davus._ Counterfeited!

_Simo._ Yes, for the purpose of proving you and my son, and to try how
you would receive the proposal.

_Davus._ How! is it possible?

_Simo._ Fact, I assure you.

_Davus._ I never could have fathomed this design; what a profound
contrivance! deep, Sir, very deep. (_bantering._)

_Simo._ But hear me out. After I sent you in, I most opportunely met my
friend Chremes.

_Davus._ (_aside._) How! what does he say? All is lost, I fear.

_Simo._ I related to him what you had just before related to me.

_Davus._ (_aside._) What do I hear!

_Simo._ I entreated him to give his daughter to Pamphilus, and, with
great difficulty, prevailed upon him to consent.

_Davus._ (_aside._) How unfortunate!

_Simo._ Ha! what’s that you say[155]?

_Davus._ How very fortunate, I say.

_Simo._ Chremes now consents to an immediate union.

_Chremes._ Well, I will now return home, and order every thing to be
prepared: when all is ready, I shall let you know.

                                                                [_Exit._


                               SCENE VI.

                              SIMO, DAVUS.

_Simo._ Now, I entreat you, Davus, since you have brought about the
marriage entirely by yourself――――

_Davus._ (_aside._) Yes, I have the credit of it entirely to myself. O!
curse my unlucky stars.

_Simo._――――to use all your influence with Pamphilus to induce him to
give up his present connexion with Glycera.

_Davus._ I’ll do all in my power, Sir.

_Simo._ You will find less difficulty now, while he is angry with his
mistress.

_Davus._ Be at ease, Sir, and rely on me.

_Simo._ About it then at once: but where is my son now?

_Davus._ I should not wonder if he were at home.

_Simo._ I will go and tell him what I have just told you.


                               SCENE VII.

                            DAVUS (_alone_).

I am utterly undone: why do I not at once go straight to the
grinding-house. ’Twill be to no purpose to implore mercy: I’ve
overturned everything. I have deceived the old man, and embarrassed
the son with a marriage he detests; which I have brought about this
very day, though the father considered the attempt as hopeless; and
Pamphilus as the greatest evil that could befal him. O! wise Davus, if
you had but been quiet, this mischief would never have happened. But,
see, here come Pamphilus himself! I’m a dead man. O! for some precipice
that I might dash myself down headlong!

                                                             [_Retires._


                              SCENE VIII.

                           DAVUS, PAMPHILUS.

_Pam._ Where is that villain who has ruined me?

_Davus._ (_aside._) I’m a lost man!

_Pam._ But I confess that I am justly punished for my imprudence: for
my want of common sense. Ought I to have confided my happiness to the
keeping of such a shallow slave? I only pay the penalty of my folly:
however, the rascal shall not escape the punishment he so richly
deserves.

_Davus._ (_aside._) If I escape this time, I think I never need know
fear again.

_Pam._ And what can I say to my father? Can I, who so lately promised
to marry, now refuse? with what face can I venture on such a step as
that? I know not what to do!

_Davus._ (_aside._) Nor I, though I am racking my brains to hit upon
something. I will tell him that I have thought of an expedient to put
off the marriage.

_Pam._ (_seeing Davus._) Oh!

_Davus._ I am seen!

_Pam._ Pray, good Sir, what have you to say for yourself? do you see
what a fine situation your rare advice has reduced me to?

_Davus._ But I will soon find an expedient to extricate you from it.

_Pam._ You will find an expedient!

_Davus._ Certainly, Sir.

_Pam._ Like your last, I suppose.

_Davus._ Better, I hope, Sir.

_Pam._ What trust can I put in such a rascal[156]? Can you remedy a
misfortune, which appears entirely ruinous? Ah! how foolishly I relied
on you, who, out of a perfect calm[157], have raised this storm, and
wrecked me on the rock of this accursed marriage! Did I not forewarn
you, that it would end thus?

_Davus._ You did, Sir, I confess.

_Pam._ What do you deserve[158]?

_Davus._ Death. But allow me a short time to recover myself, and I will
soon consider what is to be done?

_Pam._ Alas! I have not time to punish you as you deserve: the present
moment demands my attention to my own wretched affairs; and will not
suffer me to revenge myself on you.




                         END OF THE THIRD ACT.




                                ACT IV.


                                SCENE I.

                          CHARINUS. (_alone._)

[159]Is this credible, or to be mentioned as a truth, that any man
can be so innately worthless, as to rejoice at the miseries and
misfortunes of others, and even turn them to his own advantage? Ah! is
it possible that such baseness can exist? Those men have characters
of the very worst description, who make a scruple to deny a favour;
and are ashamed[160], or unwilling to give a downright refusal at
first; but who, when the time arrives for the performance of their
promises, necessarily expose themselves in their true colours; and,
though they may hesitate, yet, circumstances compel them to give an
absolute denial: and they will afterwards insult you with the most
impertinent speeches, as, Who are you? What are you to me? Why should
I resign my mistress to you? Every man for himself, Sir, is my maxim!
And, if you upbraid them with their want of honour, they are not at all
ashamed. Thus, when they ought to blush for their perfidy, they are
shameless! And, in the former case, when there was no cause for it,
they are shamefaced and timorous! But what shall I do? Shall I go and
expostulate with him on his treachery? I will! and overwhelm him with
reproaches: if any one tell me that no advantage will result from it: I
answer this, that I shall poison[161] his joy: and even that will yield
me some satisfaction.


                               SCENE II.

                      CHARINUS, PAMPHILUS, DAVUS.

_Pam._ Oh! Charinus, unless the gods assist us, my imprudence has
undone both you and myself!

_Char._ What! imprudence! So you found an excuse at last. You have
broken your promise, Sir.

_Pam._ How! at last?

_Char._ Do you think that any thing you can say will impose upon me a
second time?

_Pam._ What do you mean, Sir?

_Char._ As soon as I had told you of my love for Philumena, she pleased
you forsooth! Alas! fool that I was! I judged of your heart by my own.
I believed you to be sincere, and you deceived me.

_Pam._ You deceive yourself.

_Char._ Did you think that your happiness would not be complete, unless
you could delude an unfortunate lover by nourishing his vain hopes?
Well, take her[162].

_Pam._ I take her! Alas, you know not half the miseries that oppress
me; nor how my rascal Davus has embarrassed me with his pernicious
advice.

_Char._ No wonder! I suppose he follows the fine example you set him.

_Pam._ You would not talk thus if you knew me, or my love.

_Char._ (_ironically._) Oh! I know every thing: you have been in high
dispute with your father; and he is now most prodigiously angry with
you: and has been striving, in vain, all this day, to prevail upon you
to wed Philumena.

_Pam._ To prove how little you know of my misfortunes, learn, that no
marriage was expected to take place: neither did my father think of
constraining my inclinations.

_Char._ O no! ’tis your inclinations that constrain you.

_Pam._ Hear me: you do not yet understand――――

_Char._ I understand but too well that you are about to wed Philumena.

_Pam._ Why do you vex me thus[163]? hear me, I say: he never ceased
urging me to tell my father that I was ready to marry: he prayed, he
entreated, until, at length, I was induced to comply.

_Char._ Who did this?

_Pam._ Davus.

_Char._ Davus?

_Pam._ Davus has marred all.

_Char._ Why?

_Pam._ I know not, unless the gods, in their anger, decreed that I
should follow his pernicious counsel.

_Char._ Is this so, Davus?

_Davus._ It is indeed but too true.

_Char._ What can you say for yourself, you rascal? May the gods punish
you as you deserve! Answer me, Slave, I say, if his greatest enemies
had been desirous of entangling him in this marriage, what worse advice
could they possibly have given him?

_Davus._ I have been deceived, but am not disheartened.

_Char._ Indeed!

_Davus._ Our last plan was unsuccessful, but we’ll try another: unless
you think that because the first prospered so indifferently, the evil
cannot be remedied?

_Pam._ Oh, far otherwise! for I have no doubt, that if that wise head
of yours goes to work, instead of the one wife you have provided me
with already, you’ll find me two.

_Davus._ Pamphilus, I am your slave; and, as such, it is my duty to
exert myself to the utmost to serve you, to labour for you night and
day, and even to expose my life to peril, to do you service; but,
’tis your part, if any thing should happen cross, to pardon me: my
endeavours have been unsuccessful ’tis true; but, indeed, I did my
best; if you can do better, dismiss me.

_Pam._ Certainly; but first place me in the situation in which you
found me.

_Davus._ I will.

_Pam._ But it must be done directly.

_Davus._ Hist! Glycera’s door opens[164].

_Pam._ What can that signify to you?

_Davus._ I’m studying for an expedient.

_Pam._ How, at last!

_Davus._ And have no doubt but I shall soon find one.


                               SCENE III.

                   PAMPHILUS, CHARINUS, DAVUS, MYSIS.

_Mysis._ (_speaking to Glycera within._) I will directly, Madam;
wherever he may be, I’ll take care to find your dear [165]Pamphilus,
and bring him to you: only, my love, let me beg of you not to make
yourself so wretched.

_Pam._ Mysis!

_Mysis._ Who is that? Ah! Pamphilus! you come most opportunely.

_Pam._ What’s the matter?

_Mysis._ My mistress conjures you by the love you bear her, to come to
her instantly: she says, she shall be miserable till she sees you.

_Pam._ Heavens! I’m quite distracted: (_to Davus._) Villain! behold the
misery to which we are reduced: this is your work! she has heard of the
intended marriage, and therefore sends for me.

_Char._ All would have been quiet, if that fellow had but been quiet.

_Davus._ (_to Charinus._) Well done! if he does not rave enough of
himself, do try to make him worse.

_Mysis._ It is the rumour of your approaching marriage with Philumena
that makes her so miserable.

_Pam._ Mysis, I solemnly swear to you by all the gods, that I never
will forsake her; no, though my love for her should make all mankind
my foes, I never, never will forsake her. I wooed, and made her mine;
our souls accord; and I will hold no communion with those who wish to
separate us: death alone shall part us.

_Mysis._ Your words revive me, Pamphilus.

_Pam._ [166]The oracles of Apollo are not more true. I wish, that, if
it be possible, my father should not think that I throw any impediments
in the way of the marriage: if not, I will do what will be easily done,
tell him frankly that I cannot marry Chremes’s daughter. Charinus, what
do you think of me?

_Char._ That you are as wretched as I am.

_Davus._ I am studying for an expedient.

_Char._ (_to Pamphilus._) But you are constant and courageous[167].

_Pam._ (_to Davus._) I know what you would attempt[168].

_Davus._ I will both attempt, and accomplish it, rest assured, Sir.

_Pam._ But it must be done immediately.

_Davus._ It shall be done immediately.

_Char._ What is your plan?

_Davus._ (_to Charinus._) Do not deceive yourself, Sir; ’tis not for
you, but for my master that I am scheming.

_Char._ Enough.

_Pam._ What are you going to do? tell me[169].

_Davus._ I am afraid that this day will scarcely afford me sufficient
time for action: I am sure I have none to waste in talking: let me beg
you both to withdraw from this place: you hinder me from putting my
designs into execution.

_Pam._ I will go to my Glycera.

                                                                [_Exit._


                               SCENE IV.

                        DAVUS, CHARINUS, MYSIS.

_Davus._ (_to Charinus._) And you, Sir, where are you going?

_Char._ Shall I tell you the truth?

_Davus._ Oh! by all means. Now for a long story. (_aside._)

_Char._ What will become of me?

_Davus._ Heyday! modest enough this, i’faith! is it not sufficient that
I give you a respite by putting off the marriage?

_Char._ Yet, Davus――――

_Davus._ What now?

_Char._ Could I but wed her!

_Davus._ Absurd.

_Char._ If you can assist me, let me see you soon.

_Davus._ Why should I come, I can do nothing?

_Char._ Yet, if you should be able――――

_Davus._ Well, then I will come.

_Char._ If you want me, I shall be at home.

                                                                [_Exit._


                                SCENE V.

                             DAVUS, MYSIS.

_Davus._ Mysis, do you wait here for me a moment, till I come out again?

_Mysis._ Why?

_Davus._ It must be so.

_Mysis._ Make haste then.

_Davus._ I’ll return directly, I tell you.

                                                 [_Goes into the house._


                               SCENE VI.

                            MYSIS (_alone._)

Is there no reliance to be placed in any thing in this world? Heaven
preserve me, I thought Pamphilus my mistress’s chief blessing: a
friend, a lover, a husband, always ready to cherish and protect her:
but, alas! what misery does she now endure on his account: hitherto he
has been to her a source of more evil than good[170]. But here comes
Davus! bless me, man, what are you about? where are you going to carry
the child?


                               SCENE VII.

                MYSIS, DAVUS, (_with Glycera’s child._)

_Davus._ Now, Mysis, I want you to assist me in this affair with all
your ready wit, artifice, and dexterity.

_Mysis._ What are you going to do?

_Davus._ Take the child from me directly, and lay him down at our
door[171].

_Mysis._ Mercy on me! what, upon the bare ground?

_Davus._ You may take some of the herbs from that altar, and strew them
under him[172].

_Mysis._ But why don’t you lay him there yourself?

_Davus._ That if my master should require me to swear that I did not do
it; I may take the oath with a safe conscience[173].

_Mysis._ I understand you. But tell me, Davus, how long has your
conscience been so scrupulously nice?

_Davus._ Make haste, that I may tell you further what I mean to do. Oh,
Jupiter!

_Mysis._ What?

_Davus._ (_to himself._) The father of the bride is coming this way: I
abandon my first design.

_Mysis._ I don’t understand this[174].

_Davus._ I will pretend to come from the right: do you take care to
second what I say, as you see occasion.

                                                           [_he retires_

_Mysis._ I can’t make out a syllable of all this: but, if I can be of
any use, (which you know better than I,) I will stay; lest, otherwise,
I should be any hinderance to your plans.


                              SCENE VIII.

                         CHREMES, MYSIS, DAVUS.

_Chremes._ (_to himself._) Well, having prepared every thing for the
marriage of my daughter, I am returned to inform them that they may now
send for her. But what do I see? by Hercules, ’tis a child! Woman, did
you lay it there?

_Mysis._ Where can Davus be?

_Chremes._ Why don’t you answer me?

_Mysis._ (_aside._) Ah! he is not here. Mercy on me, the fellow has
left me here, and gone away.

_Davus._ (_speaking loud, and pretending not to see Chremes._) Heavens!
what a crowd there is in the Forum! what a wrangling! provisions too
are very dear. (_Aside._) What else to say I know not.

_Mysis._ (_aside to Davus._) In Heaven’s name, how could you think of
leaving me here alone?

_Davus._ (_aloud._) Ha! what plot is this? Mysis, whose child is this?
who brought it here?

_Mysis._ (_aside to Davus._) Are you mad to ask me such a question?

_Davus._ Whom should I ask? I can see no one else here[175].

_Chremes._ (_aside._) I wonder whose child it is!

_Davus._ Will you answer me or not?

_Mysis._ Ah!

_Davus._ (_aside to Mysis._) Move to the right.

_Mysis._ Are you mad? was it not yourself?

_Davus._ (_aside to Mysis._) Take care not to say a single syllable,
except exact answers to the questions I put to you.

_Mysis._ Do you threaten me?

_Davus._ Whose child is it? (_Aside to Mysis._) Speak.

_Mysis._ From our house.

_Davus._ Ha! ha! this woman’s impudence is wonderful!

_Chremes._ (_aside._) This girl belongs to the Andrian, I am pretty
sure.

_Davus._ Do we seem so fit to be imposed upon?

_Chremes._ (_aside._) I came just in time.

_Davus._ (_quite loud._) Make haste, and take the brat from our door.
(_Aside to Mysis._) Don’t stir a step.

_Mysis._ The deuce [176]take you, fellow, for terrifying me in this
manner.

_Davus._ Do you hear me or not?

_Mysis._ What do you want?

_Davus._ What! must I tell you again! whose child have you brought
here? Answer me.

_Mysis._ You know well enough whose child it is.

_Davus._ Never mind what I know: tell me what I ask.

_Mysis._ It belongs to your family.

_Davus._ To our family! but to which of us?

_Mysis._ To Pamphilus.

_Davus._ Hey! what? to Pamphilus? (_very loud._)

_Mysis._ Yes, can you deny it?

_Chremes._ (_aside._) I acted wisely in avoiding the match[177].

_Davus._ What a disgraceful trick! it ought to be publicly exposed.

_Mysis._ What are you making so much noise about?

_Davus._ What did I see brought to your house yesterday?

_Mysis._ O! impudent fellow!

_Davus._ ’Tis true: I saw old Canthara, with something under her
cloak[178].

_Mysis._ Thank Heaven, that there were some free women present when my
mistress was delivered[179ᴬ].

_Davus._ She knows little of the man she wants to practise these tricks
upon: do you think that if Chremes saw this child before our door, he
would refuse us his daughter on that account? I say he would give her
more willingly.

_Chremes._ (_aside._) Not he, indeed.

_Davus._ And, to be short with you, that you may understand me at once,
if you don’t take away the child instantly, I’ll roll him into the
middle of the street, and you, Madam, into the kennel.

_Mysis._ [179ᴮ]By Pollux, fellow, you are drunk.

_Davus._ One falsehood brings on another: [180]I hear it whispered
about, that she is a citizen of Athens.

_Chremes._ (_aside._) How!

_Davus._ And that he will be compelled to marry her[181].

_Mysis._ What then, pray, is she not a citizen?

_Chremes._ (_aside._) By Jupiter, I have narrowly escaped making myself
a common laughing-stock to all the town.

_Davus._ (_turning round suddenly._) Who speaks there? Oh Chremes! you
are come just in time: listen――――

_Chremes._ I have heard every thing.

_Davus._ What, Sir, heard all, did you say?

_Chremes._ I tell you, I heard all from the beginning.

_Davus._ (_half aloud._) He has heard all: what an [182]accident!――this
impudent wench ought to be taken hence and punished[183]: (_to Mysis._)
This is Chremes himself: think not that you can impose upon Davus.

_Mysis._ Alas! dear Sir, indeed I have said nothing but the truth.

_Chremes._ I know every thing. Is Simo at home?

_Davus._ Yes, Sir.

                                                        [_Exit Chremes._


                               SCENE IX.

         MYSIS, DAVUS, (_overjoyed, offers to take her hand._)

_Mysis._ Don’t touch me, you villain: if I don’t tell my mistress all
this, may I be――

_Davus._ Hey-day! you silly wench: You don’t know what we have just
done.

_Mysis._ How should I?

_Davus._ [184]That was the bride’s father: I wished him to know all
this; and there was no other way to acquaint him with it.

_Mysis._ You should have given me notice then.

_Davus._ [185]Do you think a thing of this sort can be done as well
by premeditating and studying, as by acting according to the natural
impulse of the moment.


                                SCENE X.

                       CRITO[186], MYSIS, DAVUS.

_Crito._ (_to himself._) I am told, that this is the street in which
Chrysis dwelt; who chose to amass wealth here, in a manner not the
most unexceptionable, rather than live in honest poverty in her own
[187]country. That wealth, however, now devolves to me[188]. But I see
some persons of whom I can inquire. God save you.

_Mysis._ [189]Bless me! whom do I see? is not this Crito the kinsman of
Chrysis? It is.

_Crito._ Oh, Mysis! God save you.

_Mysis._ God save you, Crito.

_Crito._ Alas! [190]poor Chrysis is then gone.

_Mysis._ She is indeed: and the loss of her has almost ruined us.

_Crito._ What! you? how so? has any other misfortune happened to you?
how do you live now, Mysis?

_Mysis._ Oh! we live as we can, as the saying goes: since we cannot
live as we would.

_Crito._ Has Glycera discovered her parents here?

_Mysis._ Would to Heaven she had.

_Crito._ Not yet! In an evil hour then came I here: for, in truth, if
I had known that, I would not have set a foot in this city. Glycera
was always treated as, and called the sister of, Chrysis; and has in
possession what property she left: and the example of others will teach
me what ease, redress, and profit, I have to expect from [191]a suit at
law: besides, I suppose, by this time, she has some lover to espouse
her cause; for, she was no longer in her childhood, when she left
the isle of Andros. I should be railed at as a beggar, and a pitiful
legacy-hunter. Besides, I never could be cruel enough to reduce her to
poverty.

_Mysis._ O excellent Crito! I see you are still the same worthy soul
you used to be.

_Crito._ Well, since I am come, let me see the poor girl.

_Mysis._ By all means.

_Davus._ I will go with them: as I don’t wish to meet with our old
gentleman just at this time.




                         END OF THE FOURTH ACT.




                                 ACT V.


                                SCENE I.

                             CHREMES, SIMO.

_Chremes._ Cease your entreaties, Simo; enough, [192] and more than
enough have I already shewn my friendship towards you: enough have I
risked for you. In my endeavours to oblige you, I have nearly trifled
away my daughter’s happiness.

_Simo._ Nay, Chremes, it is now more than ever that I beg, and even
implore that the kindness you granted me by promise, may now be
fulfilled in deed.

_Chremes._ Your eagerness to obtain what you desire makes you unjust,
and forgetful of your usual friendship and consideration; for, if you
reflected for a moment on what you ask of me, you would cease to urge
me to do myself such an injustice.

_Simo._ What injustice.

_Chremes._ Can you ask? you prevailed on me to choose as my daughter’s
husband, a young man distracted with love for another, and detesting
every thought of marriage: if this union had been consummated, it
would have inthralled her with a husband who would not have loved her,
and exposed her to all the miseries of an unhappy union: that, at the
expense of her happiness, I might attempt the cure of your son. You
obtained your request: the treaty went forward, while circumstances
allowed of it; but now the affair wears a different aspect, be
satisfied, and bear your disappointment with temper. It is said
that Glycera is a citizen of Athens; [193]and that she has a son by
Pamphilus: this sets us free.

_Simo._ I conjure you, Chremes, by the gods, not to suffer yourself
to be led away by those who wish to make their advantage of my son’s
follies: all those reports are invented and spread abroad, with a view
to prevent the marriage: when their cause ceases, they will cease also.

_Chremes._ You are mistaken: I myself saw the Andrian’s maid
quarrelling with Davus.

_Simo._ Oh, no doubt! that I can easily believe.

_Chremes._ But, in earnest; when neither knew that I was present.

_Simo._ I believe it: for Davus told me not long ago that it would
be so: and I can’t think how I could forget to tell you of it, as I
intended.


                               SCENE II.

                         CHREMES, SIMO, DAVUS.

_Davus._ (_to himself._) I banish care.

_Chremes._ Here comes Davus.

_Simo._ Where does he come from?

_Davus._ (_to himself._) By virtue of the stranger’s assistance, and my
sovereign skill and ingenuity.

_Simo._ What’s the matter now?

_Davus._ (_to himself._) I never saw any man arrive more opportunely.

_Simo._ Whom is this rascal praising?

_Davus._ (_to himself._) All now is safe.

_Simo._ What hinders me from speaking to him?

_Davus._ (_aside._) ’Tis my master, what shall I do?

_Simo._ (_sneering._) God save you, worthy Sir.

_Davus._ Oh! Simo, and our Chremes, all things are now prepared within.

_Simo._ You’ve taken good care, no doubt!

_Davus._ Send for the bride as soon as you please.

_Simo._ Very well, but Pamphilus is absent now: however, do you answer
me: what business had you in that house?

_Davus._ (_confused._) Who? I?

_Simo._ You.

_Davus._ I, do you say?

_Simo._ Yes, you, I say.

_Davus._ I went in just now.

_Simo._ As if I asked him how long it was ago.

_Davus._ With Pamphilus.

_Simo._ How! is Pamphilus there? wretch that I am! I’m half distracted!
ha! rascal, did you not tell me that they were at variance.

_Davus._ So they are.

_Simo._ Why then is he there?

_Chremes._ (_sneering._) Oh! he’s gone to quarrel with her, no doubt.

_Davus._ Oh yes, and Chremes, I will tell you of a most curious affair.
An old man, whose name I know not, arrived here just now; he seems
both shrewd and confident; his manners and appearance command respect;
there [194]is a grave severity in his countenance; and he speaks with
boldness.

_Simo._ What’s all this about, sirrah?

_Davus._ Nothing, truly, but what I heard him say.

_Simo._ And what does he say?

_Davus._ That he can prove Glycera to be a citizen of Athens.

_Simo._ (_in a passion._) Ho! Dromo! Dromo!

_Davus._ What’s the matter?

_Simo._ Dromo!

_Davus._ Only hear me.

_Simo._ If you dare to say another word.――Dromo, I say!

_Davus._ Hear me, Sir, I beseech you.


                               SCENE III.

                     SIMO, CHREMES, DAVUS, DROMO.

_Dromo._ What’s your pleasure, Sir.

_Simo._ Seize this rascal directly, and take him away[195].

_Dromo._ Whom?

_Simo._ Davus.

_Davus._ Why?

_Simo._ Because it is my pleasure. Away with him, I say.

_Davus._ What have I done?

_Simo._ Away with him.

_Davus._ If you find that I have spoken falsely, kill me.

_Simo._ I’ll not hear a single word. I’ll ruffle you now, rascal, I
will.

_Davus._ For all that, what I say is true.

_Simo._ For all that, Dromo, take care to keep him bound, [196]and, do
you hear? chain him up hands and feet together. Go, sirrah, if I live,
I’ll shew you what it is to impose upon your master, and Pamphilus
also shall learn that an indulgent father is not to be deceived with
impunity.

                                              [_Exeunt Dromo and Davus._

_Chremes._ Ah! Simo, check your excessive rage.

_Simo._ Chremes, is this the duty that a father ought to expect from
his son? Do you not pity me, that I am made so anxious by a son? Oh
Pamphilus! Pamphilus! come forth: have you no shame?


                               SCENE IV.

                       SIMO, CHREMES, PAMPHILUS.

_Pam._ Who calls me? ’Tis my father! I am undone.

_Simo._ What can you say for yourself? of all the――――

_Chremes._ (_interrupting._) Ah! come to the point at once, and spare
your reproaches.

_Simo._ Reproaches! Can any be too severe for him? Tell me, (_to
Pamphilus._) do you assert that Glycera is a citizen of Athens?

_Pam._ I have heard that she is.

_Simo._ You have heard it! Oh impudence! Now does he seem to care for
what he says? does he seem to repent of his folly? does he betray any
symptoms of shame? can he be so weak? [197]so totally regardless of the
customs and laws of his country, and his father’s commands, as to wish
to degrade himself by an infamous union with this woman?

_Pam._ Unhappy wretch that I am!

_Simo._ Ah! Pamphilus, is it only now that you have discovered that?
long, long ago, I say, when you debased your inclinations, and were
willing to sacrifice every thing to your desires; then it was that you
might truly have called yourself unhappy. But what am I doing? why do I
torment myself? why should I suffer? why imbitter my old age with his
mad folly? Am I to pay the penalty of his offences? No: let him have
her: I bid him farewell: let her supply the place of his father.

_Pam._ Oh, my father!

_Simo._ What need have you of a father? you, who have chosen a wife,
children, and home, which are all of them disagreeable, and even
obnoxious to that father? Persons are suborned hither too, [198]who
say, that she is a citizen of Athens. You have conquered.

_Pam._ Dear Sir, hear me but for a moment.

_Simo._ What can you say?

_Chremes._ Yet hear him, Simo, I entreat you.

_Simo._ Hear him! Oh Chremes, what shall I hear?

_Chremes._ Nevertheless, permit him to speak.

_Simo._ Well, let him speak then, I permit it.

_Pam._ Oh! my father: I confess that I love; and, if to love be a
crime, I confess that I am guilty. But to you I submit: your commands
I promise implicitly to obey: if you insist on my marriage with
Philumena; and compel me to subdue my love [199]for Glycera, I will
endeavour to comply with your commands: I implore only, that you
will cease to accuse me of suborning hither this old man. Suffer me
to bring him before you; that I may clear myself from this degrading
suspicion[200].

_Simo._ What! bring him here?

_Pam._ Suffer it, my father.

_Chremes._ Simo, it is a just request: allow this stranger to come
before you.

_Pam._ Dear Sir, grant me this favour?

_Simo._ Well, be it so. (_Pamphilus goes in._) Oh! Chremes, what would
I not give, to be convinced that my son has not deceived me.

_Chremes._ However great may be the faults of a son, a slight
punishment satisfies a father.


                                SCENE V.

                    CHREMES, SIMO, CRITO, PAMPHILUS.

_Crito._ Say no more, Pamphilus, I would do what you wish either for
your sake, or for Glycera’s, or even my regard for truth would be a
sufficient inducement.

_Chremes._ Do I see Crito the Andrian? Yes, it is he!

_Crito._ Well met, Chremes.

_Chremes._ What brought you to Athens, who are such a stranger here?

_Crito._ I came hither on business: but is this Simo?

_Chremes._ Yes.

_Simo._ Does he ask for me? Well, Sir, I am Simo: do you dare to say
that Glycera is a citizen of Athens?

_Crito._ Do you deny it?

_Simo._ Are you come hither so well prepared?

_Crito._ Prepared! for what?

_Simo._ Do you ask? Can you think that you shall do these things
with impunity? Can you think that you will be suffered to insnare
inexperienced and respectable young men? and flatter them with fair
words and fine promises?

_Crito._ Are you in your senses?

_Simo._ And, at last, conclude this shameful fraud, by marrying them to
their mistresses?

_Pam._ (aside.) I am undone? Crito, I fear, will not be able to
maintain his ground.

_Chremes._ [201]Simo, if you knew this stranger as well as I do, you
would think better of him: he is a worthy man.

_Simo._ He a worthy man? but yes, it was very good of him to be sure to
come here so opportunely on the day of my son’s marriage! he! who was
never at Athens before! Chremes, ought such a man to be believed?

_Pam._ (_aside._) I could easily explain that circumstance; but I fear
my interference would offend my father.

_Simo._ A sycophant[202].

_Crito._ What!

_Chremes._ Bear with him, Crito, ’tis his humour.

_Crito._ Then let him look to it: if he persists in saying all he
pleases, I will make him hear something that will not please him. Do I
interfere in this affair? what have I to do with it? Can you not bear
your disappointment patiently. As for what I assert, it is easy enough
to ascertain whether it is true or false. Some years ago, a certain
Athenian was shipwrecked, and cast upon the isle of Andros: he was
accompanied by this very Glycera, who was then an infant: and, in great
distress, applied for assistance to the father of Chrysis.

_Simo._ Now he begins a tale.

_Chremes._ Suffer him to speak.

_Crito._ What! will he interrupt me?

_Chremes._ (_to Crito._) Pray proceed.

_Crito._ Chrysis’ father, who received[203] him, was my relation: and,
at his house, I’ve heard that shipwrecked stranger say, that he was an
Athenian: he died in Andros.

_Chremes._ (_eagerly._) His name was ――――

_Crito._ His name so quickly. Phania.

_Chremes._ Ah!

_Crito._ At least I think it was Phania: one thing I am sure of, he
said he was from[204] Rhamnus.

_Chremes._ Oh Jupiter!

_Crito._ Many other persons who were then in Andros heard of these
things.

_Chremes._ Heaven grant my hopes may be fulfilled: tell me, Crito, did
he call the child his own?

_Crito._ No.

_Chremes._ Whose then?

_Crito._ He said she was the daughter of his brother.

_Chremes._ Then she is surely mine!

_Crito._ What say you?

_Simo._ How can she be yours? What is it you say?

_Pam._ Listen, Pamphilus.

_Simo._ What are your reasons for believing this?

_Chremes._ That Phania was my brother.

_Simo._ I know it: I was well acquainted with him.

_Chremes._ That he might avoid the war, he quitted Greece: and,
following me, set sail for Asia: fearing to leave the child, he took
her with him: and this is the first account I have ever received of
their fate.

_Pam._ I am scarcely myself: my mind is so agitated by fear, hope, joy,
and astonishment, at this so great and unexpected happiness.

_Simo._ Believe me, Chremes, I rejoice most sincerely that Glycera
proves to be your daughter.

_Pam._ That, I believe, my father.

_Chremes._ But stay: I have yet one doubt, which gives me some
uneasiness.

_Pam._ Away with all your doubts and scruples; you seek a difficulty
where none exists.

_Crito._ What is it?

_Chremes._ The name does not agree.

_Crito._ I know she bore some other name when an infant.

_Chremes._ What was it? Crito, have you forgotten?

_Crito._ I am trying to remember it.

_Pam._ Shall I suffer his want of memory to retard my happiness, when
I myself can find a remedy? I will not. Chremes, the name you want is
Pasibula.

_Crito._ The very name[205].

_Chremes._ You are right.

_Pam._ I have heard it from herself a thousand times.

_Simo._ Chremes, I hope you are convinced how sincerely we all rejoice
at this discovery[206].

_Chremes._ I have no doubt of it.

_Pam._ And now, dear Sir.

_Simo._ The happy turn of the affair has reconciled me, my son: be all
unpleasant recollections banished.

_Pam._ A thousand thanks, my father. I trust that Chremes also consents
that Glycera should be mine.

_Chremes._ Undoubtedly: with your father’s approbation.

_Pam._ Oh! that is certain.

[207]_Simo._ I consent most joyfully.

_Chremes._ Pamphilus, my daughter’s portion is ten talents[208].

_Pam._ Dear sir, I am quite satisfied.

_Chremes._ I will hasten to my daughter: come with me, Crito, for I
suppose that she will not remember me.

                                             [_Chremes and Crito go in._


                               SCENE VI.

                            SIMO, PAMPHILUS.

_Simo._ Why do you not immediately give orders for her removal to our
house[209]?

_Pam._ That is well thought of, Sir, I’ll intrust that affair to Davus.

_Simo._ He can’t attend to it.

_Pam._ Why not?

_Simo._ Because [210]he is now carrying on things of great weight, and
which touch him more nearly.

_Pam._ What are they?

_Simo._ He is chained.

_Pam._ Ah! dear Sir, that was not well done.

_Simo._ I am sure[211] I ordered it to be well done.

_Pam._ Order him to be set at liberty, my father, I entreat you.

_Simo._ Well, well, I will.

_Pam._ But, pray, let it be done directly.

_Simo._ I will go in, and order him to be released.

                                                           [_Exit Simo._

_Pam._ Oh what a joyous happy day is this to me!


                               SCENE VII.

                          PAMPHILUS, CHARINUS.

_Char._ (_to himself._) I came to see what Pamphilus is doing: and here
he is.

_Pam._ (_to himself._) Any one would think, perhaps, that I do not
believe this to be true, but I know it is, because I wish it so. I
am of opinion, that the lives of the gods are eternal, because their
pleasures are secure, and without end: for I feel that I am [212]become
immortal, if no sadness intrude on this joy: but whom do I wish to see
at this time? would that I had a friend here whom I might make happy by
relating to him my good fortune.

_Char._ (_to himself._) What can be the cause of these transports?

_Pam._ (_to himself._) I see Davus, whom of all men I had rather
meet: since I know he will rejoice more sincerely than any one at my
happiness.


                              SCENE VIII.

                      PAMPHILUS, CHARINUS, DAVUS.

_Davus._ Where is Pamphilus?

_Pam._ Davus.

_Davus._ Who is that?

_Pam._ ’Tis I.

_Davus._ Oh, Pamphilus!

_Pam._ You do not know what has happened to me.

_Davus._ No: but I know perfectly well what has happened to me.

_Pam._ And so do I.

_Davus._ This happens according to custom, that you should learn my
evil fortune before I hear of your good fortune.

_Pam._ My dear Glycera has discovered her parents.

_Davus._ Oh! glorious news!

_Char._ (_aside._) What says he?

_Pam._ Her father is our intimate friend!

_Davus._ His name?

_Pam._ Chremes.

_Davus._ I’m transported with joy.

_Pam._ There is now no impediment to our marriage[213].

_Char._ (_aside._) This man is [214]dreaming of what he wishes when
awake.

_Pam._ Then, Davus, as for the child――――

_Davus._ Ah, Sir! say no more――you are one of the chief favourites of
the gods!

_Char._ (_aside._) I am restored to life if these things be true. I
will speak to them.

_Pam._ Who is that? Ah! Charinus, you come in a most auspicious hour.

_Char._ I wish you joy.

_Pam._ How! have you heard then that――――

_Char._ I have heard all: and let me conjure you, my friend, to think
of me amidst your happiness. Chremes is now your own: and will, I am
very sure, consent to any thing you request of him.

_Pam._ I will not be unmindful of your happiness, I assure you: and,
as it would be tedious for us to wait their coming out, accompany me
now to my Glycera. Do you, Davus, go home, and order some of our people
hither, to [215]remove her to our house. Why do you loiter? Go: don’t
lose a moment.

_Davus._ I am going. (_To the spectators._) [216]You must not expect
their coming out: she will be betrothed within: where all will be
concluded. Farewell: and clap your hands[217].




                       [218]END OF THE FIFTH ACT.




                                 NOTES.




                                 NOTES.


                                NOTE 1.

                     _Caius Suetonius Tranquillus._

The history of the life of Terence is enveloped in more obscurity than
might have been expected, considering his many eminent qualities,
and the times in which he lived. Suetonius’s account is not very
comprehensive; it is, however, the best which has reached us, and
indeed the only one at all to be depended on. Caius Suetonius
Tranquillus, a correct and impartial biographer, was secretary to the
Emperor Adrian: and enjoyed the friendship of Pliny the younger: he
flourished about A.D. 115.


                                NOTE 2.

                             _Terentius._

This appellation was conferred on the poet by his patron Terentius
Lucanus: his true name is unknown, even conjecture is silent on this
subject. Slaves, who received their freedom, usually bore the name of
the person who manumitted them: sometimes also, during their slavery,
they were called by the name of their master. Terentius Lucanus does
not appear to have been a person of any particular note; as he is
never mentioned but as the friend and patron of Terence, to whom he is
indebted for rescuing his name from oblivion.


                                NOTE 3.

                             _Fenestella._

“Rome could never boast of a more accurate historian than Lucius
Fenestella; he was likewise a very learned antiquarian. He lived at
about the end of the reign of Augustus, or the beginning of that of
Tiberius: and wrote many things; particularly Annals: none of his works
are now extant.” MADAME DACIER.


                                NOTE 4.

  _Terence was born after the conclusion of the second Punic war, and
     died before the commencement of the third._

The second Punic war ended 201 B. C. in the year of Rome 553: and the
third commenced 150 B. C. in the year of Rome 604, about three years
before the destruction of Carthage. Terence was born 189 B. C., which
was 12 years after the termination of the second Punic war, and he died
at the age of 36, three years before the beginning of the third Punic
war. If we suppose Terence to have been a freeborn Carthaginian, it
is very difficult to account for his being a slave at Rome; because
the Romans could not have taken him prisoner in war, as they were at
peace with the Carthaginians during the whole of his life. Neither
is it probable that he was made a prisoner, and sold to the Romans
either by the Numidians, or by the Gætulians, as his perfect knowledge
of the Latin and Greek languages, at twenty-five years of age, is a
most forcible reason for believing that he was removed to Rome in
extreme youth: long before he could have been able to undergo the
fatigue attendant on a military life. I can solve this difficulty in
no other way than by supposing, either that the parents of Terence
were themselves slaves at Carthage, and consequently he also was the
property of their master; (as the children of slaves shared the fate
of their parents;) or that he was sold to the Carthaginians by the
Numidians, or by the Gætulians. In either of these cases, it is by no
means improbable that during the peace which followed the second Punic
war, Terence might in his infancy have been sold by his Carthaginian
master to one of those Romans who visited Carthage during the peace.


                                NOTE 5.

                     _The Numidians or Gætulians._

Numidia and Gætulia, or Getulia, at the time of Terence’s birth, formed
a part of the dominions of the celebrated African prince Masinissa, who
so eminently distinguished himself as the firm and faithful ally of
the Roman Republic: and as the formidable enemy of the Carthaginians.
Numidia was situated S.W. of the territories of Carthage; and is now
that part of Southern Barbary, known by the name of Biledulgerid.
Gætulia (the boundaries of which were afterwards regulated by Marius)
was a most extensive country, and lay S.W. of Numidia: it is now very
little known, and reaches from the south of Barbary, or the country of
Dates, across the Great Desert or Sahara, almost as far south as the
river Niger. It may be conjectured that the northern region only of
this vast country was subject to the control of King Masinissa.


                                NOTE 6.

                          _Scipio Africanus._

Publius Cornelius Scipio Æmilianus Africanus Numantinus was the son
of Paulus Æmilius, whose conquest of Macedonia procured him the title
of Macedonicus. The young Æmilius was adopted (during the life of his
father) by the son of the conqueror of Hannibal, Publius Cornelius
Scipio Africanus, whose name he afterwards bore (in conformity with
the established custom): and it is not a little remarkable, that the
appellation of Africanus which the son of Æmilius then acquired by
adoption, he afterwards claimed in his own right, as the destroyer of
Carthage. The title of Numantinus was conferred on this hero, as a
tribute to his valour and conduct in the war against the inhabitants
of Numantia, who were totally destroyed with their city, after a long
and desperate resistance. Scipio was born in the year of Rome 569,
and died in the year 624. Some persons have been misled by a singular
coincidence of circumstances relative to the two Scipios, into a
belief that it was the elder of the two who honoured Terence with his
friendship. The error is evident, as the death of the first Scipio
Africanus took place before Terence was ten years of age. The elder
Scipio honoured with his particular regard Caius Lælius, who obtained
the consulship in the year of Rome 563: the connexion between them
was cemented by the strict ties of a virtuous friendship. It is a
circumstance worthy of remark, that the chosen intimate of the younger
Africanus was also called Caius Lælius.


                                NOTE 7.

                            _Caius Lælius._

Caius Lælius, whose virtues procured him the appellation of Sapiens, or
the Wise, is supposed to have been the son of the Lælius who enjoyed
the friendship of the elder Scipio. Caius Lælius Sapiens was the senior
Consul or Consul Prior in the year of Rome 613. Cicero’s treatise “De
Amicitiâ,” in which he represents Lælius discoursing on the nature
and delights of a pure and delicate friendship, is a monument of the
attachment of Scipio and Lælius, worthy of them and of himself.


                                NOTE 8.

                     _Who were about his own age._

Those who have read Suetonius in the original, will perceive that I
have passed by an imputation recorded by that writer, against Scipio,
Lælius, and our author: the refined delicacy by which the sentiments of
those eminent persons were distinguished, ought to protect them from so
disgusting and degrading a suspicion.


                                NOTE 9.

                               _Portius._

Licinius Portius, a Latin poet, who flourished about the year of Rome
610: he excelled as an epigrammatist. Fragments only of his writings
now remain.


                                NOTE 10.

                               _Furius._

Publius Furius, an eminent statesman, was the intimate friend of Scipio
and Lælius: he received the surname of Philus or the Lover. Furius was
elected the Consul Prior in the year of Rome 617.


                                NOTE 11.

        _While he is frequently carried to the Albanian villa._

There were in Latium two towns called Alba, each of which were situated
on the borders of a lake.

Alba Longa, now called Albano, was built by Ascanius, and distant
16 miles from Rome. Alba Fucentis, situated about three times that
distance from the capital, on lake Fucinus, is now known by the name
of Celano. The Albanian mountain, where Scipio, Lælius, or Furius
probably possessed a villa, was in the immediate vicinity of Alba
Longa. Portius might have alluded to Terence accompanying his friends
to the Latinæ Feriæ, or Latin games, which were celebrated by the
Consuls on the Alban mountain on the 27th of April.


                                NOTE 12.

              _And dies at Stymphalus, a town of Arcadia._

Stymphalus, a town of Arcadia, was situated about 25 miles S.W. of
Corinth, on the borders of a lake of the same name, which is said
to have been infested by a species of Harpies, who were called
Stymphalides. A festival called ΣΤΥΜΦΑΛΙΑ was celebrated at Stymphalus
in honour of Diana, who on that account received the appellation of
Stymphalia.


                                NOTE 13.

                             _The Ædiles._

All plays, previous to their appearance on the Roman stage, were
submitted to the perusal of the Ædiles, who chose from the number
offered them those which (in their judgment) were best suited for
representation: they were bound by oath to an impartial decision.


                                NOTE 14.

                               _Cærius._

Many have supposed Cæcilius the poet to have been the person meant in
this passage: this is a manifest error; as that poet died five or six
years before the representation of this play. Others read Acilius, who
was one of the Ædiles for the year in which the Andrian was exhibited:
this would be a plausible reading, but for one circumstance, which
must be considered as an insurmountable objection to it, viz.――The
Gens Acilia (of which Acilius was a member) was _a plebeian family_:
consequently, Acilius must have been a plebeian Ædile, whereas the
inspection of the Roman plays was the office of the Curule Ædiles: who,
in the time of Terence, were chosen from the _Patrician_ families.


                                NOTE 15.

                         _The Couch of Cærius._

The Cœna of the Romans (their principal meal) was usually taken at
three o’clock in the afternoon: when they partook of it, instead of
sitting in the modern manner, they reclined on couches which were
placed round the table in the form of the letter C; a space was left
unoccupied that the slaves in placing and removing the dishes might
not incommode the guests. The number of the couches was generally
limited to three; each of which was occupied sometimes by four, but
usually by only three persons. The body was raised, and supported by
the left arm; the feet of him who reclined at the upper end of the
couch lay at the back of the person next him: (though prevented from
touching his clothes by cushions placed between them) and the feet of
the second at the back of the third. To place more than three guests
on one couch was accounted both mean and vulgar. Cicero notices this
in his oration against Piso, “_Græci stipati, quini in lectulis, sæpe
plures_,” speaking of “_five, and often a greater number crowded
together on one small couch_.” The Romans indulged themselves with
couches only at supper: no ceremony was observed at their other
meals, which were taken sitting or standing, alone or in company, as
inclination prompted. In the earlier ages both Romans and Greeks sat
upright at their meals: Homer expressly mentions (_in Odyss. B. 10._)
“ἥμεθα δαινύμενοι,” “_we sat feasting_;” also Virgil. Æn. 7. v. 176.


                                NOTE 16.

                              _Volcatius._

Volcatius Sedigitus, a miscellaneous writer and poet, mentioned in
very high terms by the younger Pliny, flourished in the reign of one of
the 12 Cæsars: the exact time is unknown. His works are entirely lost,
with the exception of a few verses; amongst them are the following, in
which he classes ten of the most eminent Latin comic poets.

    “Multos incertos certare hanc rem vidimus,
    Palmam poëtæ comico cui deferant:
    Hunc _meo judicio_ errorem dissolvam tibi;
    Ut contra si quis sentiat, nihil sentiat.
    CÆCILIO palmam STATIO do comico:
    PLAUTUS secundus facile exsuperat cæteros:
    Dein NÆVIUS, qui servet pretium, tertius est:
    Si erit quod quarto detur, dabitur LICINIO:
    Post insequi Licinium facio ATILIUM.
    In sexto consequitur loco hos TERENTIUS:
    TURPILIUS septimum, TRABEA octavum obtinet.
    Nono loco esse facile facio LUSCIUM.
    Antiquitatis causâ, decimum addo ENNIUM.”
                                Au: Gell: B. 15. C 24.

“Madame Dacier very well observes, that Volcatius has injured the
reputation of his own judgment, and not the fame of Terence, by this
injudicious arrangement.” Terence yields to none of the above.


                                NOTE 17.

                _The Eunuch was acted twice in one day._

This circumstance is so much the more extraordinary, as a play was
seldom exhibited on the Roman stage oftener than on four or five
occasions, before it was laid aside; and new pieces were usually
provided for every festival: with what enthusiastic applause then,
must the Eunuch have been received, when the audience with the loudest
acclamations, called for a second representation of this admirable
comedy on the same day! It is necessary to explain that the actors had
sufficient time to repeat their performance, as dramatic entertainments
were usually frequented by the Romans, not in the evening as among the
moderns, but in the course of the day, and generally previous to the
hour of their principal repast.


                                NOTE 18.

                      _Eight thousand sesterces._

Eight thousand sesterces were equal to 64_l._ 11_s._ 8_d._ sterling.
The Romans reckoned their money by sesterces: the _sestertius_, which
was a brass coin, worth 1. d. 3 qrs. ¾, must not be confounded with the
_sestertium_, which was no coin, but money of account, and equal in
value to _one thousand sesterces_.


                                NOTE 19.

                                _Varro._

Marcus Terentius Varro was born at Rome in the year of the city 632;
at the time of the sedition of Caius Gracchus. Varro was the intimate
friend of Pompey: and obtaining the consulship in the year 680, had
the mortification to find the efforts of himself and his colleague,
inadequate to suppress the insurrection of Spartacus, whose successes
at the head of the rebellious gladiators, alarmed all Rome. The
military occupations of Varro did not prevent his close attention to
literature: his writings were very voluminous; and those of them which
remain are deservedly in high estimation.


                                NOTE 20.

        _And as for what those malicious railers say, who assert
              that certain noble persons assist the poet._

The chief of those railers, and the arch-enemy of Terence, was the
Luscius Lanuvinus to whom Volcatius in his list of poets assigns the
ninth place;――and the same person whom Donatus designates by the name
of Lucius Lavinius. Luscius was not singular in this imputation against
our author. Valgius and others seem to consider Terence but the mere
nominal author of the six pieces which bear his name. That Scipio and
Lælius assisted him with their advice, is highly probable, and his
vanity might feel flattered by the insertion among his own writings,
of short passages of their composition; but when we call to mind, that
Africanus and his friend, two persons of the most refined delicacy and
taste, distinguished by their friendship, and selected as a companion
in their hours of retirement and relaxation, a freedman! a man whose
rank was infinitely inferior to their own; we must naturally suppose
that those eminent persons courted the society of Terence, as admirers
of his extraordinary genius, and elevation of sentiment. As they could
not have become thoroughly acquainted with our author’s engaging
qualifications, but from his dramatic compositions, it is most probable
that the ANDRIAN at least, was published, before he was honoured with
the intimacy of either Scipio, Lælius, or Furius. Indeed there can be
but little doubt that the success of this play, (which he wrote when
he was too little known, perhaps, to receive assistance from any one,)
was the means of drawing him from the obscurity of his low rank, and of
obtaining the notice and approbation of the great men of his age, and
their patronage for his future productions.


                                NOTE 21.

                           _Quintus Memmius._

The oration alluded to by Suetonius was written by Memmius to defend
himself against a charge of bribery. The Memmii were a plebeian family,
though several of them attained to the highest dignities. Quintus was
nearly related to the Caius Memmius who was assassinated by Lucius
Apuleius Saturninus: and is supposed to have been the son of the
Memmius to whom Lucretius dedicated his celebrated poem, “_De Rerum
naturâ_.” _Vide_ Cicero in Catilin. and Florus, B. 3., c. 16.


                                NOTE 22.

                           _Cornelius Nepos._

Cornelius Nepos, a celebrated biographer of the Augustan age, was born
on the banks of the Po, which he quitted in his youth; and, attracted
by the splendour and pleasures of a gallant and polite court, removed
to Rome, where his talents and taste for literature procured him the
friendship of Cicero, and many other eminent persons. Of all his
much-admired writings nothing remains but his “_Lives of the most
illustrious Greeks and Romans_.”


                                NOTE 23.

                               _Puteoli._

Puteoli, or, as it is now called, Puzzoli, was much frequented by the
Romans for the sake of its hot-wells: being at a convenient distance
from the capital, not more than a day’s journey. It is now become
comparatively inconsiderable, while Naples, in its vicinity, has grown
into importance. Puzzoli, however, still affords some attraction to
the curious; as there are the ruins of a temple of Jupiter Apis, or
Serapis, to be seen there. This town was originally called Dicearchea:
named, probably, after _Dice_, a daughter of Jupiter.


                                NOTE 24.

                        _On the first of March._

The Roman ladies were allowed to exercise extraordinary authority on
this day, on which they celebrated the festival called MATRONALIA,
instituted in gratitude to Mars, who permitted a termination of the war
between the Romans and Sabines; in which the women were particularly
concerned. The privileges allowed to ladies on the first of March,
were, I believe, confined to the matrons, in commemoration of the
_successful interference of the married women_, in the year 749, B. C.,
which put an end to the war between the Romans and the Sabines, who
had taken up arms to revenge the rape of their women by the Romans, at
a festival to which Romulus had invited them. (_Vide Note 28._)


                                NOTE 25.

                               _Santra._

Little is known of Santra, but that he was cotemporary with Cicero, and
author of some biographical Memoirs, and “A Treatise on the Antiquity
of Words,” which are now entirely lost. His family, probably, were
plebeians, and of no great note.


                                NOTE 26.

            _He would not have requested it from Scipio and
                Lælius, who were then extremely young._

Santra’s argument is of no force: for when Terence published the
Andrian, in the year of Rome 587, at twenty-seven years of age, Scipio
was eighteen, and might, at that age, have been perfectly capable
of assisting Terence; for, independent of his excellent education,
on which his father had bestowed infinite care and pains, he was
possessed of a very superior genius: and nature had united in him all
the fine qualities of his father, and of his grandfather by adoption,
Scipio the Great. Velleius Paterculus wrote his eulogium as follows,
“_Publius Scipio Æmilianus inherited the virtues of his grandfather
Publius Africanus, and of his father Lucius Paulus, excelled all
his cotemporaries in wit and learning, and in all the arts of war
and peace; and, in the course of his whole life never did, said, or
thought, any thing, but what was worthy of the highest praise_.”

“We have seen princes in France, who, at the age of eighteen, were
capable of assisting a poet, as well with respect to the conduct and
arrangement of his subject; as in what related to the manners, the
diction, and the thoughts. Menander published his first piece at
twenty years of age. It is clear, then, that there have been persons
of eighteen, capable of assisting a poet. It appears, moreover, that
the enemies of Terence did not publish this imputation against him till
the latter years of his life, for the poet complains of it only in the
prologues to the Self-tormentor and the Brothers: the first of which
was played three years, and the last but one year before his death.
When the first appeared, he was thirty-one, and Scipio twenty-two:
and when the last was published, he was thirty-four, and Scipio was
twenty-five.”――MADAME DACIER.


                                NOTE 27.

                       _Cneus Sulpicius Gallus._

Cneus Sulpicius Galba, surnamed Gallus, was by no means the least
illustrious member of the noble family of the Sulpicii, and filled the
office of Consul for the year in which the Andrian was acted. The first
of the Sulpicii took the name of _Galba_, from his diminutive stature,
that word signifying “_a small insect_;” and the name was afterwards
assumed by several of his descendants.


                                NOTE 28.

          _Who procured the representation of comedies at the
                            Consular Games._

The Ludi Consulares and Ludi Consuales were probably the same, as we
have no account of the institution of any games particularly in honour
of the Consuls, to be celebrated either at their entering on, or
resigning their office; for the _Latinæ Feriæ_, though superintended
particularly by the Consuls, and a part of their office, were not
called Consular Games. The Consual, or Consular Games were instituted
on the following occasion. Romulus, the first king of Rome, had no
sooner assumed the government of the small band of adventurers who were
the ancestors of that illustrious race of heroes, who long held all the
nations of the earth in subjection, than he found his kingdom in danger
of being totally destroyed in its birth; as none of the inhabitants of
the neighbouring states were willing to form a matrimonial alliance
with his subjects; many of whom were refuged criminals and exiled
foreigners. To obtain wives for his people, he was compelled to have
recourse to a stratagem, which Plutarch describes as follows: “_He
(Romulus) circulated a report that he had discovered, concealed under
ground, the altar of a certain god, whom they called_ CONSUS, _the God
of counsel, whose proper appellation is Neptunus Equestris, or Neptune,
the inventor of riding; for, except at horse-races, when it is exposed
to sight, this altar is kept covered in the great circus; and, it was
said, that it was not improperly concealed, because all counsels ought
to be kept secret and hidden. Romulus, having found the altar, caused
proclamation to be made, that, on an appointed day, a magnificent
sacrifice would be offered; and public games and shows exhibited, which
were to be open to all who should choose to attend them. Upon this,
great numbers went there. The king, dressed in a purple robe, was
seated on high, surrounded by the chief patricians: he was to arise,
take up his robe, and throw it over him, as a signal for the attack:
his subjects, with ready weapons, kept their eyes intently fixed upon
their sovereign; and, when the sign was given, they drew their swords
with a shout, and seized, and carried off the daughters of the Sabines,
who fled, without offering resistance._”――PLUTARCH.

The games which were instituted on this singular occasion were
afterwards celebrated annually on the 12th of the calends of September,
and considered to be an imitation of the Olympian Games of the
Greeks. The Consuales, being celebrated in the Circus were sometimes
called Circenses. The conduct of the Romans in the before-mentioned
circumstances, and that of the Benjamites in a like predicament is so
uniformly similar, that whoever attentively compares them, cannot think
it very improbable that Romulus derived the idea of his stratagem from
that passage of Jewish history. _Vide_ Judges, C. 21.


                                NOTE 29.

                        _Quintus Fabius Labeo._

If the accuracy of Plutarch may be depended on, Santra must have
been mistaken in supposing Quintus Fabius Labeo to be still living
at the time of the Andrian’s publication, or for several years
before its appearance. This conclusion is deduced from the following
circumstances: Quintus Fabius Maximus, whose prudent method of delaying
a battle, and harassing his enemy, (in his campaigns against Hannibal,)
procured him the surname of _Cunctator_, or _Delayer_, enjoyed the
dignity of the consulship _five_ several times: he was first chosen
in the year of Rome 525, and, supposing that he obtained that office
in what Cicero calls _suo anno_, his own year, that is, as soon as
he had attained the age required by law, Fabius must then have been
forty-three years of age, and, as he died in his one hundredth year,
he could not have been alive after the year 582. Quintus Fabius Labeo,
who was the son of this hero, died (Plutarch informs us) some years
before his father; and, consequently, could not have assisted Terence,
even in his first play, the Andrian, which did not appear till the year
of Rome 587. That Quintus Fabius Maximus Cunctator was the father of
Quintus Fabius Labeo can admit of no doubt, though some authors who
have mentioned them have omitted to notice their relationship. Plutarch
expressly informs us, that the son of Quintus Fabius Maximus was of
consular dignity, and, with the exception of the Cunctator, Quintus
Fabius Labeo was the only Fabius whose name appears on record as
consul, from the year of Rome 521 to the year 611.


                                NOTE 30.

                        _Marcus Popilius Lænas._

Madame Dacier thinks that the person here meant was Caius Popilius
Lænas, who shared the consular government with Publius Ælius Ligur in
the year of Rome 581; but that learned and celebrated lady assigns no
reason why we should suppose either Suetonius or Santra to have been
incorrect in affirming Marcus the brother of Caius to have been the
reputed assistant of Terence. Marcus was a man of high reputation,
and eminent abilities: the following anecdote, related by Velleius
Paterculus, (_Book_ I. _Chap._ 10.) will afford some idea of the
resolute decision of his character. “_The king of Syria, Antiochus
Epiphanes, (or the illustrious) was at that time besieging Ptolemy,
king of Egypt. Marcus Popilius Lænas was sent ambassador to Antiochus,
to desire him to desist: he delivered his message; the king replied
that he would consider of it; upon which Popilius drew a circle round
him in the sand on which they stood, and told him, that he insisted
on his final answer before he quitted that circumscribed space. This
resolute boldness prevailed, and Antiochus obeyed the Roman mandate._”

Marcus Popilius Lænas was the junior Consul for the year of Rome 580:
the name of his colleague was Lucius Posthumius Albinus.


                                NOTE 31.

                     _Persons of Consular dignity._

Those who had filled the office of consul were afterwards always
called consulares, _of Consular dignity_; those who had been Prætors
were styled Prætorii, _of Prætorian dignity_; in a similar manner the
Censors took the title of Censorii, the Quæstors of Quæstorii, and
the Ædiles of Ædilitii, though it does not appear that they were very
strict in taking precedence accordingly.


                                NOTE 32.

                         _Quintus Consentius._

If any Latin writer called Quintus Consentius ever existed, all traces
are lost both of his compositions and of his history; even the name of
his family is unknown. It is possible that instead of Consentius, Cn.
Sentius may be the person meant in this passage. Several of the Sentii
were authors of some celebrity.


                                NOTE 33.

                              _Menander._

Menander was born at Athens, 345 B. C., and educated with great
care by Theophrastus the peripatetic, whose labours must have been
amply repaid, when he witnessed the proficiency of his pupil, who
distinguished himself by successful dramatic compositions before he
had attained his 21st year. With the exception of a few fragments,
his works are entirely lost. Comedy was invented at Athens, and
divided into three kinds; _the old_, _the middle_, and _the new_. The
old comedy was that in which both the names and the circumstances
were real; the middle, was where the circumstances were true, but
the names disguised. To these two kinds, Menander had the glory of
adding a third, which was called the new comedy, where both the plot
and the characters were wholly fictitious. His style is said to have
been elegant, and his ideas and sentiments refined. Dion Chrysostom
considers his writings to be an excellent model for orators. This great
poet wrote from 100 to 108 plays; from which Terence took four of his,
viz., his Andrian, Eunuch, Self-tormentor, and Brothers. Menander
obtained a poetical prize, eight several times; his chief competitor
was called Philemon.


                                NOTE 34.

                              _Leucadia._

Leucadia, or as it is now called Santa Maura, or Lefcathia, is
an island about 50 miles in circumference, in that part of the
Mediterranean which was known among the ancients by the name of the
Ionian sea. This island was rendered famous by one of its promontories
called Leucas, and Leucate, which overhangs the sea at a very
considerable perpendicular height: a leap from this promontory into
the water beneath, was reckoned among the Greeks as an infallible
cure for unhappy lovers of either sex, and most of those who made
the experiment, found their love, and all the rest of their cares
effectually terminated by this wise step. The famous poetess Sappho
perished in this leap. _Vide The Spectator, Nos. 223, 227, 233._


                                NOTE 35.

            _The consulate of Cneus Cornelius Dolabella, and
                       Marcus Fulvius Nobilior._

This was in the year of Rome 594, and about 7 years after the
appearance of our author’s first play. As his last production, The
Brothers had been published but one year before this period; this
circumstance alone, is sufficient to decide the degree of credit which
ought to be accorded to the absurd report of Terence having translated
108 plays from Menander.


                                NOTE 36.

                           _A Roman Knight._

The Romans were divided into three classes. 1. _The Patricians_, or
nobility. 2. _The Equites_, or knights. 3. _The Plebeians_, or the
commons: that is, all who were not included in the two first ranks. The
Equites, or knights, were in fact the Roman cavalry, as they usually
had no other: though all of them were men of fortune; it being required
by law (at least under the Emperors, if not before) that each Eques
at his enrolment should possess 400 sestertia: a sum equal to between
3,000_l._ and 4,000_l._ sterling: a person worth double that sum might
be chosen senator. Each knight was provided with a horse, and a gold
ring, at the public expense; and at a general review, which took place
every five years, the Censor was empowered ignominiously to deprive of
his horse, and degrade from his rank, any knight who by disgraceful
conduct had proved himself unworthy of his dignity.


                                NOTE 37.

                        _A garden of XX jugera._

The jugerum, or Roman acre, contained 28,800 feet; consequently,
Terence’s estate must have been equal to rather more than 13 English
acres: and (_as a garden_) must have been of considerable value: land
in Italy, especially in the vicinity of the capital, bearing a high
price; though not so high as in the reign of Trajan, who passed a law
that every candidate for an office should hold a third part of his
property in land. The Romans were particularly partial to gardens; to
improve and beautify them, they bestowed great care, and expended large
sums of money; some of these gardens were of vast extent, and most
magnificently embellished with statues, paintings, aqueducts, &c., as
were those of Cæsar and Sallust.


                                NOTE 38.

                          _The Villa Martis._

The ancient Roman villas were built with extraordinary magnificence,
according to those descriptions of them which have reached modern
times, and are not unworthy of attention. The great pleasure the
Romans took in their villas, and gardens adjoining, may be seen in
the writings of many of the most eminent among them; Varro, Cicero,
Pliny, Cato, and others, have described these delightful retirements
in a particular manner. In the villas of the richest, were concentred
all the attractions that art or nature could be made to yield; and
magnificence was every where blended with convenience. For the site
of a villa of this description they chose the centre of a fine park,
well stocked with game and fish: the building was generally lofty;
(nearly 100 feet in height) for the advantage of an extensive view;
as the _cœnatio_ where the family met at meals was selected in the
upper story. The villa was divided into two parts, called _urbana_ and
_rustica_: the first contained the chambers used by the family and
guests, together with the places of amusement and refreshment; as the
baths, terraces, &c. The _villa rustica_ was that part allotted to the
slaves and domestics, who were extremely numerous. Those who wish for
a minute description of the habits and manners of the Romans, in the
country, may be fully gratified by consulting the following writers
on the subject; Varro and Cato _de re rustica_; Dickson on _Roman
agriculture_; and the works of Columella, and Dionysius Halicarnasseus.


                                NOTE 39.

                              _Afranius._

Lucius Afranius, a comic writer, was contemporary with Terence, and
elevated himself into notice, by his imitations of that favourite poet,
and of his great prototype Menander. Fragments of the compositions of
Afranius are still extant: in his work quoted by Suetonius he probably
gave a poetical description of the festival called Compitalia, or
Compitalitia, and mentioned Terence as the author of comedies, which
had been represented at that festival.


                                NOTE 40.

                             _Compitalia._

The Compitalia or Compitalitia were _originally_ ceremonies, (for
nothing could be more improperly denominated _festivals_) of a nature
at once extraordinary, disgusting and barbarous. It was never possible
to ascertain where, or by whom, they were first instituted; though
it is generally agreed that they were revived by _Servius Tullius_,
the sixth king of Rome, who first introduced the observance of them
among his subjects about the year 200. They were celebrated in honour
of the goddess _Mania_, and of the _Lares_, who were supposed to be
her offspring. The _Lares_ were the household gods of the Romans, and
placed in the innermost recesses of their houses. These household gods
were small images of their ancestors, which they always kept wrapped
in dog’s skin, (which was intended for an emblem of _watchfulness_) as
being for the protection of the house and its inhabitants. They were
also called the _Manes_ of their forefathers, from _Mania_. It was
pretended, that on consulting an oracle respecting the religious means
to be employed for ensuring domestic security, the oracular response
commanded that _Heads should be sacrificed for Heads_, meaning, that as
divine vengeance required the lives of the culprits, the people should
offer the heads of others instead of their own, and accordingly the
Compitalia were instituted on this occasion, and _human victims_ were
on this preposterous pretence sacrificed with a sow, to ensure family
safety. The Romans, however, had too much good sense to suffer a long
continuance of this diabolical folly: and they threw off the yoke of
the tyrannical Tarquin, and this obnoxious custom at the same time.
Lucius Junius Brutus abolished the sacrifice of human beings; and as
the oracle required the offering of heads, he fulfilled its commands
by substituting the heads of onions and poppies. They afterwards made
figures of wool, which they suspended at their doors, imprecating all
misfortunes on the images, instead of themselves. Slaves were allowed
their liberty during the celebration of the Compitalia; and with
freedmen officiated as priests on the occasion. Being rendered harmless
by Brutus’ convenient interpretation of the oracle, the Compitalia were
continued till the reigns of the emperors. The word Compitalia is by
some derived from Compita, crossways, because during the ceremonies,
the statues of the _Lares_ were placed in a spot where several streets
met, and crowned with flowers. I think it not improbable that the
original name was _Capitalia_, from _capita_, _heads_, because _heads_
were the requisite offerings.


                                NOTE 41.

                               _Nævius._

Cneus Nævius flourished about the year 500, and acquired great fame
by some successful comedies which are now lost: he offended Lucius
Cæcilius Metellus, a man of great power, and consular dignity, by whose
influence the unfortunate poet was banished to Africa, where he died.
Volcatius assigns to Nævius the third place.


                                NOTE 42.

                               _Plautus._

Marcus Accius Plautus was a native of Sarsina, a town of Umbria, near
the Adriatic sea, and died at Rome, 182 B. C., at the age of forty,
leaving behind him a literary reputation which very few, of any age
or county, have ever been able to equal. Of those who refused to
allow Plautus the title of the _First comic poet of Rome_, scarcely
any have disputed his right to be second in the list, where Terence
holds the _first_ place: some critics, indeed, have gone so far as
to prefer Plautus, even to Terence himself; but Volcatius Sedigitus,
whose judgment did Terence great injustice, makes Plautus second only
to Cæcilius. The saying of Ælius Stilo is worthy of being recorded;
“Musas Plautino sermone locuturas fuisse, si Latinè loqui vellent,”
_that if the Muses wished to speak in Latin, they would speak in the
language of Plautus_. This celebrated man wrote 27 or 28 comedies,
which, notwithstanding the change of manners, kept possession of the
stage for nearly 500 years; and were performed with applause as late
as the reigns of Carus and Numerian. Only 20 of them are now extant.
The following is the poet’s epitaph, written (as is supposed) by Varro,
though Pietro Crinito affirms it to be the production of Plautus
himself, of whom Crinito has written a biographical account.

    “_Postquam est morte captus Plautus,
    Comœdia luget, scena est deserta,
    Deinde risus, ludus jocusque et numeri
    Innumeri simul omnes collacrymarunt._”

    The comic muse bewails her Plautus dead,
    And silence reigns o’er the deserted stage;
    The joyous train that graced the scene are fled,
    And weep to lose, the wittiest of his age.
    While jests and sports their patron’s death deplore,
    And even laughter, now can smile no more.


                                NOTE 43.

                              _Cæcilius._

Cæcilius Statius was born in Gaul, and raised himself into eminence,
from the condition of a slave, by his poetical talents: he died at Rome
five or six years before the Andrian was first published. Volcatius
gives Cæcilius the first place: Horace draws a sort of comparison
between him and Terence in the following line,

    “Vincere Cæcilius gravitate, Terentius arte.”

                                       _Cæcilius
    Excelled in force, and grandeur of expression,
    Terence in art._

Quintilian tells us, “Cæcilium veteres laudibus serunt.” _The ancients
resounded the praises of Cæcilius._――Also Varro, “Pathè vero, Cæcilius
facile moverat.” That _Cæcilius knew how to interest the passions_.

Cæcilius wrote more than 30 comedies, now lost.


                                NOTE 44.

                              _Licinius._

Publius Licinius Tegula, a comic poet, flourished during the _second
Punic war_. Aulus Gellius mentions him by the name of Caius Licinius
Imbrex, author of a comedy called Neæra, but there can be little doubt
but that Imbrex, and the Tegula above-mentioned were the same person.


                                NOTE 45.

                       _Cicero in his_ ΛΕΙΜΩΝ.

“Cicero wrote a poem, to which he affixed the title of λειμων, a Greek
word signifying _a meadow_; he gave it this name, probably, because,
as meadows are filled with various kinds of flowers, his work was a
numerous collection of flowers (_of literature_) affording an agreeable
variety. This poem, it seems, consisted entirely of panegyrics on
illustrious persons. Nothing can be more erroneous than a supposition
that these verses were the forgery of some grammarian: the Latin is
too elegant, and they are too finely written, to allow us to suppose
them a spurious production; and if Cicero had never written any lines
inferior to these; his fame as a poet, might have equalled his fame as
an orator. Ausonius had these verses in his mind, when he wrote

    Tu quoque qui Latium lecto sermone Terenti,
    Comis, et astricto percurris pulpita socco.

What is still more remarkable, Cæsar commences his lines on Terence, in
Cicero’s words, Tu quoque, &c., for there is not the least doubt but
that Cæsar undertook this work, merely with a view to irritate, and to
contradict Cicero.”

                                                     MADAME DACIER.

The name of Cicero is too well known, to need any further mention here;
suffice it to say, that this great orator was totally unsuccessful in
his poetical attempts, the chief fault of which was want of harmony
in the measure: it may be remarked of Cicero, that very frequently
his prose was written with the music of verse, and his verse with the
roughness of prose.


                                NOTE 46.

                         _Caius Julius Cæsar._

The poem, of which these lines formed a part, is entirely lost; what
remains of it, however, proves Julius Cæsar to have been no mean poet,
but he seems to have excelled in every art of war and peace;――

                          quem Marte, togâque
    Præcipium.

    The first alike in war, and peace.
                                      OVID.

If the lines quoted by Suetonius were written in ridicule of Cicero,
they are another proof in support of an opinion that has been very
prevalent, that the orator was not very high in the good graces of
Cæsar, whose dislike of him may be easily traced to Marc Antony,
Cæsar’s intimate and favourite companion, and the most inveterate enemy
of Cicero.


                                NOTE 47.

                        _The Megalesian Games._

The Megalesian games were celebrated annually at Rome, in the beginning
of April, with solemn feasts, in honour of Cybele, otherwise called
Rhea, the mother of the gods. Opinions vary as to their duration, some
fixing it at six days, and others at not more than one. Originally
instituted in Phrygia, these ceremonies were introduced at Rome, during
the _second Punic war_, when the statue of the goddess was carried
thither from Pessinus. They consisted chiefly of scenic sports; and
women danced before this statue, which was held so sacred, that no
servant was allowed to approach it, or to take any part in the games.
They were called Megalesian, from the Greek words, μεγαλη, great,
Cybele being known by the name of the Great Goddess, and Ευαλωσια,
another name of Cybele, as presiding over husbandry. The festival
ΘΕΣΜΟΦΟΡΙΑ, celebrated in Athens, Sparta, and Thebes, in honour of the
same goddess resembled in many circumstances the Roman Megalesia; the
Latins appear to have adopted partially, on various occasions, the
religious ceremonies of the Greeks, particularly in their imitation
of certain of the solemnities which were observed at the _Eleusinian_
mysteries.


                                NOTE 48.

                           _Curule Ædilate._

The Curule Ædiles, created in the year of Rome 388, were at first
elected from among the patricians. These magistrates were appointed
to inspect all public edifices, (whence their name) to fix the rate
of provisions, to take cognizance of disorders committed within the
city, and to examine weights and measures: but their chief employment
was to procure the celebration of the various Roman games, and to
exhibit comedies and shews of gladiators; on which account, though
inferior in rank to the Consuls, they precede them in the title of
this play. The Ædilate was an honourable office, and a primary step to
higher dignities in the republic. Curule magistrates were those who
were entitled to use the _sella curulis_, viz., the consuls, prætors,
curule ædiles, and censors: this chair was called _curulis_, because
those privileged to use it, always carried it in their chariots, to and
from the tribunals at which they presided. Tacitus informs us in his
annals (_Book XIII. Chap. XXX._) that in the year 809, the power of the
Ædiles, both curule, and plebeian, was very much circumscribed; that
their salary was regulated anew; and limits fixed, as to the sum they
were allowed to impose as a fine.


                                NOTE 49.

                           _Marcus Fulvius._

Son of the Consul for the year 564, and great grandson of the
illustrious Servius Fulvius Pætinus Nobilior, the companion of Regulus;
Pætinus was consul in the year 498. Marcus Fulvius obtained the
consulate eight years after his Ædilate: the name of his colleague
was Cneus Cornelius Dolabella. It is probable that this branch of
the Fulvian family assumed the agnomen of _Nobilior_, to distinguish
themselves as _nobiles_ from the rest of the Fulvii, who might not
have had any claim to that title. None but those, and the posterity
of those, who had borne some curule office, (_vide note 48_) were
_nobiles_, or nobles. The _nobiles_ possessed the exclusive right of
making statues of themselves; which were carefully preserved by their
posterity, and usually carried in procession on solemn occasions: they
painted the faces of these images

                         “Quid prodest, Pontice, longo
    Sanguine censeri, pictosque ostendere vultus
    Majorum.”

                      _What avails it to be thought,
    Of ancient blood? and to expose to view,
    The painted features of dead ancestors?_
                                             JUVENAL.


                                NOTE 50.

                           _Marcus Glabrio._

This person was doubtless distinguished by another appellation which
is not set down in the title to this play: under the name of Glabrio,
there is no account of him extant. As Glabrio does not appear to have
been the name of any _Gens_, or family in Rome, it was probably the
_Agnomen_ of Marcus only, and not common to his kindred.


                                NOTE 51.

             _By the company of Lucius Ambivius Turpio, and
                           Lucius Attilius._

These were the principal actors of their company, but otherwise persons
of little note; for contrary to the customs of Greece, where men of
the highest rank thought it no degradation to appear on the stage; the
actors at the Roman theatres were not treated with that consideration
to which persons of talent, who furnish the public with a polite and
rational amusement, united with instruction, have a just and undeniable
claim. However unjust the Romans might have been in this particular,
they made an exception in favour of transcendent merit; as in the case
of the admirable Roscius, though the mention made of this favourite
performer by his friend Cicero, shews the truth of the foregoing
remark. “Cum artifex ejusmodi sit, ut solus dignus videatur esse qui
in scenâ spectetur; tum vir ejusmodi fuit, ut _solus dignus videatur
qui non accedat_;” _so excellent an actor, that he only seemed worthy
to tread the stage, and yet so noble a man, that he seemed to be the
very last person that ought to appear there_. Though the Roman actors
were not allowed their due privileges as citizens, yet some of the most
eminent were often very great favourites with the people, and created
so much interest among them, that (as Suetonius tells us) the parties
of rival performers disputing for precedence, have proceeded so far as
to terminate the quarrel in bloodshed. Turpio and Attilius were actors
of the first class, and were said (_vid. Terence Phorm:_) _agere primas
partes_, because they always personated the principal characters in the
piece.


                                NOTE 52.

                              _Præneste._

Præneste was a town of Latium, about twenty-four miles from Rome, and
founded by Cæculus, as we are told by _Virgil, B. 7._

    “Nec _Prænestinæ fundator_ defuit _urbis_,
    _Vulcano genitum_que omnis quem credidit ætas
    _Cæculus_.”

    Nor was the founder of Præneste absent,
    Cæculus, the reputed son of Vulcan.

Præneste was deemed a place of military importance, from its situation,
and Cicero (_in Catal._) tells us that Catiline, when foiled in his
attempt to seize the capital, endeavoured to make himself master of
Præneste. This town was particularly celebrated for very cold springs,
which were held in high esteem, as Strabo assures us, and Horace
mentions the circumstance in one of his odes.

                        “seu mihi _frigidum
    Præneste_, seu Tibur supinum,
    Seu liquidæ placuere Baiæ.”


                                NOTE 53.

                 _Equal flutes right and left handed._

Flutes were called in Latin _tibiæ_, because they were made of the
shank or shin-bone of some animal, until the discovery of the art of
boring flutes, when they began to use wood,

           “_Longave multifori delectat tibia buxi._”――OVID.

The manner in which these instruments were played on the stage, and
the distinction of right- and left-handed flutes, has never been
ascertained with any degree of certainty: few subjects have more
obstinately baffled the researches of the learned. The most perspicuous
detail of all that the moderns are acquainted with respecting the
ancient flutes, is written by the learned Madame Dacier, part of which
is quoted in the Preface to this Translation.


                                NOTE 54.

                     _It is taken from the Greek._

All Terence’s comedies were of this class, which was called _Palliatæ_,
viz., plays in which the scene was laid in Greece. The class, called
_Togatæ_, were pieces entirely Roman. The palliatæ were generally _new_
comedies, of which Menander was the inventor; but Pacuvius wrote the
_middle_, and Livius Andronicus the _old_ comedy. (_Vide Note 33._)
In the age in which Terence wrote his comedies, the Romans were some
degrees less advanced in the refinements of civilization, than the
Greeks. But little more than a century before, Pyrrhus, king of Epirus,
thought them worthy of no better epithet than that of “_barbarians_”
in comparison with his own subjects, who were not themselves the
most polished nation in the world. The Romans, therefore, omitted no
opportunity of improving the manners and perfecting the education of
their youth, by sending them to mix with the Greeks, and to unite
themselves to the disciples of those Grecian sages, who, as far as the
light of reason, unassisted by _divine revelation_, could penetrate,
dispelled the clouds of ignorance, and taught their followers that
happiness and wisdom can be attained only by the virtuous. It was,
doubtless, on this account, that Terence chose Greece as the scene
of his comedies, which he intended should portray to the Romans the
manners, customs, and characters of those whom they often held up as
a pattern of polished refinement, worthy the imitation of the rising
generation.

It is to this, doubtless, that we must attribute Terence’s choice
of Athens in preference to Rome as the scene of his plays; as,
particularly, in the comedy which the critics call the _comedy of
intrigue_, the best judges agree that the scene is preferably laid in
that country in which it is meant to be performed. But the comedies of
Terence were more of that description which Dr. Blair denominates the
_comedy of character_, and preferable to what he calls the _comedy of
intrigue_, because “it exhibits the prevailing manners which mark the
character of the age in which the scene is laid. _Incidents_ should
afford a proper field for the exhibition of character: the action
in comedy, though it demands the poet’s care in order to render it
animated and natural, is a less significant and important part of the
performance than the action in tragedy; as, in comedy, it is what men
say, and how they behave, that draws our attention, rather than what
they perform or what they suffer.”


                                NOTE 55.

            _The consulate of Marcus Claudius Marcellus, and
                        Cneus Sulpicius Galba._

The consuls, the chief magistrates of the Roman republic were first
created at the expulsion of the kings in the year 244: they were two in
number, and chosen annually. The consuls were the head of the _Senate_,
which they assembled and dismissed at pleasure, though it was not
their exclusive privilege, as a dictator, his master of the horse, the
prætors, military tribunes, and even the tribunes of the people, might
also, on certain occasions, assemble the Senate. The consuls, however,
were the supreme judges of all differences; they commanded the armies
of the republic, and, during their consulate, enjoyed almost unbounded
power, which could only be checked by the creation of a dictator,
to whom the consuls were subordinate. It was requisite that every
candidate for the consulship should be _forty-three_ years of age, and
that he should previously have discharged the functions of Prætor,
Ædile, and Quæstor. The consuls were always patricians till the year
388, when, by the influence of their tribunes, the people obtained a
law, that henceforth one of them should be a plebeian. The ensigns of
consular dignity were twelve guards, called _lictors_, (who bore the
_fasces_,) and a robe, fringed with purple, worn by these magistrates,
during their consulate. The names of the consuls are mentioned in the
title of this play, merely to fix its date, as the Roman method of
reckoning their years was by the names of the consuls. This custom
continued for 1,300 years. Marcus Claudius Marcellus was the grandson
of the great Marcellus, slain in the year 545; for Caius Sulpicius
Galba, _vide_ Note 27.


                                NOTE 56.

                              _Prologue._

Madame Dacier grounds on the first line of this Prologue an opinion,
that the Andrian was not Terence’s first play: but, if that learned
and justly-celebrated lady had attentively considered the relation
the sixteen following lines of the Prologue bear to the first, she
could not have made this deviation from her usual extreme accuracy.
Whether the Andrian was, or was not, our Author’s first production, is
a question of more curiosity than real importance: it has, however,
undergone some discussion among the learned; and, in my opinion, it may
be clearly ascertained by an attentive perusal of the Prologue to the
Andrian, and learned and unlearned are equally competent to decide upon
it. Let us now examine the proof. The first seven lines inform us,
that “when the poet began to write, he thought he had only to please
the people, but that he finds it far otherwise; as he is obliged to
write a Prologue to answer the objections of an older bard.”

If we stop here, it is natural enough to conclude, that in the Prologue
to the Andrian, he is alluding to censures passed on some former play.
But, if we look at the next nine lines we see that _in the prologue to
the Andrian_, he repels a censure _not passed on any former production,
but on the_ ANDRIAN _itself_. Listen, says he, to their objections,
which are, in short, that in the composition of _this very Andrian_, he
has made a confused mixture of two of Menander’s plays. What allusion
is made to any former writings? None: the snarling criticisms of the
older bard were directed _only_ against the _Andrian_. I imagine
that the case was thus: Terence wrote the Andrian, and procured its
representation, probably without any Prologue, (which was sometimes
dispensed with, as we see in Plautus,) the play, and its author, were,
probably, cried down and abused by this older bard and his admirers,
who might envy the visible superiority of Terence, who _afterwards_
composed the Prologue in question, to answer their objections. The
reader is referred for further proof, to Suetonius’s Life of Terence, a
translation of which is prefixed to this play.


                                NOTE 57.

           _To answer the snarling malice of an older poet._

According to Donatus, the name of this older bard was Lucius Lavinius:
but there can be little doubt but that name is a corruption of Luscius
Lanuvinus, the arch-enemy of Terence, whom he handles so roughly in
his Prologue to the Eunuch. Luscius was a poet of considerable talent.
Volcatius gives him the ninth place,

    “Nono loco esse facilè facio Luscium.”
   
    Luscius undoubtedly I make the ninth.


                                NOTE 58.

              _Menander wrote the Andrian and Perinthian._

The _Perinthian_ (a fine comedy now lost) was so called from Perinthus,
a town of Thrace, the name of which was afterwards changed to Heraclea,
and that name is now corrupted to Herecli, or Erekli, its present
appellation. Erekli is a town in the Turkish province of Romania,
on the north of the sea of Marmora, and about sixty miles from
Constantinople. It is a place of some consequence from its vicinity to
the Turkish capital. For the _Andrian_, _vide_ Note 69.


                                NOTE 59.

                _They censure Nævius, Plautus, Ennius._

An account of Nævius has been given in Note 41, and of Plautus in Note
42. Ennius was the tenth comic poet of Rome, according to Volcatius,
who says, “Antiquitatis causâ decimum addo Ennium.” If it be true that
Ennius was but the tenth in poetical merit, the greatest glory of the
nine who were above him, must have been the distinguished honour of
excelling this highly extolled poet. Ennius was born in the year of
Rome 515, and died in 585; though he obtained the privileges of a Roman
citizen, he was, by birth, a Calabrian, as _Ovid_ expressly tells us,
and informs us, that his statue was placed on the tomb of the Scipios,
because he had so nobly celebrated their renowned actions:

    “Ennius emeruit, Calabris in montibus ortus,
    Contiguus poni, Scipio, magne tibi.”

    _Ennius, among Calabrian mountains born,
    Deserves, O Scipio, to be placed by thee._

The reader cannot become acquainted with the enthusiastic admiration of
the Romans for the brilliant performances of Ennius, better than by a
perusal of some of the many and great encomiums passed on him by those
who, though they lived after him, may be called his competitors for
literary fame. _Cicero_ calls him,

“Ingeniosus, poeta et auctor valde bonus.”――_A man of great abilities
and wit, and an admirable writer both of poetry and of prose._ _Horace_
also

    “Ennius et sapiens, et fortis, et alter Homerus.”

    _Ennius the wise, and strong, another Homer._

_Quintilian_ speaks of him thus, “Ennium sicut sacros vetustate lucos
adoremus, in quibus grandia et antiqua robora jam non tantam speciem
habent quam religionem.”――_We revere Ennius, as we revere the groves,
sacred for their antiquity, in which the great and ancient oaks are not
reckoned precious for their beauty, but because they are consecrated to
religious purposes._

_Lucretius_ thus,

    “Ennius―――――――――――――― primus amœno
    Detulit ex Helicone perenni fronde coronam.”

    _Ennius first wore the never-fading crown,
    Gain’d at the Muses’ seat, the pleasant Helicon._

And, lastly, _Ovid_,

    “Ennius ingenio maximus, arte rudis.”

    _Ennius, the first in wit, though wanting art._

Ennius wrote tragedies, comedies, annals, _&c._, of which some
fragments remain: he died of the gout, brought on by drinking. _Horace_
tells us, that Ennius was in the habit of raising his imagination by
large draughts of wine, when he intended to write a description of any
warlike action.


                                NOTE 60.

                Simo. _Carry in these things directly._

What “_those things_” were, though a subject of no great importance,
has been discussed with extreme diligence by various learned
commentators, who have not a little differed in opinion. The idea of a
French commentator, who supposed Simo to allude to furniture bought by
him for his son’s wedding, is ridiculed by the learned Madame Dacier,
who has herself suffered the same treatment under the hands of some
of our English critics, for interpreting them in the sense I have
adopted. That Simo should provide furniture for a marriage which he had
but slight hopes of negotiating at that time, is not very probable.
But Athenian slaves performed all domestic offices in their masters’
houses: and Sosia, even after he became a freedman might have practised
cookery, in which, perhaps, he excelled. He uses the words “_mea ars_,”
_my art_, and Simo answers him with “_isthac arte_,” _that art_, by
which it is clear that he means some particular art. The word art has
in English both a general and particular sense; but, in Latin, “_ars_”
is generally used only in the latter.

   “Rara quidem facie, sed rarior _arte_ canendi.”――OVID.

    _Her beauty charms us; and oh! how much more
    Her matchless skill in_ arts _of melody._

Again,

    “Hac _arte_ Pollux, et vagus Hercules
    Innixus, arces attigit igneas.”――HORACE.

                      _Supported by this_ art,
    _Pollux and Hercules were raised to heaven._

Sosia speaks in this character also at the end of the scene, “Sat est
_curabo_,” curo, meaning to cook; he uses also more than once the
word _rectè_, which is peculiarly a term of cookery, thus “_rectiùs
cœnare_,” PLAUTUS; and, at Rome, when patrons invited their clients or
followers to supper, where a very plentiful banquet was always served
up: the supper was particularly designated CŒNA RECTA. The art of
cookery, in Greece, was, in the earlier ages, far from being accounted
degrading, and was, indeed, frequently practised by men very far above
a servile station.

I mention this, lest those who are unacquainted with these customs,
might object against our author, that _Simo_ was guilty of an
inconsistent condescension, in making a confidant of one who held an
office of this nature.


                                NOTE 61.

                 _When I first bought you as my slave._

Slaves, among the Greeks, formed a very considerable portion of the
population of a city, and, in some places, were more numerous than the
citizens themselves. In Athens, all domestic offices were performed by
slaves, who were employed also in the capacities of tutors, scribes,
stewards, overseers, and husbandmen, according to their respective
talents: when a slave manifested great abilities, he was taught the art
or science for which he seemed most fitted. Some were instructed in
literature, and often so distinguished themselves by their writings,
that they obtained their freedom. The slaves of the Athenians were
either taken in war, or purchased, or reduced to slavery for some
crime: they were divided into _two_ classes: 1. those who were natives
of some part of Greece, who had the privilege of redeeming themselves;
who, if cruelly treated, might appeal to the archons, and change their
master; and whose lives were not in their master’s power; 2. those
slaves who were transported from barbarous nations, who were wholly at
the disposal of their owners in every respect. The price of a slave
varied according to his qualifications; some were worth about 10_l._
sterling, some were valued at 20_l._, and others much higher. The
Athenians were celebrated for the gentleness with which they treated
their slaves. Xenophon informs us, that they frequently spoiled them
by excessive indulgence. Slaves were made free, if they rendered any
essential service to the government; and frequently received their
liberty as a reward for their fidelity and attachment to their master,
and his family. For further information respecting the Athenian slaves,
and remarks on their habits and manners, _vide_ Notes 62, 63, 64, 68, 86,
88, 110, 131, 154ᴮ, 195, 196.


                                NOTE 62.

                         _I gave you freedom._

The ceremony of Ἀπελεύθερια, or giving a slave his liberty, was
performed in Athens as follows, the slave kneeled down at the feet
of his master, who struck him a slight blow, saying, “_Be free_;” or
he took the slave before a magistrate, and there formally declared
him at liberty. These ceremonies were extremely similar to those
used by the Romans on the same occasion. The Greeks sometimes
set their slaves at liberty in a public assembly, which Æschines
describes as follows, Ἄλλοι δέ τινες ὑποκηρυξάμενοι, τοὺς αὑτῶν
οἰκέτας ἀφίεσαν ἀπελευθέρους, μάρτυρας τῆς ἀπελευθερίας τοὺς Ἕλληνας
ποιούμενοι.”――_Others, when they had obtained silence by means of
the heralds, gave their household slaves their liberty; and made the
assembled Greeks witnesses of their manumission._

The same author mentions a very singular law, which stigmatized
with infamy any person who should proclaim the freedom of a slave
in the theatre. “Καὶ διαῤῥήδην ἀπαγορεύει μήτε οἰκέτην ἀπελευθεροῦν
ἐν τῷ θεάτρῳ――――――――ἢ ἄτιμον εἶναι τὸν κήρυκα.”――_And_ this law
_clearly forbids that any person shall manumit a slave in the
theatre――――――――and decrees infamy to the herald who shall proclaim his
freedom there_.

Slaves were called οἰκέται, and πελάται, but, after they became free,
received the appellation of ἀπελεύθεροι, and enjoyed all the privileges
granted to the νόθοι, or illegitimate citizens, who were not admitted
to all the rights of those whose parents were both freeborn Athenian
citizens. It was usual for a freedman to continue with his master, who
was called his προστατης, or patron; he was also allowed to choose a
sort of guardian, who was called ἐπίτροπος.


                                NOTE 63.

            _Nor have you given me any cause to repent that I
                                did so._

An emancipated slave was bound to perform certain services for his
former master: he was to assist him in any emergency to the utmost of
his power: and, if he proved remiss in these duties, was liable to
a severe punishment. No freedman could appear in a court of justice
against his patron, either to give evidence in his own suit, or in that
of another.


                                NOTE 64.

  _It pains me to be thus reminded of the benefits you have conferred
     upon me, as it seems to upbraid me with having forgotten them._

By the Athenian laws, any freedman convicted of ingratitude to his
former master, was reduced a second time to a state of slavery: but,
if a freedman was brought to a trial on a charge of this nature, and
acquitted of it, he was declared τελέως ἐλεύθερος, _perfectly free_,
and was then wholly released from all obligations of service to his
former patron.


                                NOTE 65.

            _You shall hear every thing from the beginning._

This is the _initium narrationis_, the first part of the narration,
and, by far the longest: it is, in the original, inimitably beautiful.
Scarcely any branch of dramatic writing is more difficult than
_narration_, which, unless composed in that happy vein, attainable by
so few, generally proves embarrassing to the actor, and tiresome to the
auditors. The writings of Terence abound with narrations, a necessary
consequence of his strict adherence to the unities. A judicious French
writer, whose opinions (_as a critic_,) have ever been treated with
deference, speaking of our author’s excellence in this branch of the
drama, makes his eulogium in just and forcible terms.

     “Terence is without a rival, especially in his narrations,
     which flow along with a smooth and even course, like a
     clear and transparent river. We see no parade of sentiment,
     no glare of obtrusive wit: no smart epigrammatical
     sentences, which Nicole and Rochefoucault only can make
     acceptable. When he applies a maxim, it is in so plain and
     familiar a manner, that it has all the simplicity of a
     proverb. He introduces nothing but what appertains to the
     subject. I have perused, and re-perused the writings of
     this poet with the greatest attention, and have laid them
     aside with the impression that there is not a scene too
     much in any play, nor a line too much in any scene.”
                                    DIDEROT _on dramatic poetry_.

For further remarks on the narrations of the Andrian, _vide_ Notes.
Nos. 89. 95. 101. I shall postpone a continuance of observations on
the very obvious inconvenience attendant on narrations; and pursue a
remark made in the commencement of this note, respecting the source
from which has flowed so many of these narrations, which require all
the _art_ and wit of a Terence to prevent them from seeming too prolix.

This source may be found in those irksome _unities_ of _time_ and
_place_, those leaden fetters of dramatic genius, which, by chaining
down the imagination and talents of many of the ancient, and even some
of the modern, dramatic writers, have deprived the world of more, than
the embellishments they may have given to composition can ever repay.

Terence, in all his works, in compliance with the reigning taste of
his age, observed the unities of _action_, _time_, and _place_, with
the most scrupulous exactness: and this observance is the chief reason
that his comedies can never succeed on any modern stage. His plays
are crowded with narratives, which, however beautifully written, will
never yield that attraction to an audience, which they find in busy
and lively action. He cannot bring on the stage what is supposed to
happen in the next street, or adjoining house, it must therefore be
_related_. All the story of the piece _must_ be supposed to pass in a
very few hours: all those events which cannot be imagined to take place
in _one day_, and which, when represented to the spectators in the
_modern drama_, are often of the greatest interest, must, by the law
of the unity of time be _related_. Of what a scene, to instance one of
_many_, has the unity of place robbed us in Terence’s Eunuch! where
Laches (_Act 5_) rushes into the house of Thais. How many modern plays,
in which the unities were preserved, ever kept the stage a month?
None: if we except Ben Jonson’s “_Silent Woman_,” “_The Adventures
of Five Hours_,” and a very few others; and it may well be doubted
whether even our immortal SHAKSPEARE himself, if he had shackled his
genius with these rules, would not have been generally confined to the
closet. The practice of that great poet, and of most of the modern
dramatists of all countries; who have observed _only_ (the rule of all
stages, ancient and modern,) unity of action, is a tacit condemnation
of the other two: and the fiat of Dr. Johnson speaks a yet plainer
language. He has decided on the value of the unities in his preface to
Shakspeare: and though what he has written respecting them is too long
to be inserted here, the following extracts will not be unacceptable,
as they shew the grounds on which it is assumed that dramatic writers
ought, in general, to dispense with the unities of _time_ and _place_.

“The critics hold it impossible, that an action of months or years can
be possibly believed to pass in three hours. The spectator, who knows
that he saw the first act at Alexandria, cannot suppose that he sees
the next at Rome; he knows that he has not changed his place, and that
the place cannot change itself; that what was a house can never become
a plain; that what was Thebes, can never be Persepolis. Such is the
triumphant language with which a critic exults over the miseries of an
irregular poet; it is time, therefore, to tell him, that he assumes as
an unquestionable principle, a position, which, while his breath is
forming it into words, his understanding pronounces to be false. It
is false, that any representation is mistaken for reality; that any
dramatic fable, in its materiality was ever credible, or, for a single
moment, was ever credited. The objection arising from the impossibility
of passing the first hour at Alexandria, and the next at Rome, supposes
that when the play opens, the spectator really imagines himself at
Alexandria; and believes that his walk to the theatre has been a voyage
to Egypt, and that he lives in the days of Antony and Cleopatra.
Surely he that can imagine this may imagine more. He that can take
the stage at one time for the Palace of the Ptolemies, may take it in
half an hour for the promontory of Actium: delusion, if delusion be
admitted, has no certain limitation. The truth is, that (judicious)
spectators are always in their senses, and know from the first act to
the last, that the stage is only a stage, and that the players are
only players: and by supposition as place is introduced, time may be
extended.” Dr. Johnson concludes this subject as follows; “He that,
_without diminution_ of any other _excellence_, shall preserve all the
unities unbroken, deserves the like applause with the architect, who
shall display all the orders of architecture in a citadel, without any
deduction from its strength; but the principal beauty of a citadel is
to exclude the enemy; and the greatest graces of a play are to copy
nature, and instruct life.”

It is needless to add any thing to these arguments, as they must be
deemed conclusive. The plays of our author are better calculated,
perhaps, to please in the closet by his mode of writing, as it adds
to perspicuity: Terence is, probably, the greatest practical champion
for the three unities that ever did, or ever will, exist. His easy
flowing _narratives_, judiciously divided, and introduced with so much
art, as in some places to seem no narratives until they are concluded,
remedy as much as possible the inconveniences attendant on this mode of
writing.


                                NOTE 66.

            _When my son Pamphilus arrived at man’s estate._

In the Latin, _postquam excessit ex Ephebis_, _after he was removed
from the class of young men called_ ἔφηβοι.

All the Athenian citizens were publicly registered three several
times. 1. In their _infancy_, on the _second day_ of the festival
ἀπατούρια, called ἀνάῤῥυσις. 2. When they were _18 years of age_, they
were registered on the _third day_ of the ἀπατούρια, called κουρεῶτις,
when they received the title of ἔφηβοι. 3. At _20 years of age_, they
were registered for the last time at the feast called βενδίδεια on
the 19th of the month, Thargelion, when they were said to be admitted
“_among the men_.” These ceremonies were used to prevent the intrusion
of persons, who had no claim to the title of Athenian citizen, which
was an honour, that even foreign kings thought worthy of their pursuit.
Having quitted the class of the ἔφηβοι, Pamphilus, at the time
mentioned by Simo, must have been 20 years of age.


                                NOTE 67.

                   _The schools of the Philosophers._

Several schools of Philosophy were established at Athens, in which
philosophers of different sects presided, and gave instructions to
those of Athens, and of other countries, whose fortunes allowed them
leisure to pursue studies of this nature. The buildings in which the
philosophers delivered their lectures were provided at the public
expense: they were called _Gymnasia_, and built in divisions, some for
study called στοαὶ, and others for various exercises, as wrestling,
pugilism, dancing, &c.; these were denominated παλαίστρα. The
principal _Gymnasia_ in Athens were the Lyceum, where Aristotle taught;
the academy, in which Plato presided; and, lastly, the Cynosarges,
which gave the name of Cynics to that sect of philosophers, founded in
this place by Antisthenes. (_vid. Plutarch’s Life of Themistocles_).


                                NOTE 68.

         _In these times flattery makes friends; truth, foes._

Madame Dacier has elucidated this passage in an elegant and ingenious
criticism, which clears Pamphilus from the charge of flattery which
Sosia appears to insinuate against him. The sentence in the original
runs thus: “namque hoc tempore _obsequium amicos veritas odium parit_.”
“When Simo spoke of the obliging temper of his son, he intended to
describe him as behaving with that complaisant politeness which is as
remote as possible from flattery; the practice of which never requires
of a man any thing inconsistent with the laws of truth and candour;
otherwise he would have blamed his son, instead of praising him. But
Sosia, following the example of people of his own rank, who always look
on the dark side of every thing, takes this opportunity of censuring
the manners of the age, by declaring that people were unwilling to
hear the truth. Thus he mistakes _obsequium_, which really means _an
amiable mildness of manners_, for _assentatio_, _servile flattery_, a
vice which shows weakness of mind, and baseness of heart: and which
renders those of our friends who practise it, more dangerous than even
our enemies themselves. There is more ingenuity in this passage than
appears at first sight.”

                                                          MADAME DACIER.

For some further very valuable critical observations, the reader is
referred to the preface to a translation of Phædrus’s fables, published
at Paris, about the middle of the 17th century. Besides very able
remarks on the Andrian, and the rest of Terence’s plays, the translator
gives an ingenious comparison between fable and comedy; he also
translated into French, three of Terence’s comedies, viz., The Andrian,
The Brothers, and Phormio.


                                NOTE 69.

                        _The Island of Andros._

This island is situated in the Ægean sea, or, as it is now called, the
Archipelago; it is distant from the Piræus, or port of Athens, about
500 of the stadia Olympica, or rather more than 50 English miles.
It retains its original appellation. Bacchus seems to have been the
reputed patron of this island; which was also called Antandros, and
has been mistaken by some for the Antandros of Phrygia Minor, where
Æneas built his fleet. _Vide_ Ovid’s Meta. Book 13, l. 623 to 670.


                                NOTE 70.

                    _The neglect of her relations._

The relations of unmarried women in Greece were bound by law to provide
for them, either by seeing them married to some suitable person, or to
furnish them with the means of support according to their rank in life;
or if a woman had no near kindred, this duty devolved upon a guardian
called κυριος. It is probable that this obligation extended equally
to the paternal and maternal relations, though the latter generally
acted only in case of the former becoming extinct. Terence warrants
the supposition of relations on both sides, being compelled to act,
as he uses the word _cognatus_, which signifies strictly a relation
by the mother’s side, _agnatus_, on the contrary, is never employed
but to designate a kinsman by the father’s side, though _cognatus_ is
often used as a common term for both; and such is its meaning in this
passage: for if the law had been confined to the father’s relations,
Terence would certainly have used _agnatus_, and thereby clearly
designated the particular persons who were bound to observe it.


                                NOTE 71.

                      _The distaff and the loom._

The Greek and Roman women led generally very domesticated lives, and
passed a considerable portion of their time in spinning and weaving.
The simple manners of the earlier ages obliged each family to depend,
in a great measure, on itself, for the supply of its various wants,
and the kings and heroes of antiquity, might doubly prize a mantle or
a vest, wrought by the hands of those who were dearest to them. Wool
was usually worn; but linen, though highly valued, seems to have been
but rarely used. When the Greeks became more refined, this simplicity
of manners among women of rank gave place to less laborious habits, and
slaves were instructed in the art of spinning and weaving.


                                NOTE 72.

           _Several lovers made their addresses to her, &c._

This passage has been elegantly and chastely softened by an ingenious
French writer, who flourished about the year 1650. I shall subjoin in
this, and other subsequent notes, the various alterations made by this
judicious editor, together with the original passages: the lines he
has introduced are beautifully written, and a close imitation of the
style of Terence: I cannot doubt but they will be considered worthy of
a perusal: they are a proof of a laudable delicacy, which was but too
rarely to be met with in many of the poets of both England and France,
_in the 17th century_.

The original passage runs thus:――

    “Primùm hæc pudicè vitam, parcè, ac duriter
    Agebat, lana ac tela victum quæritans:
    Sed postquam amans accessit, _pretium pollicens,
    Unus, et item alter, ita ut ingenium est omnium
    Hominum ab labore proclive ad libidinem:
    Accepit conditionem, dein_ quæstum occipit.”

Which is altered by the French translator to the following:――

    “Primum hæc pudicè vitam, parce, ac duriter
    Agebat, lana ac tela victum quæeritans:
    _Sed postquam ad illam accessit adolescentulus_,
    Unus, et item alter; ita ut ingenium est omnium
    Hominum ab labore _proclive ad desidiam;
    Sperans se cuipiam illorum uxorem fore,
    Famæ haud pepercit, illosque in domum suam
    Lubens admisit nimium familiariter_.

“At first she lived chastely, and penuriously, and laboured hard,
managing with difficulty to gain a livelihood with the distaff and the
loom: but soon after several lovers made their addresses to her, and
as we are all naturally prone to idleness, and averse to labour, and
_as they made her promises of marriage, she was too negligent of her
reputation, and admitted their visits oftener than was prudent_.”


                                NOTE 73.

                    _Aha! thought I, he is caught._

In the Latin, Certè captus est. HABET. Terence borrowed this expression
(_habet_) from the amphitheatre at Rome, where men called _gladiators_,
who were (for the chief part) captives and slaves, fought before the
people: who looked with great delight on these combats, which often
terminated in death to half the persons engaged. When a gladiator was
wounded, the people exclaimed HABET, _he has it_, and thus the word was
often used at Rome, in the sense adopted by Terence.


                                NOTE 74.

             _He paid his share, and supped with the rest._

In the Latin _symbolum dedit_, _he gave his ring as a token, or
pledge_. This phrase is an allusion to a custom which prevailed chiefly
at Rome. When a party agreed to dine together at their own expense,
or, in other words, to club together for an entertainment: each of
the party _gave his ring_ to him who had the care of providing the
feast, as a symbol or token that he, the owner of the ring, was to join
the company, and defray his share of the expense. Hence, he who paid
nothing, was called _asymbolus_. Rings were also given in contracts
instead of a bond: and used for tokens of various kinds. The Greeks
also seem to have called rings by the same name, σύμβολα.


                                NOTE 75.

            _To give his daughter to Pamphilus with a large
                                dowry._

The word dowry, which is called, in Greek, προὶξ, or μείλια, or ἕδνα,
originally meant the sum which a man gave to the family of the woman
he married, and with which he might be said to purchase his wife:
but, as the Greeks grew more refined, and also more wealthy, this
custom was wholly abolished; and the dowry was given by the wife’s
relations to the husband, to assist him in the maintenance of her and
of her children. The dowries of women were, in Athens, considered a
subject of great importance; and many laws were framed by the Athenian
legislators, (particularly by Solon,) to provide for the well ordering
of women’s fortunes. An heiress could be disposed of in marriage,
only by her father, grandfather, or brother: if she had neither of
these relations, the archons determined who was to be her husband; and
it was held so important to keep her estate in the family, that _at
one time_ a law prevailed, that if an heiress had no children by her
first husband, she was taken from him by the authority of the archons,
and given to her nearest relation. A wife, who brought a fortune to
her husband, was called γυνὴ; she who brought none παλλακὴ. Solon,
apprehensive of mercenary unions, at one time, passed a law, that a
woman should carry to her husband only some furniture, and four or five
changes of dress. But this seems to have been little observed.

The large dowry which _Simo_ says _Chremes_ offered with Philumena,
we may fairly suppose to have been twenty talents, as _Chremes_
imagined he had but one daughter to portion off; when he had discovered
_Glycera_, he gave her a dowry of ten talents; and we must suppose that
he reserved as much more for _Philumena_. This will give us an idea
of what the portions of the Athenian women usually were, and of the
fortune of a citizen.

Twenty Greek talents were nearly equal to 5,000_l._ sterling, according
to some authors, though writers differ widely as to the amount of the
Attic talent; Dr. Arbuthnot makes it equal to 193_l._ 15_s._, Mr.
Raper to 232_l._ 3_s._ It is agreed on all sides that the Attic talent
consisted of 6,000 drachmæ; but the value of the drachma was never
correctly ascertained. _Vide_ the table of monies in Note 208.


                                NOTE 76.

                         _I contracted my son._

The Athenian youth were not allowed to dispose of themselves in
marriage without consulting their parents, who had almost unlimited
authority over them: if they had no parents, guardians, called
ἐπίτροποι, were appointed to control them.

But it does not appear that any particular ceremonies were used in
Athens, in contracting a bride and bridegroom, previous to the day of
marriage; and I rather imagine, Terence, in order to make the subject
clear to his Roman auditors, alluded, by the word _despondi_, to the
_Roman custom of betrothing_, called _sponsalia_, which they performed
as follows:――

Some days before the wedding, the intended bride and bridegroom, with
their friends, met together at the lady’s residence, and the parent
or guardian of each (as I imagine) asked each other, _Spondes? Do you
betroth her or him?_ Then the other party answered, _Spondeo, I do
betroth, &c._ Then the deeds were signed, the dowry agreed on, and the
day appointed for the marriage.


                                NOTE 77.

            _Among the women who were there I saw one young
                                 girl._

Women were frequently hired on these occasions, to appear in the
funeral procession as mourners, of whom Horace says,

    “Ut quæ conductæ plorant in funere, dicunt
    Et faciunt propè plura dolentibus ex animoque.”

    Like those, who, hired to weep at funerals,
    Exceed, in noisy grief, a faithful friend.



                                NOTE 78.

  _She appeared more afflicted than the others who were there, and so
     pre-eminently beautiful, and of so noble a carriage, I approach._

To understand the full force of Simo’s remark, when he says how much
he was struck with the contrast between Glycera and the rest of the
mourners, it is necessary that the reader should be informed, that, in
Athens, no woman under sixty years of age was allowed to appear at a
funeral; except the relations of the deceased. Solon imposed this law
upon the Athenians.


                                NOTE 79.

          _I approach the women who were following the body._

Literally, the women who were _walking_ after the body. Though those
women who were hired to follow a corpse, _walked_ in procession,
it was very usual in Greece, to attend funerals in carriages, and
on horseback: but Chrysis, not being represented as a citizen, the
ceremonies, in respect to the procession, must be supposed to be
different. The interment of the dead was considered of such extreme
importance throughout the whole of Greece, that to want the rites of
sepulture, was deemed by the natives of that country, a much greater
misfortune than even death itself. The Greeks (and many other nations)
believed that the spirit of a person whose corpse was unburied, could
never obtain admittance to the Elysian fields: their imaginary place of
reward for virtuous men after death. Two different methods of disposing
of the dead prevailed in Greece. The most ancient of the two (as is
generally allowed,) was much the same as the modern practice, the
corpse was interred in a coffin, and deposited in the earth. The other
mode was to burn the body, and to preserve the ashes. The Athenians
seem to have used both methods indiscriminately: their funerals were
usually conducted by torch-light. On the third or fourth day after
death, (though the time was varied according to circumstances,) the
corpse was placed on a bier, with the feet towards the door; and an
obolus put into its mouth, to defray the passage across the Styx: a
certain form of words was then pronounced over the body, which was
afterwards carried out, and followed by the mourners: those of the same
sex as the deceased were to be nearest the corpse: when it was placed
on the pile, and a second form of words recited over it, some one of
the mourners, (usually the nearest relation,) applied a torch to the
wood; and, if the deceased was of high rank, animals of various kinds,
and sometimes even _human victims_, were slaughtered, and thrown into
the flames. The ashes of the dead were collected from the extinguished
pile into an urn, and with some further ceremonies deposited in a
sepulchre. The Romans burned their dead in a similar manner. For a
further mention of Greek funerals, _vide_ Notes 77, 78, 80, 81.


                                NOTE 80.

                  _We follow, and arrive at the tomb._

Tombs, called by the Greeks τάφοι, or τύμβοι, which signify both
the grave and the monument, were not allowed to be within the city
of Athens, but were placed either in the public burial-place, or in
private grounds belonging to the relatives of the deceased: it was not
unusual to erect them by the road side at some distance from the city,
whence the expression, so common on monuments, _Siste Viator_, _Stay
Traveller_. The public burial-place of the Athenians was in that part
of the Ceramicus situated beyond the city: it was very extensive. The
other part of the Ceramicus contained the old forum, called ἀρχαία
ἀγορὰ.


                                NOTE 81.

  _The corpse is placed on the pile, and quickly enveloped in flames;
     they weep; while the sister I was speaking of, rushed forward,
     in an agony of grief, toward the fire; and her imprudence
     exposed her to great danger._

An eminent English poet, Sir Richard Steele, has endeavoured to
adapt Terence’s Andrian to the taste of an English audience, and has
succeeded in that attempt, in his play, called _The Conscious Lovers_,
as well as circumstances would permit. A French poet of equal eminence,
Monsieur Baron, has made a similar attempt in French verse, and has
met with equal success in his Andrienne: he has kept much closer to
the original than has Sir Richard Steele; indeed, many scenes of the
Andrienne are a literal version of Terence. I purpose to point out
the most material changes which the two modern poets have made in the
incidents: the bent of the dramatic taste of the nation of each, may be
discovered, in some measure, from a comparison between the _English_,
the _French_, and the _Roman_ dramatist. M. Baron has not made any
alteration in the scene at Chrysis’ funeral, where Simo discovers his
son’s attachment to Glycera; but Sir R. Steele, has altered the mode
of discovery to _a quarrel at a masquerade_; and his scene, though it
may want the pathos of the original, yet displays the filial affection
of Bevil, the English Pamphilus, in a very amiable light. Sir Richard
has modernized the characters of Simo and Sosia in Sir John Bevil and
Humphrey.

     “_Sir J._ You know I was, last Thursday, at the masquerade:
     my son, you may remember, soon found us out. He knew his
     grandfather’s habit, which I then wore, and though it was
     in the mode of the last age, yet the maskers followed us,
     as if we had been the most monstrous figures in the whole
     assembly.

     “_Humph._ I remember a young man of quality, in the habit
     of a clown, was particularly troublesome.

     “_Sir J._ Right: he was too much what he seemed to be:
     he followed us, till the gentleman, who led the lady in
     the Indian mantle, presented that gay creature to the
     rustic, and bid him (like Cymon in the fable) grow polite,
     by falling in love, and let that worthy gentleman alone,
     meaning me. The clown was not reformed, but rudely offered
     to force off my mask; with that the gentleman, throwing
     off his own, appeared to be my son; and, in his concern
     for me, tore off that of the nobleman. At this, they
     seized each other, the company called the guards, and, in
     the surprise, the lady swooned away; upon which my son
     quitted his adversary, and had now no care but of the lady;
     when, raising her in his arms, ‘Art thou gone,’ cried he,
     ‘for ever?――Forbid it, Heaven!’――She revives at his known
     voice, and, with the most familiar, though modest gesture,
     hangs in safety over his shoulders weeping; but wept as
     in the arms of one before whom she could give herself a
     loose, were she not under observation. While she hides
     her face in his neck, he carefully conveys her from the
     company.”――CONSCIOUS LOVERS.

Sir John Bevil makes the same trial of his son, as Simo of his: and
young Bevil makes the same reply with Pamphilus. The only difference in
the conduct of the plot in that part is, that Bevil is not apprized of
his father’s stratagem by his own servant; but by Humphrey, which, as
it shews a sort of half-treachery in him, is an inferior arrangement to
that of the Latin poet.


                                NOTE 82.

           _That Pamphilus had actually married this strange
                                woman._

The expression ξένα, _peregrina_, or _strange woman_, was generally
used amongst eastern nations, to signify a woman of light character: it
is very frequently employed in the Holy Writings in that sense. _Vide_
Judges, chap. xi. ver. 2; Proverbs, chap. v. ver. 3. 10, 20. Thais, in
the Eunuch, speaking of her mother, says,

    “_Samia mihi mater fuit: ea habitabat Rhodi._”

    _My mother was born in Samos, and dwelt in Rhodes._

Athenian citizens were not allowed to marry foreign women, even of
reputation and virtue; this law was not strictly observed: the penalty
for the violation of it was fixed at one thousand drachms. Simo
mentions the epithet _peregrina_, as what Chremes said he had heard
Glycera called; but does not himself drop the slightest hint against
her, but, on the contrary, praises her modest demeanour; as he must
have been well aware, that she did not deserve such an epithet, being
her opposite neighbour, and having seen her abroad: ξέναι, or _strange
women_, when they appeared in public, were obliged to wear striped
dresses, to distinguish them from women of innocent conversation.


                                NOTE 83.

             _Of a wicked mind, one can expect nothing but
                          wicked intentions._

In the Latin, _mala mens, malus animus_. It is not easy to discriminate
with accuracy the different meanings the Romans attached to _mens_ and
_animus_. Some think that _animus_ meant the _heart_, and _mens_ the
faculty of thinking. Grotius has, in this passage, taken those words
to signify _conscience_ and _judgment_: but, I think it probable,
that the word _animus_ was usually employed when they spoke of the
_soul_, and that _mens_ was intended to express what we understand by
the word _mind_, when we speak of _greatness of mind_, or _littleness
of mind_. _Animus_ was, perhaps, about equivalent to that elegant
expression,――_instinctus divinitatis_.


                                NOTE 84.

                             _Exit Sosia._

“Here we take our last leave of Sosia, who is, in the language of the
commentators, a _protatick personage_, that is, as Donatus explains
it, one who appears only once in the beginning (the _protasis_) of
the piece, for the sake of unfolding the argument, and is never
seen again in any part of the play. The narration being ended, says
Donatus, the character of Sosia is no longer necessary. He therefore
departs, and leaves Simo alone to carry on the action. With all due
deference to the ancients, I cannot help thinking this method, if
too constantly practised, as I think it is in our author, rather
inartificial. Narration, however beautiful, is certainly the deadest
part of theatrical compositions: it is, indeed, strictly speaking,
scarce dramatic, and strikes the least in the representation: and the
too frequent introduction of a character, to whom a principal person
in the fable is to relate in confidence the circumstances, previous to
the opening of the play, is surely too direct a manner of conveying
that information to the audience. Every thing of this nature should
come obliquely, fall in a manner by accident, or be drawn as it were
perforce, from the parties concerned, in the course of the action: a
practice, which, if reckoned highly beautiful in epic, may be almost
set down as absolutely necessary in dramatic poetry. It is, however,
more adviseable, even to seem tedious, than to hazard being obscure.
Terence certainly opens his plays with great address, and assigns a
probable reason for one of the parties being so communicative to the
other; and yet it is too plain that this narration is made merely for
the sake of the audience, since there never was a duller hearer than
Master Sosia, and it never appears, in the sequel of the play, that
Simo’s instructions to him are of the least use to frighten Davus, or
work upon Pamphilus. Yet even this _protatick personage_ is one of
the instances of Terence’s art, since it was often used in the Roman
comedy, as may be seen even in Plautus, to make the relation of the
argument the express office of the prologue.”――COLMAN.

Monsieur Baron does not dismiss Sosia here, but brings him on the stage
again; once in the third act, and once in the fourth. Sir R. Steele
introduces Humphrey again in the first act, and also in the fifth. We
are told by Donatus, that in the Andrian and Perinthian of Menander,
which are similar in the plot, the first scene is the same as in
Terence, but that in the Perinthian, the old man consults with his wife
instead of Sosia; and, in the Andrian he opens with a soliloquy.


                                NOTE 85.

                         _But, here he comes._

It has been objected against many dramatic writers, that they are
guilty of great neglect in first bringing their characters on the
stage, without preparing the audience for their appearance, and
acquainting them with their names; and sometimes it happens that an
actor has been on the stage a considerable time, before the audience
know whom he is meant to personate. Terence’s art is admirably shown
in this particular; a new character scarcely ever appears on the stage
after the first scene, before his name, and character, and perhaps what
he may be expected to say or do, is announced to the audience. For
example, in the Andrian, Act I. Scene I., Simo describes the occupation
and character of Davus before he appears; and names him to the audience
as he comes on the stage. In Act I. Scene III., Davus introduces Mysis:
in Act I. Scene IV., Mysis prepares the audience for the appearance of
Pamphilus: in Act III. Scene IV., Simo announces Chremes, and Mysis
is the nomenclator of Crito in the last scene of the fourth Act. This
rule of preparation for the next scene was called, among the ancients,
παρασκευὴ.


                                NOTE 86.

                       _How this rascal prates!_

_Carnifex_ quæ loquitur. _Carnifex_, or _carnufex_, means literally
an executioner: this was one of the most opprobrious epithets used
by the Romans. Of all their public servants, the carnifex was the
lowest in rank: his office extended only to crucifixion, which was
never inflicted in Rome on any but those who were considered as the
very worst of criminals. The person of the carnifex was held in such
abhorrence, that he was never suffered to reside in Rome, and rarely
(though sometimes) permitted to enter the city. _Vide Cicero’s Oration
for Rabirius._ Carnifex means literally _a butcher_; and most of the
writers of later ages have used it in that sense.


                                NOTE 87.

                   _No: I am not Œdipus, but Davus._

This is as much as to say, _I am a plain man, I am no reader of
riddles_: because Œdipus, king of Thebes, was particularly celebrated
for solving an enigma, which had long baffled the penetration of
all the Thebans. Ancient writers relate the story thus: Europa, the
sister of Cadmus, the first king of Thebes, having been carried off
by Jupiter; Juno, in her jealousy, wreaked her vengeance on Europa’s
family, and persecuted Cadmus and his descendants with the most
inveterate hostility. During the reign of Creon, one of the successors
of Cadmus, Juno sent to destroy Thebes, a dreadful monster, called
Sphinx, which was described as having the face and voice of a woman,
the wings of a dragon, the body of a dog, and the claws of a lion. This
extraordinary monster dwelt in a cave, immediately in the neighbourhood
of Thebes, and seizing every one that ventured to approach, proposed
the following well-known riddle, “_What walks in the morning on four
legs, at noon on two, and at night on three?_” Those who were unable
to solve the enigma were instantly torn in pieces; and, as the Thebans
were, in general, so remarkable for their slowness and sluggishness,
that they were called “_Theban pigs_” by the rest of Greece, it
may be readily believed that the monster’s question long remained
unanswered. When the city was in danger of total demolition, Creon the
king offered his daughter Jocasta, and his crown, to him who should
solve the riddle, as the oracle declared that to be the only means of
deliverance. This was at last accomplished by _Œdipus_, who replied,
that it was _man_: _who crawls in his childhood, walks upright in
the vigour of his age, and who uses a crutch when he grows old_: on
hearing this answer, the Sphinx slew herself.

Some commentator on Terence very ingeniously observes, that Davus,
by saying that he is not Œdipus, and cannot understand his riddle,
covertly insinuates that Simo is a second Sphinx.


                                NOTE 88.

                         _The grinding-house._

Terence has rendered by the word _pistrinum_, the Greek σωφρονιστήριον,
or house of correction, whither criminals were sent for the various
terms of imprisonment proportioned to their offences. Slaves, while
in this prison, were employed chiefly in grinding corn, which, from
a deficiency of mechanical knowledge, was, in those times, a very
laborious employment. The Athenians, who were universally celebrated
for their kind and gentle treatment of slaves, were very reluctant to
proceed to severer punishments than whipping or imprisonment: but when
a flagrant delinquency rendered it necessary to make an example, they
either burned the criminal with a hot iron, in the offending member, if
possible; or put on his feet a torturing instrument, called χοῖνιξ. If
the law required the criminal to suffer death, which happened in very
few cases, he was either hung, beaten to death with clubs, or cast into
a deep pit, called βάραθρον, filled at the bottom with sharp spikes.
They sometimes had recourse to other extraordinary modes of punishment:
but the before-mentioned were the most common.


                                NOTE 89.

             _In truth, friend Davus, from what I have just
                                heard._

This scene contains the second part of the narration, which possesses
all the requisites enumerated by Cicero, _perspicuity, probability,
brevity, and sweetness_. It is introduced with Terence’s usual art,
and enough is said respecting Glycera’s birth, to prepare the mind for
the _dénouement_ in the last act. This scene, and that before it, are
omitted in the Conscious Lovers; and a dialogue between Humphrey and
Tom, and another between Tom and Phyllis, the English Davus and Mysis,
are substituted instead of them: but Phyllis is the servant of Lucinda,
the lady Sir J. Bevil wishes his son to marry: and not of Indiana,
the modern Glycera. The two scenes above mentioned contain only one
incident: the conveyance of a letter from young Bevil to Lucinda,
apprizing her of his disinclination to the match.


                                NOTE 90.

         _This affair must be handled dexterously, or either my
                young master or I must be quite undone._

The original of this passage is as follows: _Quæ si non_ astu
_providentur, me, aut herum pessundabunt_. A deviation from the
customary mode of expression sometimes occurs in our author’s writings.
I shall set down the most remarkable words of this nature that are to
be found in this play.

  _Abutor_, with an accusative.
  _Alterco_, for altercor.
  _Astu_, for Astutia.
  _Complacita est_, for placuit.
  _Catus._
  _Claudier_, for claudi.
  _Conflictatur_, cum ingeniis ejusmodis.
  _Duint_, for dent.
  _Diecula._
  _Emergere se_, for emergere.
  _Face_, for fac.
  _Introspicere._
  _Ipsus._
  _Immutarier_, for immutari.
  _Morigera._
  _Maximum facere hominem_, for maximi.
  _Ornati_, for ornatus.
  _Preci_, for precibus.
  _Postillà_, for posteà.
  _Symbola_, for symbolum.
  _Spero_, for timeo.
  _Subsarcinatam._
  _Tetulit._
  _Tumulti_, for tumultus.


                                NOTE 91.

             _If he finds out the least thing I am undone._

Terence has the art of making us feel interested in the favour of
almost all his characters: they insensibly gain ground in our good
opinion: even this Davus, who certainly has a spice of the rogue
about him, creates a warm interest in his favour by his fidelity to
Pamphilus; and his generosity in risking his own safety to serve him:
he braves the threats of Simo, when, by assisting him, and betraying
Pamphilus, he must have secured the old man’s favour, and consequently
great advantages to himself. But very few of the worst characters in
Terence’s plays seem to us to be wholly unamiable.


                                NOTE 92.

         _I think their intentions savour more of madness than
                          of any thing else._

Terence plays upon the words in the original of this passage, which is
as follows,

            “Nam inceptio est _amentium_, haud _amantium_.”

Literally, For they act like _mad people_, not like _lovers_. This
pun cannot be preserved in an English translation, till two words can
be found alike in sound, one meaning “_mad people_,” and the other
“_lovers_.” The only attempt in English is the following: but the
author has rather altered the sense.

    “For they fare as they were _lunaticke_, and not _lovesicke_.”
                                                     BERNARD.

Terence plays upon words in this manner several times in this play,

      _Maledicere_, _malefacta_ ne noscant sua.
    _Solicitando_, et _pollicitando_ eorum animos lactas.
    Quia habet aliud _magis_ ex sese, et _majus_.
    Quo _jure_, quaque _injuria_.
    Ipsu’ sibi esse _injurius_ videatur, neque id _injuriâ_.
    P. Quid vis _patiar_? D. _Pater_ est Pamphile.

The ancients manifested very great partiality for this species of wit,
which the Greeks called παρανομασία and the Romans _agnominatio_.
The writings of Plautus abound with puns above all others, and he is
thought to have applied them with great ingenuity: the following may
serve as a specimen.

          _Boius_ est, _Boiam_ terit.
                      Advenisse _familiares_ dicito.
    Nescio quam tu _familiaris_ es: nisi actutum hinc abis,
    _Familiaris_, accipiere faxo haud _familiariter_
    _Optumo optumè optumam operam_ das.

Though the Greeks and Romans considered puns an ornament to writings
and discourses of all kinds, modern critics have decided that they
ought to be admitted only in writings of a light nature; and that they
decrease the force and beauty of grave and serious compositions, which
ought to wear an air of dignified sublimity, unmixed with any thing of
a trivial nature.

The lines immediately preceding the before-mentioned passages are thus
altered by a French editor. _Vide_ Note 72.

    Ad hæc mala hoc etiam mihi accedit; hæc Andria,
    _Quam clam patre uxorem duxit Pamphilus_, gravida ab eo est.

The original lines are,

    Ad hæc mala hoc etiam mihi accedit; hæc Andria,
    _Sine ista uxor, sine amica est_ gravida a Pamphilo est.



                                NOTE 93.

        _Boy or girl, say they, the child shall be brought up._

In the Latin,

                Quidquid peperisset decreverunt tollere.

Boy or girl, they have resolved that it shall be _taken up_. The
words _taken up_ allude to the custom which prevailed in Greece, of
destroying children. This barbarous cruelty was practised on various
pretences; if an infant was, at its birth, deformed in any of its
members, or if it appeared extremely feeble or sickly, the laws
allowed, and even enjoined, that it should be exposed: sometimes
illegitimacy was considered a sufficient cause for the exposure of a
child. Though the parents were generally allowed to choose whether
their offspring should be destroyed or preserved; in some parts of
Greece all the inhabitants were compelled to send their new-born
infants to officers appointed to examine them: who, if they found
them not robust and healthy, cast them immediately into deep caverns,
called ἀποθέται, which were dedicated to this purpose. It was
customary, in Athens, to place a new-born infant on the ground at
the feet of its father, if he then took it up in his arms, it was
considered that he bound himself to educate and provide for the child:
hence, the expression _tollere_, _to take up_: but, if on the contrary,
he refused to acknowledge it, a person appointed for that purpose
conveyed it to some desert place at a distance from the city: and there
left it to perish. The Thebans are said to have been the only people in
Greece, among whom this barbarous custom did not prevail: but the story
of Œdipus, a prince who was exposed, though afterwards preserved, is a
proof that they did not altogether abstain from this practice.


                                NOTE 94.

              _To prove that she is a citizen of Athens._

Women were allowed to enjoy the privileges of Athenian citizens, and,
at the building of Athens, by Cecrops, they carried a point of no less
importance than the choice of a name for the new city, in opposition
to the votes of the men. Varro tells us that _Neptune_ wished the
new-built city to be called after his name, and that _Athena_, or
_Minerva_, rivalled his pretensions. The question being put by Cecrops
to his people, the men all voted for _Neptune_, but the women voted for
_Minerva_, and gained, by one vote, the privilege of naming the city.
The women were wholly excluded from any share in the government of
Athens, in later ages; though they still retained various privileges as
Athenian citizens.

For a further explanation of the rights of the Athenian citizens; and
for some account of the city of Athens, _vide_ Notes 150, 179, 180,
181, 193, 197.


                                NOTE 95.

              _Once upon a time, a certain old merchant._

The title of _merchant_ we are to suppose to be added by Davus to
embellish the tale. Neither Chremes nor Phania are described as
_merchants_. This addition is well managed by the author, as Davus, who
thought the whole a fabrication, imagined he was more likely to gain
credit by telling the tale that way; as a considerable traffick was
carried on between Athens and the island of Andros, which was a very
fertile spot.

M. Baron has translated this scene with great fidelity and beauty.
Davus developes in it a plan to break off the dreaded match with
Philumena, by introducing Glycera to Chremes: which incident is
substituted instead of the birth of the child. There is a break in the
French lines which renders them inimitably beautiful.

    “De ce vieillard fougueux pour calmer la furie,
    Quoi! Ne pourrions nous pas résoudre Glycérie
    A venir à ses pieds lui demander――――? Helas!
    Glycérie est malade, et je n’y songe pas.”
                                              BARON.


                                NOTE 96.

                _Well, I’ll betake myself to the Forum._

A forum, both in Athens and Rome, was a large open space within the
city, dedicated to various purposes. The forum was a place where the
people met for _public worship_, for _the administration of justice_,
and to debate on the _public affairs_. In the Forum, also, were the
_temples_, _hospitals_, _sanctuaries_, and the _markets of all kinds_:
in short, it was a place of general rendezvous for men of all ranks and
professions, and was, in many respects, very similar to those places of
meeting we call by the name _Exchange_.

In Rome there were six great forums, 1. the Roman, 2. the Julian,
3. the Augustan, 4. the Palladian, 5. the Trojan, 6. the Forum of
Sallust. In Athens, the principal Forum was called ἀρχαία ἀγορὰ; it was
extremely spacious, and decorated with some very fine buildings, and
statues of eminent persons. There were also many others, but the most
considerable was called _the Forum_, by way of distinction.


                                NOTE 97.

                          _Act_ I. _Scene_ IV.

Of all writers ancient or modern, except Seneca, Terence was the
most indefatigable in endeavouring to embellish his writings with
all the ornaments that _alliteration_ could give them. It is not my
intention to enter in this place into a discussion of the advantages,
or disadvantages that verses may derive from alliteration; a subject
on which critics differ as widely as they can on any other point.
The practice of many first-rate writers, however, both ancient and
modern, who have thought that alliteration adorned their compositions,
entitles it to attention. Although eminent critics have argued against
this literary ornament, that its success is but a trivial excellence,
I cannot but remark that it is allowed on all sides that great labour,
care, and patience, are requisite, to succeed in alliteration; which
must certainly contribute to render it of some value, and afford an
absolute proof of the excessive labour and deliberation with which
Terence wrote his plays, every line of which was, as I may say,
weighed, before he wrote it down: for no author, ancient or modern,
(with the before-mentioned exception,) ever employed alliteration so
frequently, nor, in my opinion, with better effect than Terence.

The following lines will afford the reader a specimen of the almost
astonishing extent to which alliteration was used by some of the
ancient authors, Greek and Latin.


                            I. From Terence.

    “_A_udivi, _A_rchillis, jamdudum: Lesbi_a_m _a_dduci jubes
    Sane pol illa _t_emulen_t_a est mulier, et _t_emeraria
    Nec sati digna _c_ui _c_ommittas _p_rimo _p_artis mulierem.
    _T_amen eam _a_dducam. Impor_t_uni_t_a_t_em spec_t_a_t_e _a_niculæ;
    Quia compotrix ejus est. _D_iana _d_a facultatem, obsecro,
    Huic _p_ariundi, atque illi in alius _p_otius _p_eccandi locum.
    Sed, quidnam Pamphilum exanimatum _v_ideo? _v_ereor quid siet.
    Opperiar, ut sciam, numquidnam hæc _t_urba _t_ris_t_i_t_iæ adferat.
    Ut _a_nimum _a_d _a_liquod stadium _a_djungant, _a_ut equos――
    _A_lere, _a_ut canes _a_d venandum, _a_ut _a_d philosophos.
    _I_n _i_gnem _i_mposita est. Fletur. _I_nterea hæc soror.
    _M_ala _m_ens, _m_alus ani_m_us. _Q_uem _q_uidem ego _s_i _s_ensero.
    Ipsum _a_nimum _æ_grotum _a_d deteriorem _p_artem _p_lerumque
       _app_licat,
    Nec, quid _a_gam, cerium est; Pamphilumne _a_djutem, _a_n
       _a_uscultem seni.
    Faci_t_e, fingi_t_e, inveni_t_e, effici_t_e, qui de_t_ur _t_ibi.
    _A_liquot me _a_diere, ex te _a_uditum qui _a_iebant.
    Quid _i_sthuc? si _i_ta _i_sthuc animum _i_nduxti esse utile,
    _M_ala ingeram _m_ulta? _A_tque _a_liquis dicat, nihil pro_m_overis.
    _M_ultum, _M_olestas certe ei fuero, atque ani_m_o _m_orem gessero.
    _Q_uibu’ _q_uidem _q_uam facile poterat _q_uiesci, si hic
        _q_uiesset.
    Age, _s_i hic non in_s_anit _s_atis _s_uà _s_ponte, in_s_tiga.
    _A_uscult_a_. _A_udivi jam omni_a_. _A_nne tu omni_a_?
    _A_udivi inquam _a_ principio. _A_udistin’?
    ――――――――opta_v_it _p_arare hic di_v_itias,
    _P_otius quam in _p_atria honeste _p_au_p_er _v_i_v_ere.
    _S_a_t_i’ jam _s_a_t_i’ _S_imo, _s_pec_t_a_t_a.
    In _a_lio occup_a_to _a_more, _a_bhorrenti _a_b re uxori_â_.
    _P_ro _p_eccato magno _p_aulum su_pp_licii satis est _p_atri.
    Nam hunc _s_cio mea _s_olide _s_olum gavi_s_urum gaudia.
    _S_olus est quem diligunt Di. _S_alvus _s_um _s_i hæc veca _s_unt.”


                           II. From _Seneca_.

                            “_M_eleagre, _m_atris
    Impius _m_actas; _m_orerisque dextra
    _M_atris iratae _m_eruere cuncti
    _M_orte quod.”

    _A_ccingere, _a_nime; bella non levia _a_pp_a_r_a_s.

    _S_ervate _s_ontem _s_axeo inclu_s_um _s_pecu.

    _P_astor triformis littoris Tartessii.
    _P_eremptus, acta est _p_ræda ab occasu ultimo
    Notum Cythæron _p_avit Oceano _p_ecus.
    _P_enetrare jussus solis æstivi _p_lagas.

    _C_onquesta domum: li_c_et ipse velit
    _C_larus niveos inter olores,
    Istrum _c_ygnus Tanaimque _c_olens,
    Extrema loqui; li_c_et Al_c_yones
    _C_ey_c_a suum fluxu leviter.
    Plangente sonent, _c_um tranquillo
    Male _c_onfisae _c_redunt interum.
    _O_bliquatque; _o_cul_o_s, _o_raque.
    Tandemque _v_enias _v_ictor ad _v_ictam domum.


                          III. From _Cicero_.

De _s_cripto dicta _s_ententia est, quam Senatus frequens _s_ecutus est
_s_ummo _s_tudio magnoque con_s_en_s_u.


                           IV. From _Pliny_.

Cum sciam, Domine, ad testimonium laudemque morum meorum, _p_ertinere
tam boni _p_rinci_p_is judicio exornari, rogo, dignitati, ad quam me
_p_rovexit indulgentia tua, vel auguratum, vel septemviratum, quia
vacant, adjicere digneris: ut jure sacerdotii _p_recari deos _p_ro te
_p_ublicè _p_ossim, quos nunc _p_recor _p_ietate _p_rivatâ.


                           V. From _Horace_.

    Acriter el_a_trem, pretium _æ_t_a_s _a_lter_a_ sordet.
    Ambigitur.


                            VI. From _Ovid_.

    Se cu_p_it im_p_rudens. Et qui _p_robat i_p_se _p_robatur.
    Dumque _p_etit, _p_etitur; _p_ariterque.


                         VII. From _Plutarch_.

Κόσμος ἐστιν ὡς ἔλεγε Κράτης, τὸ Κοσμοῦν. Κοσμεῖ δὲ τὸ Κοσμιώτερον.


                         VIII. From _Tyrtæus_.

  Ἡ δ’ Ἀρετὴ τόδ’ Ἄεθλον ἐν Ἀνθρώποισιν Ἄριστον.


                          IX. From _Æschines_.

  Οἱ Ἐξ Ἐκείνου Ἔχοντες Ἐν τῇ οἰκίᾳ.

  ΤαῦΤα μὲν οὖν μοι δοκῶ καὶ Τἄλλα Τὰ ΤούΤοις.

  Ἔοικε, Φειδίας Ἐνεργολαβεῖν Εἰργάσατο καὶ Ἐνεπιορκεῖν.


                          X. From _Anacreon_.

        Τί Μοι, τί Μοι γόων,
        Τί Μοι Μέλει Μεριμνῶν.

                           Μέσον, ναῒ
        ΦορήΜεθα σὺν Μελαίνᾳ,
        ΧειΜῶνι Μοχθεῦντες Μεγάλῳ.


                                NOTE 98.

                       _However, I’ll bring her._

Mr. Cooke makes this speech come from Archillis, and writes it thus:
_Tamen eam adduce_, _I say, fetch her_. This reading is taken from
Guyetus: but Dr. Bentley objects to Archillis within calling to Mysis
without. But as Mysis uses the expression _importunitatem_ SPECTATE
_aniculæ_, _see_ the old woman’s importunity, and not _audite_
importunitatem, _hear_, &c.: we must suppose Archillis to show her
impatience by gestures, as she stood at the door of Glycera’s house.


                                NOTE 99.

              _Mark, how importunate this old baggage is._

Importunitatem spectate _aniculæ_. _Anicula_ is a word of singular
derivation, and signifies literally a sorceress; being compounded of
two Latin words, one signifying _an old woman_, and the other _to
howl_: because sorceresses always _howled_ when they made their
incantations. We must not suppose that Mysis here meant to call
Archillis a sorceress, but merely used the word above mentioned as a
term of reproach. According to Antonius Magnus, the _aniculæ_ were
not a little mischievous, as he proposes to shew by the following
quotation: “Retulit Leonardus Varius, lib. I. de Fascino, multas
hac nostra tempestate existere _aniculas_, quarum impuritate non
paucos effascinari pueros, illosque non modo in gravissimum incidere
discrimen, verum atque acerbam sæpissime subire mortem. Pecudes insuper
partu, et lacte privari, equos macrescere, et emori, segetes absque
fructu colligi, arbores arescere, ac denique omnia pessum iri quandoque
videri.”――ANTONIUS MAGNUS. Perscrutator rerum abditarum naturæ.
Norimberga, 1681, p. 39.


                               NOTE 100.

           _Well, may Diana grant my poor mistress_, &c.

The common reading of this passage is, DI _date facultatem_, _May the_
GODS _grant_, &c., but I should rather imagine that Terence wrote, DIANA
_da facultatem_, _May_ DIANA _grant_, &c., because, on these occasions,
the Greeks never invoked the assistance of all the gods, but usually
requested the help of Diana, as Glycera does afterwards, when she calls
upon her by the name of Juno Lucina, (_vide_ Note 143). Diana was
supposed to preside over women in childbirth, and was called Εἰλείθυια.


                               NOTE 101.

                  _A._ I. _S._ V. _Pamphilus, Mysis._

This scene contains the third and last part of the narration, which is
entirely pathetic, and its length is very artificially and successfully
relieved by the figure called by the Greeks προσωποποια, which is
introduced with so many moving and pathetic graces, as afford ample
proof that Terence was as great a master of the passions, as even
Trabea, Attilius, and Cæcilius themselves, who were so highly extolled
by the ancients for their excellence in compositions of that nature.
Terence has admirably relieved the necessary length of his narration in
this play, by his judicious method of dividing it: the first part is
serious, (_vide_ Note 65,) and raises our curiosity: the second part is
comic, (_vide_ Note 89,) and excites our laughter; the third part is
pathetic, and moves our pity. The lines in which Pamphilus describes
the death of Chrysis are so extremely moving, that some of the most
eminent critics have considered them at least equal, if not superior,
to all attempts in the pathetic both ancient and modern. The finest
passage in M. Baron’s Andrienne is, (in my opinion,) his imitation of
the before-mentioned speech of Pamphilus: and the inimitable beauty
which so much strikes us in the _French copy_ ought to impress us with
a just idea of the splendid merit of the _Latin original_.

The whole speech is too long to be inserted here, the following are
extracts:

    “Si je m’en souviendrai! Qui? moi? Toute ma vie.
    Ce que me dit Chrysis parlant de Glicérie,
    Elle me dit, (Misis j’en verse encore des pleurs.)
    Elle est jeune, elle est belle, elle est sage, et je meurs.
    Je vous conjure donc par sa main que je tiens;
    Par la foi, par l’honneur, par mes pleurs, par les siens;
    Par ce dernier moment qui va finir, ma vie,
    De ne vous séparer jamais de Glicérie.
    Elle prit nos deux mains, et les mit dans la sienne:
    Que dans cette union l’amour vous entretienne;
    C’est tout.――Elle expira dans le même moment.
    Je l’ai promis, Misis, je tiendrai mon serment.”
                          _Andrienne_, A. I. S. VII.


                               NOTE 102.

                _And why has Chremes changed his mind._

               “Id mutavit, quoniam me IMMUTATUM videt.”

The verb _immutare_ in other Latin authors, and even in other parts
of Terence himself, signifies _to change_; as in the Phormio, Antipho
says, _Non possum_ immutarier. I cannot _be changed_. But here, the
sense absolutely requires that _immutatum_ should be rendered _not
changed_. Madame Dacier endeavours to reconcile this, according to
a conjecture of her father’s, by shewing that _immutatum_ stands
for _immutabilis_, as _immotus_ for _immobilis_, _invictus_ for
_invincibilis_, &c. But these examples do not remove the difficulty;
since those participles always bear a negative sense, which _immutatus_
does not: and thence arises all the difficulty. Terence certainly uses
the verb _immutare_ both negatively and positively, as is plain from
this passage, and the above passage in the Phormio: and I dare say,
with strict propriety. In our own language, we have instances of the
same word bearing two senses, directly opposite to each other. The
word _let_, for instance, is used in the contradictory meanings of
_permission_ and _prohibition_. The modern acceptation of the word is
indeed almost entirely confined to the first sense; though we say, even
at this day, _without let or molestation_. Shakspeare, in Hamlet, says,

               ‘I’ll make a ghost of him that _lets_ me;’

“That is, _stops_, _prevents_, _hinders_ me, which is directly opposite
to the modern use of the word.”――COLMAN.

“_Immutare_ always signifies to _change_, _immutatus_ therefore cannot
mean _unchanged_: we see, moreover, that Pamphilus has been all along
in love with Glycera, and that he never for a moment entertained the
slightest idea of forsaking her. This passage was very difficult;
but my father has made it easy, by shewing that _immutatus_ is put
for _immutabilis_, and that composed adjectives, which are derived
from passive participles, do not always express what is _done_,
but sometimes what _may be done_; that is to say, they become
potentials. For example, _immotus_ for _immobilis_, _infectus_ for
_what cannot be done_, _invictus_ for _invincibilis_, _invisus_ for
_invisibilis_, _indomitus_ for _indomabilis_, thus _immutatus_ is for
_immutabilis_.”――MADAME DACIER.

The reader will judge whether the arguments used by these two learned
and ingenious critics, will justify them in translating _immutatus_ in
a sense directly _opposite_ to its usual meaning, in the writings of
Cicero, and the most learned of the Roman authors. With all the respect
which is unquestionably due to the pre-eminent talents of Madame
Dacier and Mr. Colman, I am inclined to believe that the sense of this
passage is made more clear by the reading I have adopted. If we allow
their arguments to be of force, we must translate the sentence thus,
_is Chremes changed because he sees that I am unchanged_. But if we
allow _immutatus_ to retain its usual signification, the sentence must
be read thus, _is he changed because he sees that I am changed_: i. e.,
_because I, who had so high a character for prudence, am changed, and
by my connexion with Glycera have proved that I am imprudent_. It is,
in short, as if he said, Chremes has changed his mind once on account
of my connexion with Glycera, and now, I suppose, he changes it again
for the same wise reason. This would not, (in my opinion,) be an
unnatural expression for an impatient man: and the sequel of the same
speech seems to favour this interpretation.


                               NOTE 103.

  _I shrewdly suspect that this daughter of Chremes is either
     hideously ugly, or that something is amiss in her._

In the Latin _aliquid monstri alunt_, _they breed up some monster_.

This expression took its rise from the custom of exposing and
destroying monstrous and deformed children, (_see Note 93_) which
was required by law: therefore, those parents who resolved,
notwithstanding, to educate a child of that kind, were compelled to
do so with the utmost secrecy: hence, the phrase “_alere monstrum_,”
_to breed up a monster_, was used in Rome, to express any thing done
in great secrecy. Terence has, by no means, violated probability, in
representing Pamphilus as unacquainted with the person of Philumena:
_though she had been contracted to him_; as Grecian women very seldom
appeared abroad, and never, unveiled: and it not unfrequently occurred,
that the bridegroom was introduced to the bride for the _first time_ on
the day of marriage.


                               NOTE 104.

                          _She is in labour._

In the Latin, _Laborat e dolore_. Cooke thinks that these words mean
merely _she is weighed down by grief_: and argues, that if Pamphilus
had understood her words in any other sense, he would have urged her
to more haste; as he does, when she tells him that she is going for
a midwife. But _laboro_ sometimes means to strive or struggle, as in
_Ovid_,

    “Et simul arma tuli, quæ nunc quoque ferre _laboro_.”
                                _Metam._, B. XIII. L. 285.

                              ’Twas then I bare
    Achilles’ arms, which now _I strive_ to wear.

Also, in _Horace_,

        ――――――――――――――“_laborat_
    Lympha fugax trepidare.”
                             _Od._, B. II. O. 3. L. 11.

                          The rushing water _strives_
    To force a swifter passage.

And that, doubtless, is its meaning, when joined to _dolore_. What
Mysis says, moreover, to Lesbia the midwife, in the first scene of the
third act, is sufficient to justify this interpretation.


                               NOTE 105.

  _Can I suffer, that she, who has been brought up in the paths of
     modesty and virtue, should be exposed to want, and, perhaps,
     even to dishonour?_

By the expression _sinam coactum egestate ingenium immutarier?_ _shall
I suffer her innocence to be endangered by want?_ I am inclined to
believe that Terence meant, the want of friends and protection, and not
poverty, because we are told afterwards, (_Act_ IV.) that Glycera was
possessed of the property of Chrysis, which we are to imagine, from
what Crito says concerning it, to have been something considerable. I
believe _egestate_ is often put for want of any kind. It may appear
somewhat enigmatical, that Terence should speak of the liberal and
virtuous education of Glycera, by such a person as Chrysis was said to
have been; but it is a circumstance in no wise repugnant to the manners
of the Greeks; as we see in the Eunuch in the instance of _Thais_ and
_Pamphila_.


                               NOTE 106.

  _I call upon you, then, by the pledge of this hand you now extend
     to me, and by the natural goodness of your disposition._

Quod ego te per hanc dextram oro, et _ingenium_ tuum. Some read
_genium_, _by your genius_, or _by your good angel_, and quote the
following passage from Horace in support of this reading:

    “Quod te per _genium_ dextramque, deosque penates
    Obsecro et obtestor.”
                            _Epistles_, B. I. E. 7. L. 94.

The difference, however, between the _genius_ and the _ingenium_, is
not very material; as the _ingenium_ or disposition, was supposed by
the ancients to be prompted by the _genius_, or tutelar spirit, who
presided over and directed all the actions of mankind. Each person was
thought to have a good and also an evil spirit, who never quitted its
charge till death: the spirits attendant on the men were called by the
Romans _genii_, and those belonging to the women were named _junones_.
The Greeks considered these aërial beings as of a nature between that
of gods and men: and that they communicated to the latter the will of
the former by oracles, dreams, _&c._ Apuleius takes the genius to be
the same as the lar and larva: but it is most probable, that the larvæ,
lemures, and dæmones, were all used as names for what were termed the
_evil genii_.


                               NOTE 107.

              _Be to her a friend, a guardian, a parent._

_Amicum_, tutorem _patrem_. The word _tutorem_ in this line, alludes
to the Roman custom of appointing _guardians_, which was usually
performed with great ceremony: frequently on a dead-bed. The person who
intended to constitute a _tutor_ or guardian, made use of a set form of
words, which were spoken before witnesses, when the ward was delivered
to the guardian, with these words, “_Hunc (vel hanc) tibi commendo,
Tutor esto._” _I commend him (or her) to your protection, be to him a
guardian._ Thus Ovid,

                       “Hæc progeniesque mea est
    _Hanc tibi commendo_.”
                            Trist., B. III. El. 14. L. 14.

    To your protection I commit my offspring.

Some words were also addressed to the ward, as “_Hunc tibi tutorem
do_,” _I appoint this person your guardian_.

Donatus observes, that the line

            ――――“Te isti virum do, amicum, tutorem, patrem,”

ought to be read with a long pause between each word, as Terence
intended to describe the broken, interrupted voice of a person at the
point of death.


                               NOTE 108.

                          _Charinus, Byrrhia._

“These two characters were not in the works of Menander, but were added
to the fable by Terence, lest Philumena’s being left without a husband,
on the marriage of Pamphilus to Glycerium should appear too _tragical_
a circumstance.――DONATUS.

Madame Dacier, after transcribing this remark adds, that it appears to
her to be an observation of great importance to the theatre, and well
worthy our attention.

Important as this dramatic arcanum may be, it were to be wished, that
Terence had never found it out, or, at least, that he had not availed
himself of it in the construction of the Andrian. It is plain that
the duplicity of the intrigue did not proceed from the imitation of
Menander, since these characters, on which the double plot is founded,
were not drawn from the Greek poet. Charinus and Byrrhia are indeed
but poor counterparts, or faint shadows of Pamphilus and Davus; and,
instead of adding life and vigour to the fable, rather damp its spirit,
and stop the activity of its progress. As to the tragical circumstance
of Philumena’s having no husband, it seems something like the distress
of Prince Prettyman[A], who thinks it a matter of indifference, whether
he shall appear to be the son of a king or a fisherman, and is only
uneasy lest he should be the son of nobody at all. I am much more
inclined to the opinion of an ingenious French critic, whom I have
already cited more than once, than to that of Donatus or Madame Dacier.
His comment in this underplot is as follows:――

     “_It is almost impossible to conduct two intrigues at a time
     without weakening the interest of both. With what address
     has Terence interwoven the amours of Pamphilus and Charinus
     in the Andrian! But has he done it without inconvenience? At
     the beginning of the second act, do we not seem to be
     entering upon a new piece? and does the fifth conclude in a
     very interesting manner?_”――DIDEROT.

It is but justice to Sir Richard Steele to confess, that he has
conducted the under-plot in the Conscious Lovers in a much more artful
and interesting manner than Terence in the play before us. The part
which Myrtle sustains (though not wholly unexceptionable, especially
the last act,) is more essential to the fable than Charinus in the
Andrian. His character also is more separated and distinguished from
Bevil, than Charinus from Pamphilus, and serves to produce one of the
best scenes[B] in the play.” COLMAN.

  [A] The following extract will explain Mr. Colman’s allusion,

     _Thimble._   Brave Prettyman, it is at length revealed,
                  That he is not thy Sire who thee conceal’d.

     _Prettyman._ What oracle this darkness can evince!
                  Sometimes a fisher’s son, sometimes a prince.
                  It is a secret, great as is the world;
                  In which I, like the soul, am toss’d and hurl’d.
                  The blackest ink of fate sure was my lot,
                  And when she writ my name, she made a blot.
                                                         [_Exit._

     _Bayes._     There’s a blustering verse for you now.

     _Smith._     Yes, Sir; but why is he so mightily troubled to
                      find he is not a fisherman’s son?

     _Bayes._     Phoo! that is not because he has a mind to be his
                      son, but for fear he should be thought to be
                      nobody’s son at all.

     _Smith._     Nay, that would trouble a man, indeed.
                                       _Rehearsal_, A. III. S. IV.

  [B] A. IV. S. I.


                               NOTE 109.

                 _Byrrhia.――I beseech you, O Charinus._

_Quæso ædepol_, Charine. _Ædepol_ means literally by the temple of
Pollux, being an abbreviation of the words per templum Pollucis, as
_pol_ was used for per Pollucem: and _hercle_ for per Herculem. These
ancient expletives are of a similar nature to those in modern use,
which are almost all of religious derivation.

To affirm a thing by the temple of Pollux, was a very common expression
among the ancients; and is frequently used in the plays of Terence,
where it seems to have been particularly the oath of slaves. It was
natural enough that Athenian slaves should asseverate by this temple,
as it was the place where they were bought and sold by the inhabitants
of Attica. This splendid building, which was so unworthily employed,
was situated in the κάτω πόλις, or the lower city, towards the sea;
and was called Ἀνάκειον, because Castor and Pollux were called ἄνακες.
In the Greek mythology, Castor and Pollux were the twin sons of Leda:
their father, Jupiter, rewarded their virtues, by giving them a place
in the heavens, where they are called Gemini. They were supposed to
preside over martial exercises, (for their skill in which they were
particularly eminent,) and they had the power of allaying storms.
These fables have caused the names of Castor and Pollux to be given to
that well-known meteor which sometimes appears at sea in the shape of
several fire-balls, which seem to adhere to the vessel, and which are
judged to indicate an approaching calm. This phænomenon is called by
the French, Spaniards, and Italians, San Elmo, or Hermo.


                               NOTE 110.

  _Byrrhia.――I beseech you, O Charinus, to wish for something
     possible, since what you now wish for is impossible!_

Terence always admirably preserves the characters of domestics, in
the style of the advice they give their masters, which is very often
conveyed in some trite adage, or formal apothegm. This is another
instance of our author’s art. Want of attention to the dialogue of
the inferior characters, is a frequent fault among dramatic writers;
and often proves hostile to the success of a piece, particularly of a
comedy, where it is absolutely essential.


                               NOTE 111.

                    _To nourish a hopeless passion._

Madame Dacier observes, with her usual judgment, that Terence
simplifies a philosophical maxim in so elegant and familiar a manner,
that it assumes a grace, even from the lips of a domestic. Diderot
makes a similar remark in the Preface to his Père de Famille; which
he probably remembered from the learned lady before mentioned.
Montaigne has elegantly expressed the sense of Byrrhia’s speech. C’est
_foiblesse_ de ceder aux maux, mais c’est _folie_ de les nourrir.


                               NOTE 112.

  _Charinus.――What think you, Byrrhia, shall I speak to him?_

  _Byrrhia.――Why not? that even if you can obtain nothing, you may
     make him think, at least, that Philumena will find a pressing
     gallant in you, if he marries her._

The original of these lines is the most exceptionable passage in this
play.

                                    “C. Byrrhia,
    Quid tibi videtur? Adeon’ ad eum? B. Quidni? si nihil impetres,
    _Ut te arbitretur sibi paratum mœchum, si illam duxerit_.”

The ingenious French editor, mentioned in Note 72, has given the
following elegant and delicate turn to this objectionable passage.

                                    “C. Byrrhia,
    Quid tibi videtur? Adeon’ ad eum? B. Quidni? ut, si nihil impetres,
    _Te sibi cavendum credat, si illam duxerit_.”


                               NOTE 113.

                 _You see me to-day for the last time._

Though Charinus means, that the misery of losing Philumena would cost
him his life, as he expressly tells Davus in the next scene, yet he
only insinuates this by saying, You will never see me again: and avoids
the mention of _death_: which was considered among the Greeks as a word
that should scarcely ever be named: and it was reckoned the height of
ill breeding to discourse in company respecting human mortality; which
was a subject to be spoken of only by distant hints: (_vide Note 190_.)
This whole scene is admirably written; and as well as the last scene in
the first act, is a specimen of Terence’s powers in the pathetic. Some
very ingenious remarks on this scene are to be found in Donatus, and in
the Miscellanies of Nonnius.


                               NOTE 114.

  _Now, if either you, or Byrrhia here, can do any thing; in Heavens
     name, do it; contrive, invent, and manage, if you can, that she
     may be given to you._

It does not appear that Charinus and Byrrhia set any stratagem on
foot, in compliance with the wishes of Pamphilus, to break off the
treaty between Simo and Chremes; indeed, they are rather inactive
throughout the play, and the under-plot proceeds separately from the
principal plot: this, I attribute to Terence’s close imitation of
Menander, in what respects Pamphilus’s intrigue, as the characters
of Charinus and Byrrhia were added by Terence: Menander’s play being
written with a single plot; which was doubled by our author, in
compliance with the taste of his age. It is supposed that Terence’s
reputation for art was gained chiefly by his success in combining two
intrigues in one play: a mode of dramatic writing which the Romans in
those times considered a great novelty. The Stepmother is the only play
written by Terence, in which the plot is single, and though critics in
general argue with Volcatius,

                “Sumetur _Hecyra sexta_ ex his fabula,”

that it is not equal to the rest of his productions, many persons,
very eminent for their judgment, have attributed the superiority
of the other five plays, to the advantages they possess over the
Stepmother, both in portraiture of character, and in the conduct of
the catastrophe, and of the fable in general, rather than to any
additional attraction which they can derive from a double plot. The
Carin and Byrrhie of M. Baron, are, in every respect, the counterparts
of the Charinus and Byrrhia of Terence; but Sir R. Steele has very much
enlivened the character of Charinus; his Myrtle is one of the most
entertaining personages in the piece. _Vide_ Notes 108, 159, 162, 163.


                               NOTE 115.

                       _I know your affair also._

From _Byrrhia_, whom he had just parted from, as he afterwards relates:
this, though a trivial circumstance, shews Terence’s great art. Donatus
reads this sentence,

                      “Et tu quid _timeas_ scio.”

but the measure of the verse does not seem to admit of timeas.


                               NOTE 116.

                 _Not a soul do I see before the door._

The marriage ceremonies of the Greeks were, in many respects, very
similar to those of the Romans. In Athens, as at Rome, sacrifices
were deemed necessary preliminaries to the celebration of a marriage:
and the bride, accompanied by bride-women, whom the Latins called
_pronubæ_, the Greeks νυμφεύτριαι, was conducted to her husband’s house
with great ceremony; if the parties were of rank, the bride’s train was
increased by the attendance of many of her friends and relatives, who
previously assembled at her father’s house. It is to the absence of the
bride’s train, and of the musicians who usually assembled before her
door, and attended her to her new habitation, that Davus alludes, when
he says, that he could perceive no company in the house, or before the
door. For further information respecting the marriages of the Greeks
and Romans, _vide_ Notes 70, 75, 76, 117, 118, 148, 149, 181.


                               NOTE 117.

                _Every thing is quite still and quiet._

Cecrops, the first king of Athens, seems to have been the reputed
founder of marriage-ceremonies among the Greeks: the Athenians
accounted it so dishonourable to grow old in a single state, that their
laws peremptorily required, that all the αὐτοκράτορες, στρατηγοὶ,
πολέμαρχοι, and ταξίαρχοι, who were the principal military officers,
also the ἄρχοντες and ἱεροφύλακες, or chief priests, as well as the
archons and other chief magistrates, should be chosen from the married
men only.

Numerous ceremonies were always performed at Grecian marriages, many
of which were performed at the house of the bride, and in procession
from it: it is exceedingly well managed by Terence, that Davus should
discover Simo’s stratagem, by finding Chremes’ house “quite still
and quiet,” because the house of a bride was generally full of noisy
company. The following extracts from a learned writer on antiquities
will afford some valuable information respecting the Greek marriages.

“The Athenian virgins were presented to Diana before it was lawful
for them to marry. This ceremony, which was performed at Brauron, an
Athenian borough, was called ἀρκτεία. There was also another custom for
virgins, when they became marriageable, to present certain baskets,
full of little curiosities, to Diana, to obtain permission to leave
her train, and to change their state of life. Indeed we find Diana
concerned in the preparatory solemnities before all marriages; for a
married state being her aversion, it was thought necessary for all who
entered upon it, to ask her pardon for dissenting from her. The ancient
Athenians paid the same honour to Heaven and Earth, which were believed
to have a particular concern in marriages, of which they were thought
a proper emblem. (_Procl. in Timæ. Platon. Comment. 5._) The fates and
graces being supposed to join, and afterwards to preserve the tie of
love, were partakers of the same respect. (_Pol. lib._ III. _cap._ 3.)
Before the marriage could be solemnized, the other gods were consulted,
and their assistance also implored by prayers and sacrifices. When the
victim was opened, the gall was taken out and thrown behind the altar,
as being the seat of anger and revenge, and therefore the aversion of
all the deities who superintended the affairs of love. The married
persons, with their attendants, were richly adorned, according to
their rank. The house, in which the nuptials were celebrated, was also
decorated with garlands. (_Hierocl. in Frag._ περὶ γάμον; _Stob. Serm.
186_, _Senec. Thebaid. v. 507_;) a pestle was tied upon the door,
(_Poll. lib._ III. _cap._ 3. _seg._ 37;) and a maid carried a sieve, (_Id.
ibid._) the bride herself bearing φρύγετον, φρύγετρον, or φρύγητρον,
which was an earthen vessel, in which barley was parched, (_Poll. lib._
I. _cap._ 12. _seg._ 246; _Hesych._) and which was intended to signify her
obligation to attend to the business of a family. The bride was usually
conducted in a chariot from her father’s to her husband’s house in
the evening. She was placed in the middle, her husband sitting on one
side, and, on the other, one of his most intimate friends, who was
called πάροχος. They were sometimes accompanied by bands of musicians
and dancers, (_Hom. Il._ σʹ. _v. 491._) The song with which they were
entertained on the road was called ἁρμάτειον μέλος, from ἅρμα, the
coach in which they rode, and the axle-tree of which they burned as
soon as they arrived at the end of their journey; thereby signifying
that the bride was never to return to her father’s house. The day
of the bride’s leaving her father was celebrated in the manner of a
festival, which was distinct from the nuptial solemnity, which was kept
at the bride-groom’s house, and began at evening, the usual time of the
bride’s arrival.”――ROBINSON’S _Archæologia Græca_.


                               NOTE 118.

                      _But can see no bridemaid._

Matronam nullam: Some commentators think that matrona and pronuba have
a similar meaning; but though it is clear that both those words were
used to describe females who attended the bride at a Roman marriage, I
am inclined to believe that they have each a distinct signification.
The Latin poets used matrona as a name for all married women without
distinction: thus, Horace evidently speaks of wives in general, when he
says,

    “Matronæ præter faciem nil cernere possis,
    Cetera, ――――demissa veste tegentis.”

    The matron muffled in her modest stole,
    Will scarce allow her features to be seen.

because married women only were allowed to wear the _stola_, a
large robe which covered the person from head to foot. Matrons were
distinguished as follows, matronas appellabant, quibus _stolas habendi_
jus erat: those only were called matrons, whose rank entitled them to
wear the stola, (_Alex. ab. Alex. lib._ 5. _cap._ 18.) as women of
inferior rank wore the instita. The pronubæ were always chosen from
those women who had been married only once; and it appears that a
bride had several pronubæ to attend her, but only one matrona. Terence
says nullam matronam, whereas the pronubæ were spoken of as being four
or five in number. I think it not unlikely that the first in rank of
the pronubæ was chosen to preside over the rest of the bridemaids,
and to attend immediately on the person of the bride, whence she was
called matrona pronubarum, the chief of the bridemaids. Servius thinks
that matrona was used to designate a woman who had one child: and
thus distinguished from the mater-familias who had several. But Aulus
Gellius is of opinion that all married women were called matronæ,
whether they had any children or not. Thus Ovid, speaking of Hersilia,
the wife of Romulus, who had no offspring, calls her matrona.

    “O et de Latiâ, O et de gente Sabinâ
    Præcipuum matrona decus; dignissima tanti”――

    And thou, O matron, ornament of Latium,
    The chiefest glory of the Sabine race,
    Most worthy consort of so great a hero――――

Nonnius supports Gellius in this opinion.


                               NOTE 119.

                           _All was silent._

Nil tumulti. Terence here compares guests, called together in a hurry,
to soldiers raised on any sudden emergency of great importance. As no
marriage had been thought of till that day, _if_ Chremes _had_ invited
any guests, they could have had scarcely an hour’s notice; Davus,
therefore, aptly calls such a hasty assemblage tumultus, which word
was used to signify a very quick muster of soldiers on any pressing
occasion, when all that took arms were called tumultuarii. (_Vide_
Liv. I. 37, 35.) Numerous allusions of this kind, which abound in the
writings of Terence, cannot be happily preserved in a translation.


                               NOTE 120.

  _Besides all this, as I was returning, I met Chremes’ servant, who
     was carrying home some herbs, and as many little fishes for the
     old man’s supper, as might have cost an obolus._

What a supper for a man of fortune! as we must suppose Chremes to have
been, since he could give Glycera and Philumena each a dowry of ten
talents. The Athenians were remarkable, _even to a proverb_, for their
extreme frugality. To tell a person that he lived ἀττικηρῶς or like an
Athenian, was to tell him in other words that he lived penuriously. The
food of the common people was very coarse; being such as they could
procure at a slight expense. Mάζα, a very common food among them, was
a mixture of meal, salt, water, and oil: and another, called μυττωτὸν,
was a composition of garlick, eggs, and milk. Many of those who drank
water, drank it warm; as the water of the hot fountains, (of which
there are many in Greece,) was reckoned highly restorative. This simple
diet, however, soon gave place to greater delicacies, and, in Greece,
as in all other countries, refinement and luxury kept pace with each
other. For the value of an obolus, see the table of money in Note
208. An obolus worth of food was, probably, as much as would furnish
a coarse meal for one person. Plutarch tells us, that the Athenian
women were forbidden, by law, to travel with more food than could be
purchased with an obolus: this harsh law must have been formed with a
view to prevent them from making any long stay abroad. _Vide_ Notes 71,
103.


                               NOTE 121.

  _If you do not use all your endeavours to gain the support of the
     old man’s friends, you will be no nearer your wishes than ever._

Nisi vides, nisi senis amicos oras, _ambis_. The meaning of ambis in
this line is very equivocal; ambire means to solicit, and also to run
round. Some commentators give ambis the same sense with oras: but that
makes Davus’s speech incomplete. I have seen an attempt to support this
reading by making Pamphilus speak the word ambis, with which he breaks
in upon Davus. The learned reader will judge what degree of attention
ought to be paid to this reading; I have adopted that which seemed to
me to be most agreeable to the sense. If frustra had been added, the
line would have been more intelligible. Ambit has much the same meaning
in the following passage,

          “Locum, quo me Dea texerat inscius _ambit_.”――OVID.


                               NOTE 122.

           _Glycera, moreover, is destitute and friendless._

Terence here alludes to the Athenian law, which compelled all
sojourners in Athens to choose a patron and protector: we must suppose
that Glycera had neglected that ceremony after Chrysis’ death.
Davus insinuates that it would afford Simo a sufficient pretext to
drive her from the city. If a suit at law, called ἀποστασίου δίκη, was
instituted against a sojourner in the before-mentioned circumstances:
all the offender’s property was confiscated to public use.


                               NOTE 123.

                     _To banish her from the city._

Banishment, among the Athenians, was of three kinds, 1. φυγὴ, temporary
exile, the length of which was fixed by the judges. 2. Ὀστρακισμὸς,
ten years’ banishment, during which the exile was allowed to receive
the proceeds of his estate. 3. ἀειφυγία, perpetual banishment. The
last kind was chiefly inflicted on murderers, the second on men, who
grew so extremely popular and powerful as to endanger the security of
a republican government. Mr. Cooke thinks, with Dr. Bentley, that “the
original of this passage should be read, eam _eiciat_ oppido,” instead
of _eam ejiciat_ oppido: he supports this reading by the following
quotation,

       Tityre, pascentes a flumine _reice_ capellas.――VIRGIL.

where the measure determines the spelling.

“In the three manuscript copies of Terence, in the possession of Dr.
Mead, two of them have eiciat; and what is worthy the reader’s notice,
that which has ejiciat is written in the manner of prose.”


                               NOTE 124.

  _Therefore, do not let the fear of his changing his mind prevent
     you from following my advice._

    ――――Nec tu ea causa minueris
    Hæc quæ facis, ne is suam mutet sententiam.

It is impossible to ascertain, beyond a doubt, what Terence meant to
express by these lines, and the most ingenious critics have differed
entirely respecting their true signification. Some think this sentence
should be interpreted thus: Be careful not to discontinue your visits
to Glycera, lest Chremes should think you have broken off your
connexion with her, and change his mind in consequence, and resolve
to give you his daughter. In short, _don’t quit your intrigue, and
reform, lest Chremes should hear of it, and give you Philumena_:
among those who read the words in this sense, the most eminent are
_Bernard, Echard, M. Baron, the authors of the old Paris edition of
1671, and of the old English edition with notes_. At the head of those
who have adopted a contrary interpretation are _Cooke_, _Colman_, and
_Madame Dacier_, who translate the lines thus, _Let not the fear of
Chremes’ changing his mind, and resolving to give you his daughter,
make you hesitate in doing this_, i. e., in telling your father that
you’ll marry. I have adopted the latter translation, which seems more
pertinent to the subject on which Davus and Pamphilus were conversing.
The word hæc, moreover, usually refers to something immediately
present, as was the topic of Pamphilus consenting to the marriage to
deceive Simo. Terence, I think, if he had intended to allude to the
visits, letters, _&c._, to Glycera, would have used the word isthæc. I
conclude this note with the opinion of Madame Dacier respecting this
passage, which that learned lady translates as follows:――

“_Car que Chremès ne veuille pas vous donner sa fille, cela est hors
de doute. Gardez vous donc bien que la crainte qu’il ne change de
sentiment, et ne veuille que vous soyez bon gendre, ne vous fasse
changer quelque chose au conseil que je vous ai donné._

This passage is extremely difficult. I have been obliged to take a
little latitude to make it clear. I shall explain the words literally:
Nec tu ea causa minueris hæc quæ facis, ne is mutet suam sententiam.
This is the construction, nec tu minueris hæc quæ facis, ea causa ne
is mutet suam sententiam. Change not your intention to do what you are
going to do; that is to say, what I advise you to do: ea causa; on this
pretext; ne is mutet suam sententiam; that you fear lest Chremes should
change his mind: minuere, to diminish, is used for to change, as in the
Stepmother,

    Sed non minuam meum consilium.

    But I will not alter my resolution.”
                                     MADAME DACIER.


                               NOTE 125.

  _As to the hopes you indulge, that no man will give his daughter
     to you, on account of this imprudent connexion that you have
     formed; I will soon convince you of their fallacy._

We must not suppose, that the sentiments of Pamphilus were really
such as Davus here insinuates: this would be representing him as an
unblushing profligate; who, because he was disinclined to marriage,
wished his character to be so very black, that no reputable family in
Athens would admit him as a son-in-law: for this is the sense of what
Davus says, though I have rather softened his expression. Whoever
attentively peruses what Simo says of his son, (in Act I. Scene I.)
must perceive how inconsistent such a wish must be with the character
of Pamphilus. Madame Dacier observes very aptly on a similar expression
of Sosia, “_les valets prennent toujours tout du mauvais côte_,
slaves always look on the dark side of every thing. In respect to the
_before-mentioned passage_, I am rather inclined to the opinion of a
late ingenious commentator, who speaks of it as follows:

“Mr. Davus talks here as if he did not know what to say. In my humble
opinion, these four lines are no ornaments to the scene:

    Nam quod tu speras, Propulsabo facile: uxorem his moribus
    Dabit nemo: inopem inveniet potius, quam te corrumpi sinat:
    Sed si te æquo animo ferre accipiet, negligentem feceris;
    Aliam otiosus quæret: interea aliquid acciderit boni.

Here are _poor_ sentiments in _pure_ Latin, which is more than once the
case in our poet. The speech closes better with tibi jure irasci non
queat.”――COOKE.


                               NOTE 126.

  _Pamphilus. But we must take care that he knows nothing of the
     child, for I have promised to bring it up._

  _Davus. Is it possible!_

An allusion is here made to the exposure of children, for an account of
which, see Note 93.

Pamphilus, in this sentence, says pollicitus sum: there is very great
force in this expression, which cannot be gracefully expressed in
English. Pollicitatio, writes a learned commentator, magnarum rerum
est promissio, means the promise of something of great consequence.
It signifies also something promised over and over again, after great
persuasion and entreaty.


                               NOTE 127.

      _So as I saw the old man coming this way, I followed him._

               Id propterea nunc _hunc_ venientem sequor.

Dr. Bentley thinks that this line ought to be omitted as spurious,
because the word _hunc_ refers to Pamphilus, who had not quitted the
stage at all, from the time of Charinus’ departure until that moment:
and, therefore, what Byrrhia says about following him thither must be
nonsense. This passage is made very clear by Madame Dacier, who shews
that Id propterea is the commencement of another sentence, and makes
_hunc_ refer to Simo, instead of Pamphilus. The lines ought to be read
thus,

  _Byrrhia._ Herus me, relictis rebus, jussit Pamphilum
             Hodiè observare, ut quid ageret de nuptiis
             Scirem. Id propterea nunc hunc venientem sequor.


                               NOTE 128.

  _Byrrhia. (aside.) Now, for my master’s sake, I dread to hear his
     answer._

Some commentators make this speech come from Davus; but it certainly is
more natural from Byrrhia: because, by the word _dread_, he expresses
a suspense about what the answer might be, which Davus could not feel,
because he and his master had previously agreed upon it.


                               NOTE 129.

           _Byrrhia. (aside.) Ha! I am struck dumb; what did
                                he say?_

                       Hem! obmutui! quid dixit!

I think this reading seems more consistent than that which is usually
printed, where obmutuit comes from Davus: as _Byrrhia_ might well
be supposed to _express surprise_ at Pamphilus’s answer, which was
_directly different from what Pamphilus and Charinus had previously
agreed on_.

The dialogue of this scene is carried on too unconnectedly, as Mr.
Colman observes.

“Donatus remarks on this scene between Byrrhia, Simo, Pamphilus, and
Davus, that the dialogue is sustained by four persons, who have little
or no intercourse with each other: so that the scene is not only in
direct contradiction to the precept of Horace excluding a fourth
person, but is also otherwise vicious in its construction. Scenes of
this kind are, I think, much too frequent in Terence, though, indeed,
the form of the ancient theatre was more adapted to the representation
of them than the modern. The multiplicity of speeches _aside_ is also
the chief error in his dialogue; such speeches, though very common
in dramatic writers, ancient and modern, being always more or less
unnatural. Myrtle’s suspicions, grounded on the intelligence drawn from
Bevil’s servant, are more artfully imagined by the English poet, than
those of Charinus, created by employing his servant as a spy on the
actions of Pamphilus.”――COLMAN.


                               NOTE 130.

  _Byrrhia. (aside.) From what I hear, I fancy my master has nothing
     to do but to provide himself with another mistress as soon as
     possible._

                 Herus, quantum audio, uxore _excidit_.

“This expression is extremely elegant; excidere uxore means to lose
all hope of obtaining the woman he courted, Excidere lite, to lose a
cause, is a similar phrase. This mode of expression is in imitation
of the Greeks, who used ἐκπιπτεῖν in the same sense.”――MADAME DACIER.

Terence, undoubtedly, was extremely happy in the choice of his words;
and his expressions are frequently so terse and nervous, that they
cannot be translated but by a circumlocution which very much diminishes
their grace: the following are words of that description which occur in
this play,

     “_Liberaliter, conflictatur, familiariter, invenustum,
     indigeas, pollicitus, excidit, lactasses, ingeram, in
     proclive, produceres, conglutinas, illicis, attentus._”


                               NOTE 131.

  _Byrrhia. Well, I’ll carry him an account of what has passed. I
     suppose I shall receive an abundance of bad language in return
     for my bad news._

              Renunciabo, ut pro hoc malo mihi det malum.

There is a jest in the Latin, which it is impossible to preserve in
a translation: it turns on the word _malum_, which was used at Rome
to signify the punishment inflicted on a slave, who played his part
badly on the stage: as the inferior characters in a Roman play were
personated by slaves. Thus, Byrrhia means to say, I shall rehearse
my part so little to my master’s satisfaction, that I am sure to be
punished. The writings of Terence abound with allusions of different
kinds. It is not improbable that Terence acquired a taste for dramatic
writing, by frequenting the stage in his youth, before he obtained
his liberty: as slaves were employed in the theatres in considerable
numbers. It is remarkable that several very eminent Latin and Greek
writers were originally slaves; Terence, Cæcilius, Æsop, Diocles,
Rhianus, Epictetus, Tyrannion, and (_as some say_) Plautus, were all
elevated from a servile station. A celebrated writer remarks on this
subject as follows:――

“Of the politest and best writers of antiquity, several were slaves,
or the immediate descendants of slaves. But all the difficulties
occasioned by their low birth, mean fortune, want of friends, and
defective education, were surmounted by their _love of letters_, and
that generous spirit, which incites,

    Ἀὲν ἀριστεύειν καὶ ὑπείροχον ἔμμεναι ἄλλων.

    Still to be first, and rise above the rest.

                  Stimulos dedit æmula virtus:
    Nec quemquam jam ferre potest Cæsarve priorem
    Pompeiusve parem.――LUCAN.

    ’Twas emulative virtue spurred them on;
    Cæsar no longer a superior brooks,
    And Pompey scorns an equal.”――KNOX.

Byrrhia’s whole speech, from which the before-mentioned line was taken,
has been thus altered by the learned French writer mentioned in Notes
72 and 112. _Vide_ Note 133.

    “Ego illam vidi virginem: formâ bonâ
    Memini videre, quo æquior sum Pamphilo,
    Si se illam uxorem quam illum habere maluit.
    Renunciabo, ut pro hoc malo mihi det malum.”

The original lines are as follows,

    “Ego illam vidi virginem: formâ bonâ
    Memini videre; quo æquior sum Pamphilo,
    Si se illam in somnis, quàm illum, amplecti maluit.
    Renunciabo, ut pro hoc malo mihi det malum.”


                               NOTE 132.

  _Davus. (aside.) He has missed his aim! I see this nettles him to
     the quick._

M. Baron has lengthened this scene considerably: and makes a trial
of repartee between Simo and Davus: one passage in which I think
the ancient is surpassed by the modern, particularly deserves to be
recorded.

            “Puis-je espérer qu’aujourd’hui sans contrainte
    La vérité pourra, sans recevoir d’atteinte,
    Une fois seulement de ta bouche sortir.”
                           _Andrienne_, A. II. S. VII.

                          Tell me, slave,
    Is’t possible that truth can pass thy lips,
    And be for once unsullied in its passage.


                               NOTE 133.

  _Davus. While circumstances allowed him, and while his youth, in
     some measure, excused him, I confess he did._

This is the last passage in this play that has been altered by the
learned French writer, whom I have already cited several times. He has
varied the lines as follows,

        “Dum licitum est illi, dumque ætas tulit,
    Si vixit liberius, at cavit ne id sibi
    Infamiæ esset, ut virum fortem decet.”

Altered from the following,

              “Dum licitum est illi, dumque ætas tulit,
    Amavit: tum id clam. Cavit ne unquam infamiæ
    Ea res sibi esset, ut virum fortem decet.”

I have now completed my extracts of the alterations made by this very
learned and judicious writer, of various passages in our author, which
might sound somewhat harsh to a delicate ear. I cannot but think
that these alterations are worthy of the attention of the editors of
Latin classics, who might adopt them with advantage in those editions
of Terence, which are intended to be introduced into schools. It is
impossible to be too cautious respecting those writings which are
placed in the hands of youth: that work, perhaps, has the greatest
merit, which can be submitted to their perusal most unreservedly.

                  “Virtutem doctrina paret.”――HORACE.

I shall conclude this subject with an extract from that inestimable
Tractate of Education, addressed by Milton to Mr. Samuel Hartlib: after
various instructions to those who superintend the studies of youth, he
observes, “Either now, or before this, they may have easily learnt, at
any odd hour, the _Italian_ tongue; and soon after, but with _wariness
and good antidote_, it would be wholesome enough to let them taste some
choice comedies, _Greek_, _Latin_, or _Italian_. Those tragedies, also,
that treat of household matters, as _Trachiniæ_, _Alcestis_, and the
like.”


                               NOTE 134.

              _He was cautious as a gentleman should be._

                   Cavit――――ut _virum fortem_ decet.

The words virum fortem in this passage do not mean a brave man, but
a noble, well-bred, or honourable man. Latin authors sometimes used
fortis in that sense. Thus, Ovid, speaking of Polyxena, says,

            “Rapta sinu matris, quam jam propè sola fovebat,
             Fortis, et infelix, et plusquam fœmina, virgo
             Ducitur ad tumulum; diroque fit hostia busto.”

             The noble maid, her mother’s only hope,
             Torn from her fostering arms by barbarous force,
             Was led a victim to Achilles’ tomb:
             Where, to appease the hero’s angry shade,
             They offered up the life of her he loved.

The Romans used virtus also in a similar manner to signify virtue,
bravery, and nobleness. The Greek word καλὸς was of the same
signification with the Latin fortis: it meant sometimes a brave,
sometimes a virtuous man. Menander employs τα καλα in this sense,

    “Ἐν μυρίοις τα καλα γιγνεται πονοι.”
                                      MENANDER.

    A man, ere he deserves the name of great,
    Must overcome ten thousand difficulties.


                               NOTE 135.

        _Simo. Yet he appeared to me to be somewhat melancholy._

This is admirably contrived by our author. Pamphilus is a youth of so
open and ingenuous a disposition, that he cannot attempt to practise
the slightest deceit upon his father, without a visible uneasiness and
sadness in his demeanour. Terence conducts this affair in a manner
infinitely more natural than does Sir R. Steele; who makes young Bevil
counterfeit an eagerness to attend the lady his father designs for him,
that is rather inconsistent with strict ingenuousness. But Terence
has shewn wonderful art in his portraiture of Pamphilus’s behaviour
in this scene: he asks his father no questions; he is silent and
spiritless; and sedulously avoids mentioning any thing connected with
his marriage, or his intended bride, and, as Mr. Colman ingeniously
suggests, Pamphilus’s dissimulation may find some palliations in the
artful instigations of Davus.


                               NOTE 136.

                 _Ten drachms for the wedding supper._

Instead of referring the reader to the Table of Money in Note 208, for
the value of the drachma, I purpose to enter more at large, in this
place, into a subject that has so much occupied the attention of the
learned. The drachma, (δραχμὴ,) it is generally agreed, was equal to
three scruples, six oboli, (ὀβολὸς,) and eighteen siliqua, (κέρατιον).
Pliny, Valerius Maximus, and Strabo, believed the Attic drachma and the
Roman denarius to be equivalent. But, if we admit of the correctness
of this estimation, it affords us no certain information, as authors
can agree as little on the value of the denarius, as on that of the
drachma. Kennett computes the Roman denarius at 7_d._ 2_qrs._; Greaves,
Arbuthnot, and Adams, at 7_d._ 3_q._; Tillemont at 11_d._, and, in
the Philosophical Transactions, (Vol. LXI., Part II., Art. 48.) they
estimate the denarius at 8_d._ 1½_q._

Mr. Raper makes the Attic drachm worth 9_d._ ²⁸⁶⁄₁₀₀₀. Greaves reckons
it equal to 67 grains, which, supposing silver to be sold at 5_s._
per ounce, fixes the drachm at 8_d._ 1½_qr._ Dr. Arbuthnot computes
it 6_d._ 3_qr._ ¹³⁶⁸⁄₄₇₀₄. Others fix the Attic talent at 187_l._
10_s._, and the drachm at 7_d._ 2_qrs._, or the eighth part of an ounce
of silver. If we take the mean of these computations, we may suppose
the Attic drachm to have been equal to 8_d._; the Eginean to 13_d._
3_qrs._; the insular to 16_d._; and the drachm of Antioch, to 48_d._
The learned Madame Dacier speaks of the Attic drachm thus: “la drachme
Attique valait à peu près _cinq sols_.” No person, I think I may
venture to assert, was ever more habitually correct than Madame D.


                               NOTE 137.

          _Indeed, Sir, I think you are too frugal; it is not
                              well timed._

                Tu _quoque_ perparce nimium. Non laudo.

Donatus thinks, that the force of _quoque_ in this line is as follows:
_He (Pamphilus) is much to blame for his childish petulance in taking
offence at so trifling a circumstance: and you (Simo)_ ALSO _are to
blame for having made so sparing a provision for your son’s wedding
supper_. Terence has managed the whole circumstance very artfully: Simo
intending to deceive Pamphilus and Davus, had provided to the amount
of ten drachms, which was sixty times more than the expense of Chremes’
supper, which cost but an obolus, (_vide_ Note 120,) and accounts for
what he said to Sosia, Act I. Scene I. (_vide_ Note 60.) But we are
meant to suppose, that his frugality would not allow him to support
the deceit by purchasing a plentiful wedding supper, which, among the
Athenian citizens of rank, was a most expensive entertainment. (_Vide_
Herodot. B. 1. C. 133. Arrian, B. 7. C. 26.)


                               NOTE 138.

                _Davus. (aside.) I’ve ruffled him now._

Simo is supposed to overhear this speech of Davus. _Vide_ Note 210.

The whole of the second act (as well as the first) has been preserved
in Baron’s Andrienne, without alteration.

In the Conscious Lovers, the second act varies considerably. Instead
of the scene between Davus and his master, Indiana and Isabella are
introduced, and afterwards Indiana and Bevil: but both these scenes
are entirely barren of incident. Bevil protects Indiana, as Pamphilus
protects Glycera; but the former is on the footing of a _protector
only_, and remains an undeclared lover until the fifth act.

Terence has wrought up the second act of this play with the utmost art
and caution: a particular beauty in the pieces written by this great
poet appears in the judicious disposition of his incidents, and in his
so industriously concealing his catastrophe until the proper time for
its appearance. This is a circumstance of great importance in dramatic
writing, to which some authors pay too little attention. An ingenious
critic of the last age has pointed out a very extraordinary instance of
a total deficiency of art in this respect, where both the _plot_ and
the _catastrophe_ are completely _revealed in the very title_. This
piece is _Venice Preserved, or the Plot Discovered_, which is, in other
respects, a very fine production. How much such a title as this must
deaden the interest that an audience would otherwise feel from their
suspense! This is a point which admits of no argument.

     “Vestibulum ante ipsum, primoque in limine FINIS
      Scribitur.”――――


                               NOTE 139.

                               _Lesbia._

The circumstance of a female officiating as a medical attendant is of
some importance. Caius Hyginus, a learned Spaniard, and the freedman
of Augustus Cæsar, mentions in his “_Mythological Fables_” an ancient
Athenian law, prohibiting women from the practice of physic: this
prohibition was productive of great inconvenience in _many cases_,
and afterwards repealed; when _free women_ were suffered to practise
midwifery. To ascertain the date of this repeal, would afford us some
guide to fix on _the times_, when the scenes described in this play
were supposed to happen, and the _manners_ of which both Menander and
Terence meant to portray.


                               NOTE 140.

                               _Glycera._

I have taken the liberty of following the example of Bernard, Echard,
and most of the French translators, in softening the word Glycerium,
which, to an English ear, sounds masculine enough for the name of Cæsar
or of Alexander. But, for a female’s name,

    ――――“Why, it is harder, Sirs, than Gordon,
    Colkitto, or Macdonnel, or Galasp?
    Those rugged names to our like mouths grow sleek,
    That would have made _Quintilian_ stare and gasp.”
                                                    MILTON.


                               NOTE 141.

            _Mysis.――For, girl or boy, he has given orders,
                  that the child shall be brought up._

                  Nam quod peperisset _jussit_ tolli.

_Vide_ Notes 93, 126. When circumstances would not allow the father
of an infant to take it up from the ground himself, if he intended to
preserve it, he commissioned some friend to perform the ceremony for
him. This is the meaning of _jussit tolli_ in this passage. _Vide_
Pitis Dict., Art. _Expositio_, and Athenæ. B. 10.


                               NOTE 142.

  _Simo.――O Jupiter! what do I hear? it is all over if what she says
     be truth!――is he so mad? a foreigner too!_

I imagine that in this passage, Terence meant Simo to call Glycera
a _foreigner_ merely, and not a woman of light character, which
_peregrina_ sometimes means, (_vide_ Note 82.) Madame Dacier translates
the words ex peregrina by “_quoi d’une étrangère? c’est à dire d’une
courtisane, car comme je l’ai remarqué ailleurs, on donnoit le nom
d’étrangères à toutes les femmes debauchées_: et je crois qu’ils
avoient pris cela des Orientaux; car on trouve étrangère en ce sens
là dans les livres du VIEUX TESTAMENT.” But peregrina will hardly
bear this interpretation in this particular passage, because we must
suppose that Simo had not that opinion of Glycera’s character; for he
himself (Act I. Scene I.) says, that her appearance was “so modest
and so charming, that nothing could surpass it.” Simo, however, had
sufficient reason for exclamation; supposing that he considered Glycera
merely as a person who was not a native of Athens. The Athenian laws
were rigorously strict in prohibiting a citizen from contracting a
marriage with any woman who was not a citizen: if such a marriage was
contracted, and the parties impeached and convicted, the husband was
fined very heavily, in proportion to his property; the wife sold for
a slave; and any person who was proved to have used any species of
deceit to induce the Athenian to form this forbidden connexion, was
punished with the worst kind of infamy, which included the loss of his
liberty and of his estate. The first of these punishments was called
ζημία, the second δουλεία, and the third ἀτιμία. If Simo, therefore,
supposed that Glycera was not a citizen, and believed Pamphilus to be
her husband, his apprehensions appear very natural.


                               NOTE 143.

          _Glycera.――O Juno, Lucina, help! save me, I beseech
                                 thee._

Though Juno was sometimes called Lucina, Diana is the goddess here
called Juno Lucina. Diana received the appellation of Juno, (as I
apprehend,) because she was considered by the ancients as presiding
over women in child-birth: and might, therefore, very properly be
termed _Juno_, the guardian _genius_ of women; as Junones was the usual
name for those spirits who were supposed to be the protectors of women,
as the genii were thought to be the guardians of men: (_vide_ Note
106.) _Catullus_ addressing Diana, calls her expressly by the names
Juno Lucina:

    “Tu _Lucina_ dolentibus
    _Juno_ dicta puerperis.”

    And thou, Juno Lucina called
    By women who implore thy aid.

_Cicero_ also confirms the assertion of Catullus, “Ut apud Græcos
Dianam eamque Luciferam, sic apud nostros _Junonem Lucinam_ invocant.”
As the Greeks call upon Diana Lucifera, so we call upon the same
goddess by the names of Juno Lucina. Diana was almost universally
worshipped in Greece, where many magnificent temples were erected in
her honour: amongst which, was that of Ephesus, reckoned one of the
wonders of the world. Of this magnificent structure, the ruins may now
be seen near Ajasalouc in Natolia. The temple was purposely burned by
Eratorastus, who adopted this mode of perpetuating his name. The Greek
festivals celebrated in honour of their imaginary deities were almost
innumerable: and those dedicated to Diana, shew the high estimation in
which she was held. A surprising number of festivals were celebrated in
honour of this goddess, in various parts of Greece. The following are
the names of the chief of those held in Athens,

Τεσσαρακοστὸν, Μουνυχία, Θαργήλια, Λιμνατίδια, Ἀρτεμίσια, Βραυρώνια,
Ἐλαφηβόλια. _Vide_ Athen., Δειπνοσο, B. 14.


                               NOTE 144.

           _Why, Davus, your incidents are not well timed at
                               all, man._

                            “Non sat commode
                 Divisa sunt temporibus tibi, Dave, hæc.”

Another allusion to the drama: Simo compares Davus’s supposed plot to
a comedy, and Davus the contriver of it he calls _magister_, which was
the title of the person who instructed the actors in their parts, or
perhaps the title of the author. Simo accuses Davus of bringing forward
his catastrophe too soon, and asks him whether the actors in his piece
(_discipuli_) had forgotten their parts.

Ancient dramatic writers were very strict in adhering to their rules of
composition.

According to Vossius, the ancients divided a comedy into three parts:
1. _protasis_, 2. _epitasis_, 3. _catastrophe_. The _protasis_
occupied Act I., and was devoted to the explanation of the argument.
The _epitasis_ took up Act II. III. IV., contained the incidents, and
wrought up the mind to a degree of interest, taking care to leave
it _in doubt_; which brought on the catastrophe, which unravelled
and cleared up the whole; and is defined by _Scaliger_ thus,
“_conversio negotii exagitati in tranquillitatem non expectatam_:”
_a sudden changing of the hurry and bustle of action into unexpected
tranquillity_. The same learned critic adds a fourth part to the
before-mentioned three, which he calls _catastasis_, and places
immediately before the catastrophe: he defines the catastasis as
follows, “_vigor ac status fabulæ, in qua res miscetur in ea fortunæ
tempestate, in quam subducta est_:” _that liveliness and issue of the
plot, in which the various incidents are mixed up in such a commotion
of fortune as to be in a proper state to be brought down to the
catastrophe_.


                               NOTE 145.

           _What a laughing-stock would this rascal have made
                                of me._

                    Quos mihi _ludos_ redderet.

This is an allusion to the games which were exhibited among the
ancients with a view to entertain the people; and also to create in
them a spirit of emulation in glorious actions. Games, both in Greece
and Rome, constituted a part of religious worship; they were divided
into three classes, 1. what the Romans called _ludi equestres_, or
horse, and chariot-races; 2. _ludi agonales_, or combats of gladiators
and others, and also of beasts; 3. _ludi scenici et musici_, or
dramatic exhibitions of all kinds, music, dancing, _&c._ The chief
games among the Greeks were, 1. the _Olympic_, dedicated to Jupiter;
2. the _Pythian_, to Apollo; 3. the _Nemæan_, to Hercules; 4. the
_Isthmian_, to Neptune; 5. the games celebrated at the observation of
the _Eleusinian_ mysteries, in honour of Ceres and Proserpine: 6. _the
great Panathenæa_, dedicated to Minerva. Those who obtained the victory
in these games, were universally distinguished; and their success
reflected glory on their family, and even on the cities from whence
they came; part of the wall of which was thrown down to admit them in
triumph on their return. Those Athenians who were conquerors in the
Olympic games, were afterwards (_at their own option_,) maintained at
the public charge, and enjoyed various extraordinary privileges. Among
the Romans, the principal games were, 1. _the Ludi Romani_, dedicated
to Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva; 2. _the Sæculares_, to the deities
and the fates; 3. _the Consuales_, to Neptunus Equestris; 4. _the
Capitolini_, to Jupiter Capitolinus. The Romans celebrated their games
chiefly in the Circus Maximus; which, as a place of entertainment,
was magnificently extensive. Pliny asserts that it would contain _one
quarter of a million_ of spectators; and more modern authors have
augmented that number to 380,000.


                               NOTE 146.

                    _Now, first, let her be bathed._

                     Nunc primum _fac――――ut lavet_.

Though I have followed the common reading in this passage, as it is
not a point of any importance, I think it doubtful whether Terence
meant Lesbia to speak of the mother or the child, when she said the
words _fac ut lavet_, as the Greeks practised a remarkable ceremony
on new-born infants, in order to strengthen them. A mixture of water,
oil, and wine, was made in a vessel kept for the purpose, which
they called λουτρὸν and χύτλος, and, with this liquid, they _washed_
the children; as some think, they wished to try the strength of the
infant’s constitution, which, if weak, yielded to the powerful fumes
of the wine, and the children fell into fits. I imagine that this was
done, when it was the question if an infant should be exposed, as puny,
sickly children sometimes were. (_Vide_ Note 93.)


                               NOTE 147.

           _Davus.――Truly, at this rate, I shall hardly dare
                            open my mouth._

               Sed, si quid narrare occæpi continuo dari
               Tibi verba censes.
               S. _Falso._
               D. Itaque hercle nil jam mutire audeo.

Dr. Bentley reads _falso_ in Davus’s speech; and Cooke thinks it
should be altogether omitted. I have followed the old English edition
in supposing the word in question to be spoken _ironically_, which is
certainly consistent with the usual style of conversation between Simo
and Davus.


                               NOTE 148.

  _Now, finding that the marriage preparations are going forwards in
     our house, she sends her maid to fetch a midwife._

This is a very subtle contrivance. Davus intends that the birth of
Pamphilus’s child shall be reported to Chremes to alarm him, (as we see
Act V. Scene I. page 82,) and, therefore, that Simo may not suspect
_him_, he persuades him that Glycera is contriving to spread reports
of Pamphilus’s engagements to her. M. Baron has entirely omitted the
incident of the birth of the child. He introduces Sosia again to fill
up the chasm. In a scene between Simo, Davus, and Chremes, the latter
is induced to renew his consent to the marriage, by overhearing a
conversation between Simo and Davus; in which, as in the original, the
slave invents a tale that Pamphilus and Glycera are at variance.

Sir R. Steele varies the third act altogether; he makes it turn wholly
on the underplot, of which the chief personages are Lucinda, and her
two lovers Myrtle and Cimberton: the latter is a pedantic coxcomb, and
added to the original characters by the English poet.


                               NOTE 149.

  _And to provide a child at the same time, thinking that unless you
     should see a child, the marriage would not be impeded._

    ――――“Et puerum ut adferret simul;
    Hoc nisi fit puerum ut tu videas, nil _moventur_ nuptiæ.”

_Moventur_, in this passage, does not mean to _move forward_: but
signifies _to move back with disturbance_, _to hinder_, or _to
disorder_, and is used instead of _perturbantur_. Moveo is very
unfrequently though sometimes employed in this sense. I shall cite
one passage from _Horace_, where it has the same meaning as in the
before-mentioned line from _Terence_.

          ――――“Censorque _moveret_
    Appius, ingenuo si non essem patre natus.”

    He to whom I owe my birth was free,
    A freeborn citizen: had he not been so,
    The censor Claudius Appius would have _stopt_,
    And _driven_ me _back_.


                               NOTE 150.

         A. III. S. III. _Simo. (alone) I am not exactly, &c._

Terence uses an expression in the beginning of this scene that has
been a source of discussion among the critics. It is in the following
line,

            “Atque haud scio AN quæ dixit sint vera omnia.”

I have selected from a very long note on this passage, by an eminent
writer, the following extracts, which will afford, I trust, a
satisfactory elucidation of the line in question.

“_Atque haud scio an quæ dixit sint vera omnia_: this seems, at first
sight, to signify, _I do not know if all that he has told me be truth_;
but, in the elegance of the Latin expression, however, _haud scio an_,
means the same as _fortasse_ (perhaps) as if he had said _haud scio
an non_. Thus, in the Brothers, A. IV. S. V. v. 33. _Qui infelix haud
scio an illam misere non amat_: which does not mean, _I do not know
whether he loves her_, but, on the contrary, _I do not know that he
does not love her_. Also, in Cicero’s Epistles, B. IX. L. 13., _Istud
quidem magnum, atque haud scio an maximum_; _this is a great thing, and
perhaps the greatest of all, or, I do not know but it is the greatest
of all_. And, also, in his Oration for Marcellus, when he said that
future ages would form a juster estimate of Cæsar’s character than
could be made by men of his own times; he says, _Servis iis etiam
indicibus qui multis post sæculis de te judicabunt, et quidem haud
scio, an incorruptius quam nos_. There are numberless examples of this
kind in the writings of Cicero, and I know that there are some which
make for the opposite side of the question, as in his book on “_Old
Age_,” speaking of a country life, he says, _Atque haud scia an ulla
possit esse beatior vita_. But, it is my opinion, that these passages
have been altered by some person who did not understand that mode of
expression, and that it ought to be, Atque haud scio an _nulla_ possit
esse beatior vita.” THE AUTHOR _of the old Translation of Terence.
Printed 1671. Paris._

Terence frequently has this construction: the two following sentences
are of similar difficulty: they both occur in this play:

    Id paves, ne ducas tu illam; tu autem, ut ducas.
    Cave te esse tristem sentiat.


                               NOTE 151.

                    A. III. S. IV. _Simo, Chremes._

              _Simo.――Chremes, I am very glad to see you._

“Jubeo Chremetem (_saluere_)”: the last word is not spoken, because the
speaker is interrupted by Simo. It is necessary to observe that _jubeo_
does not always signify to _command_, but sometimes means to _wish_,
to _desire_, especially when the speaker’s wish is afterwards verbally
expressed; according to what Donatus observes on this passage,
“Columus animo, jubemus verbis.”――OLD PARIS EDITION.

Terence has portrayed Chremes as a very amiable character; he is mild
and patient, and the most benevolent sentiments issue from his lips.
It was necessary, as Donatus observes, to represent Chremes with this
temper, for, had he been violent and headstrong, he could not have
been supposed to seek Simo, and afterwards _renew his consent_, which
is a very important incident, upon which the remainder of the epitasis
entirely hinges. The Chremes of Sir R. Steele (_Sealand_) has all the
worth of Terence’s original, but is deficient in that polish of manners
which renders the Latin character so graceful.


                               NOTE 152.

         _The quarrels of lovers is the renewal of their love._

                Amantium iræ amoris integratio est.

In this sentence I have followed the Latin grammatical construction;
and I believe it is also allowable in English, in such a case as
this, to choose at pleasure either the antecedent or the subsequent
for the nominative case. Very few sentences from profane writers have
(I imagine) been more frequently repeated than _Amantium iræ amoris
integratio est_, an observation which is undeniably just. This
sentence has been repeatedly imitated.

As by _Seneca_,

   _Plisth._ “Redire pietas, unde summota est, solet.
              Reparatque vires justus amissas amor.”
                                       THYESTES, A. III. S. I.

    Affection, though repell’d, will still return:
    And faithful love, though for a moment curb’d,
    Or driven away, will, with augmented strength,
    Regain its empire.

And also by _Ovid_,

    Quæ modò pugnarunt jungunt sua rostra columbæ,
    Quarum blanditias verbaque murmur habet.
                                  OVID, _Art. Am._, B. 2. v. 465.


                               NOTE 153.

  _Simo.――Yet the most serious mischief, after all, can amount but to
     a separation, which may the gods avert._

The Athenian laws permitted citizens to divorce their wives on very
trivial pretences; but compelled them, at the same time, to give in a
memorial to the _archons_, stating the grounds on which the divorce
was desired. A citizen might put away his wife, without any particular
disgrace being attached to either the husband or the wife; and when
the divorce was by mutual consent, the parties were at liberty to
contract elsewhere. He who divorced his wife, was compelled to restore
her dowry, though he was allowed to pay it by instalments: sometimes it
was paid as alimony, nine oboli each month.

For a very flagrant offence, a wife, by the Athenian laws, might
divorce her husband: if the men divorced, they were said ἀποπέμπειν, or
ἀπολεύειν, to send away their wives: but if the women divorced, they
were said ἀπολείπειν, to quit their husbands. (_Vide Potter’s Arch.
Græc._, Vol. II. B. IV. C. 12.)

Terence artfully makes Simo use the word _discessio_ instead of
_divortium_, or _discidium_, or _repudium_: which means the worst kind
of divorce. _Discessio_, among the Romans, was nearly the same as _a
separation_ among us: by separation, I mean what our lawyers call
_divorce a mensa et thoro_; _which does not dissolve the marriage_; and
which they place in opposition to _divorce a vinculo matrimonii_; which
is a total divorce. In the earlier ages of the Roman Republic, the wife
had no option of divorcing her husband: but it was afterwards allowed,
as we see in _Martial_.

          “Mense novo Jani _veterem, Proculeia, maritum
          Deseris_, atque jubes res sibi habere suas.
    Quid, rogo, quid factum est? subiti quæ causa doloris?”
                                             B. 10. Epigr. 39.


                               NOTE 154ᴬ.

             _Why is not the bride brought? it grows late._

An Athenian bride was conveyed to her bridegroom’s house in the evening
by torchlight, attended by her friends: _vide_ Notes 116, 117, 118,
119. Various singular customs prevailed among the Athenians at their
marriages: when the bride entered her new habitation, quantities of
sweetmeats were poured over her person: she and her husband also ate
quinces, and the priests who officiated at marriages (_vide St. Basil_,
_Hom._ 7, _Hexame._) first made a repast on grasshoppers, (τέττιγες,
cicadæ,) which were in high esteem among the Athenians, who wore
golden images of this insect in their hair, and, on that account, were
called τέττιγες. Grasshoppers were thought to have originally sprung
from the earth; and, for that reason, were chosen as the symbol of the
Athenians, who pretended to the same origin.


                              NOTE 154ᴮ.

  _I have been fearful that you would prove perfidious, like the
     common herd of slaves, and deceive me in this intrigue of
     Pamphilus._

                   Ego dudum non nil veritus sum.

Donatus makes a remark on the style of this sentence, which deserves
attention, “gravis oratio ab hoc pronomine (_ego_) plerumque
inchoatur,” a speech which begins with the pronoun _ego_ is generally
grave and serious: to which some commentator has added the following
remark respecting the before-mentioned passage from Terence, “Est autem
hoc principium orationis Simonis à benevolentia per antithesin.” The
remarks of _Donatus_ and _Nonnius_ on the style of our author, are
generally very acute and ingenious. _Scaliger_, _Muretus_, and _Trapp_,
may be added to the critics before mentioned. The learned writer last
named has composed a treatise in Latin “_De Dramate_,” which contains
many very valuable hints relative to dramatic writing.


                               NOTE 155.

                   _Simo.――Ha! what’s that you say?_

There is a play upon words here, which I have endeavoured to preserve
in the English. The Latin is as follows. _Davus._ OCCIDI. _Simo._
Hem! quid dixisti? _Davus._ OPTUME inquam factum. If the requisite
similarity of sound was preserved in this pun, it may be conjectured
that the Latin _i_ was not pronounced very differently from the _i_ of
the modern Italians. _Vide_ Note 92.


                               NOTE 156.

             _Pam.――What trust can I put in such a rascal?_

                  Oh! tibi ego ut credam FURCIFER?

The epithet _furcifer_ (rascal) is of singular derivation; and, though
it was an appellation of great reproach in the times of Terence,
yet, in later ages of the Roman Republic, it bore a very different
signification. The name of _furcifer_, which was originally given to
slaves, took its rise from the Roman custom of punishing a slave who
had committed any flagrant offence, by fastening round his neck a heavy
piece of wood, in the shape of a fork, and thence called furca; this
occasioned the delinquent to be afterwards called furcifer, (furcam
ferre.) Three modes of punishment by the furca were practised at Rome:
1. ignominious, 2. penal, 3. capital. In the first, the criminal merely
carried the furca on his shoulders for a short period; in the second,
he wore the furca, and was whipped round the Forum; in the third, after
having been tied to a large furca, somewhat like a modern gallows, he
was beaten to death. Slaves were treated more severely by the Romans
than by the Athenians, who were celebrated for their mild and gentle
behaviour to that class of persons. The furca was afterwards employed
in a very different manner; and, from a badge of disgrace, was changed
to a serviceable implement. Caius Marius, nearly a hundred years after
Terence composed this play, introduced the use of the furca among his
soldiers. It was employed to carry baggage and other requisites; and,
in use, somewhat resembled a modern porter’s knot, hence, the word
_furculum_ or _ferculum_, became an expression to signify a burden, or
any thing carried in the hand: and sometimes, also, the various courses
brought to table, as in _Horace_,

    “Multaque de magnâ superessent _fercula_ cœnâ,
    Quæ procul extructis inerant hesterna canistris?”
                                             B. II. Sat. 6.


                               NOTE 157.

          _Ah! how foolishly have I relied on you, who, out of
                a perfect calm, have raised this storm._

                  Hem quo fretu siem
    Qui me hodie ex tranquillissima re conjecisti in nuptias.

“My father reads this passage thus, _en quo fretus sum_, _that is, the
rascal on whom I relied_,” &c.

                                                          MADAME DACIER.

If an error has been insinuated into the text in this passage, it
can scarcely be of sufficient importance to render an alteration
essential: the correction suggested by Madame Dacier, is not so
decidedly superior to the usual mode of reading the lines, as to
compensate for the inconvenience which must be occasioned by a general
variation of the text.


                               NOTE 158.

                      _Pam.――What do you deserve?_

This alludes to the Athenian custom of questioning supposed criminals,
either before sentence was passed, or while they were under the
torture, to the following effect: What have you deserved? and,
according to the tenor of the reply, they augmented or diminished the
punishment: _vide Nonni. Miscel._, B. 2. It was also customary, at
Athens, when the punishment was not fixed by the laws, but was left to
the discretion of the judges, that the condemned person was required
to state what injury he thought his adversary had suffered from him;
and the answer, when delivered upon oath, was called διαμοσία; by
which the final sentence was in some measure regulated.


                               NOTE 159.

          _Char. (alone.) Is this credible, or to be mentioned
                              as a truth?_

    “Hoccine credibile est, aut memorabile,
    Tanta vecordia innata cuiquam ut siet,
    Ut malis gaudeat alienis, atque ex incommodis
    Alterius, sua ut comparet commoda? ah!
    Idne est verum? Imo id genus est hominum pessimum
    In denegando modo queis pudor est paululum:
    Post ubi jam tempus est promissa perfici,
    Tum coacti necessario se aperiunt et timent,
    Et tamen res cogit eos denegare. Ibi
    Tum impudentissima eorum oratio est:
    Quis tu es? quis mihi es? cur meam tibi? heus;
    Proximus sum egomet mihi.”

Terence, in the composition of these lines, has admirably succeeded
in expressing the sense by the sounds and measure of his verse, and
the very lines seem as angry (if I may be allowed to use such an
expression) as Charinus, who is to speak them, is supposed to be.
The whole speech is written with a great deal of fire and spirit;
and represents, in a very lively manner, the impatient bursts of
indignation, and the broken periods which issue from the mouth of an
enraged and disappointed person, during the first transports of his
anger. The ancients particularly studied this poetical beauty; and
many of them have reached a degree of excellence scarcely inferior to
that of the moderns. Terence has as eminently distinguished himself
by his success in this ornament to composition as he has by his other
excellencies: as familiar verse, his compositions are extremely
harmonious.

Mr. Pope has described the poetical embellishment before mentioned in
a most inimitable poem, which at once explains and exemplifies his
meaning.

    “’Tis not enough no harshness gives offence,
    The sound must seem an echo to the sense:
    Soft is the strain when zephyr gently blows,
    And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows;
    But when loud surges lash the sounding shore,
    The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar:
    When Ajax strives some rock’s vast weight to throw,
    The line too labours, and the words move slow;
    Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain,
    Flies o’er th’ unbending corn, and skims along the main.”

Virgil was particularly successful in his endeavours to impart this
ornament to his composition. The following lines are reckoned by the
critics to be a beautiful specimen of his ability in this species of
verse.

    “Ter sunt conati imponere Pelio Ossam
    Scilicet, atque Ossæ frondosum involvere Olympum.”
                                  Georg., B. I. V. 281.

    Sternitur exanimisque tremens procumbit humi bos.
                                          Æneis, B. 5.


                               NOTE 160.

  _Those men have characters of the very worst description, who
     make a scruple to deny a favour; and are ashamed, or unwilling
     to give a downright refusal at first; but who, when the time
     arrives. &c._

This is one of those beautiful passages which prove Terence to have
been so able a delineator of character. How faithful a picture does
he here draw of this particular species of weakness! A man is asked
a favour which he knows it is out of his power to compass, and yet
feels a repugnance to candidly avow it: he cannot bear to witness the
uneasiness of the disappointed person, and, from a kind of false shame,
he misleads him with a promise which he cannot perform. To detect those
lurking impulses which almost escape observation, though they influence
the actions: to describe with force and elegance, and convince the mind
of a feeling of which it was before scarcely conscious, is an effort of
genius worthy of a Terence.


                               NOTE 161.

  _If any one tell me, that no advantage will result from it: I
     answer this, that I shall poison his joy: and even that will
     yield me some satisfaction._

    Ingeram mala multa: atque aliquis dicat; Nihil promoveris.
    Multum; molestus certè ei fuero, atque animo morem gessero.

This sentiment has been imitated by the first of dramatists in his
Othello: he has expanded it into a greater number of lines, which are
extremely beautiful.

    _Iago._ Call up her father,
    Rouse him, make after him, poison his delight.
    Proclaim him in the streets, incense her kinsmen.
    And tho’ he in a fertile climate dwell,
    Plague him with flies: tho’ that his joy be joy,
    Yet throw such changes of vexation on’t,
    As it may lose some colour.――
                        SHAKSPEARE’S _Othello_, A. 1. S. 1.

The soliloquy of Charinus, (of which the lines I have cited in the
commencement of this Note form a part,) is one of the best written in
the plays of our author: it is exactly of the kind recommended by the
_Duke of Buckingham_.

   “Soliloquies had need be very few,
    Extremely short, and spoke in passion too.
    Our lovers, talking to themselves, for want
    Of others, make the pit their confidant:
    Nor is the matter mended yet, if thus
    They trust a friend only to tell it us.”

A soliloquy is introduced with most success, when the speaker of it
is supposed to be deliberating with himself on doubtful subjects:
but, when narration is to be introduced, it is brought forward with
more advantage in the shape of a dialogue between the speaker and
his confidant. But a skilful dramatist can often employ a preferable
method to either of those I have just named, for the disposition of
narration. Papias lays it down as an absolute rule for the composition
of soliloquies, that they must be deliberations only.


                               NOTE 162.

                           _Well, take her._

Sir R. Steele, in his play, called _the Conscious Lovers_, does not
represent Myrtle as comporting himself in his disappointment with the
moderation observed by Charinus. He challenges Bevil: though the duel
is afterwards prevented by the patience and forbearance of the latter,
who communicates to his angry friend a letter which he had received
from Lucinda, expressive of her favourable thoughts of Myrtle. The
ingenious author of the Conscious Lovers imagined, no doubt, that to
an English audience, Charinus’s easy resignation of his mistress to
Pamphilus would appear tame and unnatural. In nothing do the manners
of the ancients and the moderns differ more widely than in their
respective behaviour in cases of private injury, real or imagined.
Among the ancient Greeks and Romans, _duelling_ was totally unknown.
Alexander and Pyrrhus, Themistocles, Leonidas, and Epaminondas, the
Scipios and Hannibal, Cæsar and Pompey, all men whose fame will never
be surpassed, and a countless number of the heroes of antiquity, would
have scorned to draw their swords in a private quarrel. It was reserved
for Christians, to introduce and countenance this barbarous practice;
which ought to be the shame of civilized humanity. Barbarous, however,
it can scarcely with justice be called: for those nations whose
unpolished manners caused them to be termed barbarians, were never
known to have adopted it; nor has a single instance occurred, where
men, in a state of uncultivated nature, have been known to sacrifice a
brother’s life in the mortal arbitration of a private quarrel. Duelling
was originally practised among northern nations. Those who wish to
entertain just ideas on this subject cannot do better than to consult
_A Discourse on Duelling, by the Rev. Thomas Jones, A.M., Trinity
College, Cambridge_.


                               NOTE 163.

                    _Pam.――Why do you vex me thus?_

                           Cur me enicas.

Eneco and enico are thought by some critics to have been exactly
similar in signification; but eneco generally means to kill, as in
Plautus _angues enecavit_: whereas enico signifies only to teaze, or to
torment; as in the passage in Terence before mentioned. _Vide_ Horace
Ep., B. I. Ep. 7. L. 87.


                               NOTE 164.

                 _Davus.――Hist! Glycera’s door opens._

              _Hem’! st, mane, crepuit a Glycerio ostium._

Literally, a noise is made on the inside of Glycera’s door. As all the
street-doors in Athens opened towards the street, it was customary to
knock loudly on the inside, before the door was thrown open, lest, by
a sudden and violent swing, the heavy barrier should injure any of the
passengers. The Greeks called this ceremony ψοφεῖν θυραν. All the doors
of the Romans opened inwards, unless (which rarely happened) a law was
passed to allow any particular person to open his door towards the
street. This was considered a very great honour, and never conferred
but as a reward for very eminent services.

In Sparta, a law prevailed that no instrument but a kind of saw should
be employed in making the doors of the houses; this regulation was
intended to prevent luxury, and wasteful expense. Both in Athens and
Rome, the first room within the door was made extremely large, and
highly ornamented. This room was called aula by the Romans, and, by
the Greeks αὐλὴ. Here were placed the trophies gained by the master of
the house, and by his family. In later and more luxurious ages, the
doors were made of more costly materials, sometimes they formed them
of metal, either iron or brass; sometimes also ivory was used for this
purpose, or scarce and curious kinds of wood.


                               NOTE 165.

  _Mysis. (speaking to Glycera within.) I will directly, Madam;
     wherever he may be, I’ll take care to find your dear Pamphilus,
     and bring him to you: only, my love, let me beg you not to make
     yourself so wretched._

Sir R. Steele and Monsieur Baron have brought both Glycera and
Philumena on the stage; but, in the Latin drama, the principal female
characters (if they appear at all) are generally mutes. It is a
circumstance worthy of our attention, that (except in one instance)
Terence never brings on the stage any female character of rank and
consideration: the women who take a part in the dialogue are generally
either attendants, or professional people, as nurses, midwives, _&c._
But this exclusion, (though our author has been compelled to sacrifice
to it all those embellishments which the portraiture of the Athenian
ladies must have added to his scenes,) is in strict conformity with
the manners of the Greeks. Grecian women of rank seldom appeared in
company, and closely confined themselves within doors, occupying the
most remote parts of the house. Unmarried women were scarcely allowed
to quit the rooms they inhabited, without giving previous notice to
their protectors. Terence was instructed clearly in this point, by his
great original _Menander_; who expressly says, that the door of the
αὐλὴ, or hall, was a place where even a married woman ought never to be
seen. Women, among the Greeks, seldom inhabited the same apartment with
the men: their rooms were always kept as retired as possible, usually
in the loftiest part of the house. _Vide_ Hom. Il., γʹ v. 423; their
apartments were called Gynæceum, (γυναικεῖον). _Vide_ Terence’s
Phormio, Act 5. S. 6, where he says,

       “Ubi in _Gynæceum_ ire occipio, puer ad me accurrit Mida.”

These rooms were sometimes called ὦα, which signifies also _eggs_; it
is supposed that the fable of Castor, Pollux, Helen, and Clytemnestra,
being hatched from eggs, took its rise from the double signification of
the word ὦα.


                               NOTE 166.

  _Pam.――The oracles of Apollo are not more true: I wish that, if
     possible, my father may not think that I throw any impediments
     in the way of the marriage: if not, I will do what will be
     easily done, tell him frankly that I cannot marry Chremes’
     daughter._

Among the Greeks, no oracles were either so numerous or so highly
esteemed as those of Apollo. The first place among them is assigned to
the oracle at Delphi, near mount Parnassus, which excelled the others
in magnificence, and claimed the precedence in point of antiquity. Next
to this, ranks the oracle in the island of Delos, the birthplace of
Apollo and Diana. It is situated in the north part of Mare Ægeum, or
Archipelago, not far from the Isle of Andros, and between Myconus and
Rhene. The Athenians reverenced this oracle above all others, and its
answers were held to be infallible. Theseus, the most celebrated of the
Athenian heroes, instituted a solemn procession to Delos, in honour of
Apollo. A certain number of Athenian citizens were chosen, who were
called Θεωροὶ, who made the voyage in a sacred ship; the same in which
Theseus and his companions were said to have sailed to Crete. This
ship was denominated ἀειζώοντα, on account of its great age: it was
preserved till the time of Demetrius Phalereus. No criminal was ever
put to death during the absence of the sacred ship.


                               NOTE 167.

            _Char. (to Pamphilus.) But you are constant and
                              courageous._

  P. Quis videor? C. Miser æque atque ego. D. Consilium quæro. C.
     Fortis.

Critics have differed considerably respecting this passage. Some think
the word fortis should be understood as addressed to Davus.

I have adopted the interpretation which M. le Fevre, Madame Dacier’s
father, has given of this passage. Pamphilus, after expressing his
resolution to remain faithful to Glycera, turns to Charinus, expecting
a compliment on his behaviour. After a jest on his friend’s having
reduced himself to such a forlorn situation, by following the advice
of Davus, Charinus, by the word fortis, pays him the compliment his
handsome conduct deserved.


                               NOTE 168.

           _Pam. (to Davus.) I know what you would attempt._

Pamphilus, in this speech, alludes to his jest upon Davus in the
previous scene, where he says, “I have no doubt, that if that wise head
of yours goes to work,” _&c._, _vide_ p. 67, l. 8. Pamphilus means, I
imagine, when he says, “I know what you would attempt,” I suppose you
are going to provide the two wives I was speaking of. He could not mean
that he really knew Davus’s plan: because he asks him afterwards, page
70, line 10, what he intended to do.


                               NOTE 169.

               _Pam.――What are you going to do? tell me._

The Davus of M. Baron, instead of laying the child at Simo’s door,
makes a false report to Mysis, that Pamphilus intends to desert
Glycera, and to espouse Philumena: Mysis communicates this to her
mistress, who, in her distress, throws herself at Chremes’ feet, and
shews him the contract of her marriage with Pamphilus. This induces
Chremes to favour Glycera, and to break off the intended marriage.


                               NOTE 170.

          _Hitherto, he has been to her a source of more evil
                              than good._

“As I never was able to make any sense of facile hic plus est quam
illic boni, I choose to give the passage a turn, though contrary to
all the readings which I have seen, which makes that proper, with
the omission of one word, which was not before intelligible. The
usual construction of the words, as they stand in all editions, is
this,――there is more ill in his sorrow, or trouble, (some read dolorem,
some laborem,) than there is good in his love: see, particularly,
Camus’s edition for the use of the Dauphin, which is not only a poor
meaning, and unworthy Terence, but inconsistent with what Mysis
had said before in the preceding scenes: I therefore choose to be
singular and intelligible, rather than to go with all the editors and
translators of our poet, and be obscure.”――COOKE.


                               NOTE 171.

           _Davus.――Take the child from me directly, and lay
                         him down at our door._

                Accipe à me hunc ocius,
    Atque ante nostram januam appone.

Some commentators read vestram januam, appone, lay him down before
your door. But Davus tells Simo, A. III. S. II., (page 51, line 13,)
that Glycera intends to have a child laid at _his_ door. It could have
answered no purpose, moreover, to have placed Glycera’s child at her
own door. We must rather suppose that Davus wished Simo to think that
Glycera had sent the infant to Pamphilus as its father. _Vide_ Note 174.


                               NOTE 172.

           _Davus.――You may take some of the herbs from that
                   altar, and strew them under him._

“Altar, Altare, Ara, a place or pile whereon to offer sacrifice to
some deity. Among the Romans, the _altar_ was a kind of pedestal,
either square, round, or triangular; adorned with sculpture, with
basso-relievos, and inscriptions, whereon were burnt the victims
sacrificed to idols. According to Servius, those _altars_ set apart
for the honour of the celestial gods, and gods of the higher class,
were placed on some pretty tall pile of building; and, for that reason,
were called _altaria_, from the word _alta_ and _ara_, a high elevated
_altar_. Those appointed for the terrestrial gods, were laid on the
surface of the earth, and called _aræ_. And, on the contrary, they
dug into the earth, and opened a pit for those of the infernal gods
which were called βοθροι λακκοι, _scrobiculi_. But this distinction is
not every-where observed: the best authors frequently use _ara_ as a
general word, under which are included the altars of the celestial and
infernal, as well as those of the terrestrial gods. Witness Virgil,
Ecl. 5.

                         ――――_En quatuor aras_,

where _aræ_ plainly includes _altaria_; for whatever we make of
Daphnis, Phœbus was certainly a celestial god. So Cicero, pro Quint.
_Aras delubraque Hecates in Græcia vidimus._ The Greeks, also,
distinguish two sorts of _altars_; that whereon they sacrificed to
the gods was called βωμος, and was a real _altar_, different from
the other, whereon they sacrificed to the heroes, which was smaller,
and called εσχαρα. Pollux makes this distinction of _altars_ in his
Onomasticon: he adds, however, that some poets used the word εσχαρα,
for the altar whereon sacrifice was offered to the gods. The Septuagint
version does sometimes also use the word εσχαρα, for a sort of little
low _altar_, which may be expressed in Latin by _craticula_, being a
hearth, rather than an _altar_.”――CHAMBERS’ _Cyclopædia_.

Scaliger thinks that the altar mentioned by Terence was the altar
usually placed on the stage of a theatre during representation, and
consecrated to Bacchus in tragedy, and to Apollo in comedy. It is most
probable, that one of the ἐσχάραι is alluded to by our author in this
passage. The ἐσχάραι were low altars which stood before the doors in
Athens: they were dedicated to the ancient heroes.


                               NOTE 173.

  _Davus.――That if my master should require me to swear that I did
     not do it, I may take the oath with a safe conscience._

The Greeks paid very great regard to oaths. They divided them into
two classes. The first kind was the μέγας ὅρκος, or great oath, when
the swearer called the gods to witness his truth; the second was the
μικρὸς ὅρκος, when the swearer called on other creatures. They usually,
when falsely accused of any crime, took an oath to clear themselves.
This oath was sometimes administered in a very singular manner: the
oath of exculpation was written on a tablet, and hung round the neck,
and rested on the breast of the accused, who was then compelled to
wade into the sea about knee-deep: if the oath was true, the water
remained stationary; but, if false, it instantly rose up, and covered
the tablet, that so dreadful a sight as a false oath might be concealed
from the view of mankind. The Athenians were proverbial for their
sincere regard for truth. _Vide_ Velleius Paterculus, B. 1. C. 4.,
also, in B. 2. C. 23: we are told

“Adeò enim certa Atheniensum in Romanos fides fuit, ut semper et in
omni re, quicquid sincerâ fide generetur, id Romani Atticâ fieri,
prædicarent.”――MARCUS VELLEIUS PATERCULUS, B. 2. C. 23. L. 18.

The Athenians behaved with so much good faith and inviolable honour in
all their treaties with the Romans, that it became a custom at Rome,
when a person was affirmed to be just and honourable, to say, he is as
faithful as an Athenian.


                               NOTE 174.

  _Davus. (to himself.) The father of the bride is coming this way; I
     abandon my first design._

  _Mysis.――I don’t understand this._

Davus’s first design was (we are to suppose) to go to Simo as soon as
Mysis had placed the child at the door, and acquaint him that Glycera
had sent him Pamphilus’s child. This would have compelled Simo to
suspend the marriage until he had ascertained the real nature of
Glycera’s claims on his son. Though Davus’s speech is not usually read
aside, we cannot suppose that Mysis heard him say, that Chremes, the
bride’s father, approached, because, in the ninth scene of the same
act, (_vide_ p. 78, l. preantepen,) he tells her, “that was the bride’s
father,” and she replies, “you should have given me notice then.”


                               NOTE 175.

  _Mysis. (aside to Davus.)――Are you mad to ask me such a question?_

  _Davus.――Whom should I ask? I can see no one else here._

This certainly seems a little over-acted on the part of Davus,
considering that he knew Chremes to be so very near him. If we conclude
that Davus acted his part with the proper gestures, and accompanied the
above words with the very natural action of looking round him, to see
if any other person was visible near Simo’s door; it appears extremely
improbable that he should not have seen Chremes, who was near enough to
hear all that passed between Davus and Mysis. Davus intended that what
passed between Mysis and himself should be overheard by Chremes, whom
he knew to be but a very few yards distant. It seems extraordinary,
therefore, that Davus should make use of an expression which compelled
him to run the risk of being obliged to recognise Chremes if he looked
round, and, if he did not, of raising a suspicion in his mind, that
Davus knew him to be there: either circumstance must effectually have
spoiled the stratagem, to deter Chremes from the match. To solve this
apparent inconsistency, we must suppose that Chremes, wishing, for
obvious reasons, to overhear what passed between Mysis and Davus,
had, at the entrance of the latter, withdrawn himself behind a row of
pillars, or into a portico, or cloister, (which were common in the
streets of Athens, and were also built upon the Roman stage,) lest his
presence, which Mysis knew of, as he had questioned her, should be a
check upon their conversation; from which he, of course, expected to
learn the truth respecting the child at Simo’s door, as he knew that
Mysis was the servant of Glycera, and Davus the servant of Pamphilus.


                               NOTE 176.

          _Mysis.――The deuce take you, fellow, for terrifying
                          me in this manner._

              Dii te _eradicent_, ita me miseram territas.

Literally, May the gods root you up. An ingenious French critic informs
us, that the Romans borrowed this expression from the Greeks, who say,
“_to destroy a man to the very root_:” and, that the Greeks borrowed it
from the eastern nations. We have a similar expression in English, _to
destroy root and branch_.


                               NOTE 177.

           _Chremes. (aside.) I acted wisely in avoiding the
                                match._

                      Recte ego fugio has nuptias.

The general way of reading this line is as follows:

    Recte ego _semper_ fugi has nuptias.

    I acted wisely in _always_ avoiding the match.

This reading must be erroneous, because, so far from having _always_
avoided the match, Chremes himself originally proposed it to Simo,
(_vide_ p. 15, l. 18.) and afterwards renewed his consent to it.
(_Vide_ p. 58. l. 24.)


                               NOTE 178.

         _Davus.――’Tis true, I saw old Canthara, with something
                           under her cloak._

There is great ingenuity displayed in the conduct of this scene. Davus
affirms this, as Donatus observes, “Hoc dicit ut leviter redarguat
Mysis, non ut vincatur,” that Mysis may easily confute him; and prove
that it is the child of Pamphilus which must terrify Chremes. He
contradicts her, that she may (in Chremes’ hearing) enter into the
proof of what she says. Instead of Cantharam, Nonnius thinks that
Terence meant cantharum, a large jug; and that he intended Davus
to say, that the child was brought to Glycera’s house in a large
cantharus. _Vide_ Nonnius’s Miscell., B. 1, and his remarks on the
whole of this scene.


                               NOTE 179ᴬ.

  _Mysis.――Thank Heaven, that there were some free-women present when
     my mistress was delivered._

No person could appear as a witness in the Athenian courts of justice,
who was not free-born, and also possessed of a fair character. Those
who were ἄτιμοι, infamous, were not permitted to give testimony. In
particular cases, strangers and freedmen were admitted as witnesses.
Every person who was appealed to as a witness, was compelled either to
state what he knew of the affair, or to swear that he was ignorant of
all the circumstances of it: if he refused to give any answer whatever,
he incurred a heavy fine.


                               NOTE 179ᴮ.

  _Mysis.――By Pollux, fellow, you are drunk._

To accuse a person of intoxication was considered in Athens and Sparta
as one of the greatest affronts that could possibly be committed. Very
severe laws were framed in Greece for the punishment of those who were
seen in a state of intoxication. The Athenian archons suffered death,
if detected in this vice. The Greeks accused the Scythians of having
taught them habits of drunkenness. The Spartans affirm, that Cleomenes
became first drunk, and afterwards mad, by his associating and drinking
with them.

    Σκυθησι, δε ὁμιλησαντά μιν ακρηποτην και εκ τουτου μανῆναι.
                                                           HERODOTUS.


                               NOTE 180.

          _Davus.――One falsehood brings on another: I hear it
           whispered about that she is a citizen of Athens._

The citizens of Athens were called γηγενεῖς, or sons of the earth,
and ἀστοὶ. They were called also τεττιγες, or τεττιγοφορους, _wearers
of grasshoppers_; this appellation, authors have derived differently.
_Tretzes_ thinks it was to designate them as fluent orators. _Lucian_
considers it merely as a distinction to divide them from the slaves:
and others say, it was because they thought that grasshoppers sprung
from the earth; and therefore chose them for the symbol of a people
who pretended to the same origin: _vide_ Note 154. The Athenians were
called also πολίται. The citizens were divided by Cecrops into four
tribes, (_vide_ Poll., B. 3. 64,) each tribe was divided into three
classes, and each class into thirty families. The names of the tribes
were, 1. Κεκροπὶς, 2. Αὐτόχθων, 3. Ἀκταία, 4. Παραλιά. These names
were afterwards changed by Cranaus, (_vide_ Plut. in Solon,) and also
by Ericthonius and Erectheus. When the number of the inhabitants
increased, new tribes were added. To obtain the Athenian citizenship
was deemed so glorious, that foreigners of the very first rank eagerly
sought this distinction; which it was extremely difficult to gain:
as the Athenians would never admit any persons but those who had
signalized themselves by their virtue and bravery.


                               NOTE 181.

         _Davus.――And that he will be compelled to marry her._

The Athenian laws did not allow of polygamy: if Glycera, therefore, had
been proved to be a citizen, her marriage with Pamphilus would have
been valid; and Philumena, if married to him, must have been divorced.
We are to suppose, that the apprehension of this circumstance induces
Chremes to break off the marriage.


                               NOTE 182.

            _Davus. (half aloud.)――He has heard all: what an
                               accident._

                         ――――Audistin’ obsecro?

These words are usually read as addressed directly to Chremes; but it
appears more probable that Terence intended Davus to speak them as if
he meant no one to hear what he said, and yet contrive to raise his
voice loud enough for Chremes to overhear him pretend to be alarmed,
lest what Mysis had been saying should do any mischief. This feigned
consternation was calculated to strengthen Chremes’ belief of the
genuineness of the previous scene.


                               NOTE 183.

            _This impudent wench ought to be taken hence and
                               punished._

               ――――Hanc jam oportet in cruciatum abripi.

The usual reading is cruciatum _hinc_ abripi; but _hinc_ cannot be
necessary to the sense, and spoils moreover the harmony of the line.
Neither of the two ancient manuscripts of Terence, in the royal library
at Paris, have _hinc_. There are a great many disputed readings in the
plays of Terence, which, by a reference to the various ancient MSS. of
our author now extant, might probably be determined. An edition of the
plays, regulated by the authority of these MSS., would doubtless be
highly serviceable. The most learned woman of her age, Madame Dacier,
whose translation of Terence is alone sufficient to perpetuate his name
and her own, in her preface to that inestimable work, speaks at length,
and in very high terms, of the MSS. of Terence, in the library of his
most Christian Majesty. She expresses herself as follows: “I found in
them (the MSS.) several things which gave me the greatest pleasure,
and which satisfactorily prove the correctness of the most important
alterations which I have made in the text, as to the division of the
acts, which is of great consequence.” Madame D. reckons the MSS. to
be eight or nine hundred years old. _Vide Madame Dacier’s Translation
of Terence, Edition of Rotterdam, 1717, Preface, page 38._ Among the
books which his holiness Pope Sixtus V. caused to be removed to the
_Bibliotheca Vaticana_, which he placed in the old Vatican palace, or
the _Palazzo Vecchio_, there was a very curious MS. of the comedies
of Terence, which was particularly valued for the representation
which it contained of the _personæ_, or masks, worn by the ancient
actors. It was also extremely curious in other respects. Those who
enjoy an opportunity of consulting this MS. might derive much and very
profitable amusement from a perusal of it. If it still remain in Rome,
it may be seen, on application to the chief librarian, who is generally
a member of the sacred college. A very curious MS. of Virgil, of the
fourth century, written in the _Literæ unciales_, and Henry VIII.’s
MS. de Septem Sacramentis, were formerly shewn to strangers with the
before-mentioned MS. of Terence.


                               NOTE 184.

  _Davus.――That’s the bride’s father: I wished him to know all this;
     and there was no other way to acquaint him with it._

Terence here (say the critics) obliquely praises himself, and the
art which he has displayed in this scene. The only scenes of a
similar nature, (I mean where the plot is carried on by a concerted
conversation intended to be overheard by some person who thinks it
genuine,) which are equal to this scene in the Andrian, are the ninth
scene of the second act, and the first scene of the third act of
Shakspeare’s comedy of _Much Ado about Nothing_.

The before-mentioned scene from the Andrian has been wholly omitted by
Sir R. Steele. Sealand does not renew his consent to the marriage till
the end of the fifth act.

M. Baron has introduced Crito earlier than he appears in the Latin
play, and closes the fourth act with Glycera’s appeal to Chremes; and
two subsequent scenes between Glycera, Mysis, Pamphilus, and Davus.
Glycera’s appeal to Chremes is extremely pathetic. It concludes with
the following lines:――

   “Vous en qui je crois voir un protecteur, un père
    Ne m’abandonnez pas à toute ma misère
    En m’ôtant mon époux, vous me donnez la mort.
    Vous pouvez d’un seul mot faire changer mon sort.
    C’est donc entre vos mains qu’aujourd’hui je confie
    Mon repos, mon honneur, ma fortune, et ma vie.”
                               _Andrienne_, A. IV. S. VIII.


                               NOTE 185.

  _Davus.――Do you think that a thing of this sort can be done as well
     by premeditating and studying, as by acting according to the
     natural impulse of the moment?_

“It is an observation of Voltaire’s, in the Preface to his comedy
of L’Enfant Prodigue, that although there are various kinds of
pleasantry that excite mirth, yet universal bursts of laughter are
seldom produced, unless by a scene of mistake or _æquivoque_. A
thousand instances might be given to prove the truth of this judicious
observation. There is scarce any writer of comedy who has not drawn
from this source of humour. A scene, founded on a misunderstanding
between the parties, where the characters are all at cross-purposes
with each other, never fails to set the audience in a roar; nor,
indeed, can there be a happier incident in a comedy, if produced
naturally, and managed judiciously.

“The scenes in this act, occasioned by the artifice of Davus
concerning the child, do not fall directly under the observation of
Voltaire; but are, however, so much of the same colour, that, if
represented on the stage, they would, I doubt not, have the like
effect, and be the best means of confuting those infidel critics who
maintain that Terence has no humour. I do not remember a scene in
any comedy where there is such a natural complication of pleasant
circumstances. Davus’s sudden change of his intentions on seeing
Chremes, without having time to explain himself to Mysis; her confusion
and comical distress, together with the genuine simplicity of her
answers; and the conclusion drawn by Chremes from the supposed quarrel;
are all finely imagined, and directly calculated for the purposes
of exciting the highest mirth in the spectators. The words of Davus
to Mysis in this speech, “Is there then,” _&c._, have the air of an
oblique praise of this scene from the poet himself, shewing with what
art it is introduced, and how naturally it is sustained. Sir Richard
Steele had deviated so much from Terence in the original construction
of his fable, that he had no opportunity of working this scene into
it. Baron, who, I suppose, was afraid to hazard it on the French
theatre, fills up the chasm by bringing Glycerium on the stage. She,
amused by Davus with a forged tale of the falsehood of Pamphilus,
throws herself at the feet of Chremes, and prevails on him once more to
break off the intended match with Philumena. In consequence of this
alteration, the most lively part of the comedy in Terence becomes the
gravest in Baron: the artifice of Davus is carried on with the most
starch formality, and the whole incident, as conducted in the French
imitation, loses all that air of ease and pleasantry, which it wears in
the original.”――COLMAN.


                               NOTE 186.

          A. IV. S. 10.――_Crito. (to himself.) I am told_, &c.

Crito is what Scaliger calls a _catastatic_ character, because he is
the chief personage of the catastasis, (καταστασις,) _vide_ Note 144,
and introduced for the purpose of leading the way to the catastrophe of
the piece.


                               NOTE 187.

        _Rather than live in honest poverty in her own country._

    Quæ se inhonestè optavit _parare_ hîc divitias
    Potius, quàm in patriâ honestè _pauper_ vivere

Some editors (_vide Joan. Riveus_) read this passage differently,

    Quæ se inhonestè optavit _parere_ hîc divitias
    Potius, quàm in patriâ honestè _paupera_ vivere.

Others, instead of Quæ _se_ read Quæ _sese_: this is a very elegant
pleonasm.


                               NOTE 188.

              _That wealth, however, now devolves to me._

The inhabitants of the island of Andros were subject to the Athenian
laws, which prohibited women from bequeathing by will more than the
value of a medimnum (μεδιμνον) of barley. The medimnum was equal to
four English pecks and a half. Therefore, as Chrysis had not the power
of bequeathing her property, Crito claimed it as heir at law. The
Athenian laws relating to wills were very numerous, and very strict
in guarding against an improper appropriation of property. Slaves,
foreigners, minors, and adopted persons, as well as those who had male
heirs, were, by the laws of Solon, rendered incapable of making a will.

Those persons who had no offspring of their own, frequently adopted the
children of others, who inherited their estates. Sometimes foreigners
were adopted, after having received the freedom of the city. A person
who succeeded to the property of another, as heir at law, was bound,
under a heavy penalty, to take care, (if on the spot,) that funeral
honours were paid to the deceased. This was reckoned a point of great
importance: the Greeks were willing to proceed to any extremity rather
than suffer their friends to want the rites of sepulture, as we see in
_Lucretius_, who describes the outrageous actions to which the people
were driven during a plague; when they committed acts of the greatest
violence, rather than permit their friends to want funeral honours.

    “Multaque vis subita, et paupertas horrida suasit;
    Namque suos consanguineos aliena rogorum,
    Insuper instructa ingenti clamore locabant:
    Subdebantque faces, multo cum sanguine sæpe
    Rixantes, potiùs quam corpora deserentur.”
                                             LUCRETIUS.

    Compelled by poverty to desperate deeds,
    Their rage another’s funeral pile invades:
    With furious shouts they rend his corse away,
    Then to the pile their own dead friends convey.
    They guard the spot, until the rising flames                }
    Consume the load the lofty pile sustains,                   }
    And fight, and bleed, and die, ere quit their loved remains.}


                               NOTE 189.

          _Mysis.――Bless me! whom do I see? Is not this Crito,
                    the kinsman of Chrysis? It is._

           Quem video? estne hic Crito, _sobrinus_ Chrysidis.

_Sobrinus_ means literally a mother’s sister’s child, or what we call
in English, a maternal cousin-german: but this particularity is not
admissible in a translation.


                               NOTE 190.

               _Crito.――Alas! poor Chrysis is then gone._

Here is an additional instance of Terence’s infinite attention to
manners, and of his success in presenting to his readers a perfect
copy of the customs and habits of the Greeks. Crito, though he alludes
to the death of Chrysis, avoids any mention of death; and breaks off
in a manner which is infinitely more expressive than words could have
been. Some of the ancients, the Greeks in particular, studiously
avoided, as much as possible, any direct mention of death, which they
accounted to be ominous of evil; and always spoke of human mortality,
(when compelled to mention it,) in soft and gentle expressions. They
were even averse to write θανατος, death, at full length; and not
unfrequently expressed it by the first letter θ; thus, if they wished
to write down the circumstance of any person’s decease, they wrote the
name of the deceased, and affixed to it the letter θ, _vide_ Note 113,
also Isidor. Hispal. Orig. B. 1. C. 23. In breviculis, quibus militum
nomina continebantur, propria nota erat apud veteres, quæ respiceretur,
quanti ex militibus superessent, quanti in bello excidissent, τ in
capite versiculi posita superstitem designabat, θ verò ad unius
cujusque defuncti nomen adponebatur.


                               NOTE 191.

  _And the example of others will teach me what ease, redress, and
     profit, I have to expect from a suit at law: besides, I suppose
     by this time, she has some lover to espouse her cause._

Madame Dacier, in a brilliant and acute critique, has explained this
passage in a most perspicuous and comprehensive manner.

                  ――――Nunc me hospitem
    Lites sequi, quam hîc mihi sit facile atque utile,
    Aliorum exempla commonent.

“Présentement qu’un étranger comme moi aille entreprendre des procès,
les exemples des autres me font voir combien cela serait difficile
dans une ville comme celle-ci.”

“I have found, in a copy of Terence’s plays, a marginal note, in my
father’s hand-writing, to the following effect: Hunc locum non satis
potest intelligere qui librum Xenophontis περὶ Ἀθηναίων πολιτείας non
legerit. He who has not read the short treatise of Xenophon on the
civil government of the Athenians, can never perfectly comprehend
the full force of this passage. I profited by this information: I
have read this short treatise, and have been extremely pleased with
it: the trouble the perusal cost me has been amply repaid, as I have
ascertained by reading this treatise, that the inhabitants of those
cities and islands which were subject to the Athenian government were
obliged, when they had a suit at law pending, to plead it in Athens,
before the people: it could be decided no where else. Crito, therefore,
could not have expected impartial judgment from that tribunal,
which would certainly have favoured Glycera, the reputed sister of
Chrysis, who had settled in Athens, in preference to a stranger like
Crito. So much for the success of the affair: next the delays are
to be considered, which, to a stranger, are so doubly annoying. For
law-suits at Athens were protracted to an almost endless length: the
Athenians were such a very litigious people, and had so many law-suits
of their own, and celebrated so many festivals, that they had very
few days to spare, and the suits of strangers were so lengthened
out, and deferred from time to time, that they were almost endless.
In addition, moreover, to the uncertainty, and the delay, there was
a third inconvenience, still more disagreeable than either of the
others, which was, that in a case of that kind, it became necessary
to pay court to the people at a great expense. Crito, therefore, had
sufficient reason to feel repugnant to engage in a process which might
be so protracted and so expensive, the event of which (to say no worse)
was extremely precarious. I hope I have rendered this passage perfectly
clear.”――MADAME DACIER.


                               NOTE 192.

  _Chremes.――Cease your entreaties, Simo; enough, and more than
     enough, have I already shewn my friendship towards you: enough
     have I risked for you._

Monsieur Baron, in his Andrienne, has given a literal translation of
this scene between Simo and Chremes, which, from its serious cast,
appears, perhaps, with more dignity in a poetical dress, than it would
have received from prose. A learned translator of Terence, who was also
an ingenious critic and a successful dramatist, speaks of Baron’s play
in the following terms: “Its extreme elegance, and great superiority to
the _prose_ translation of Dacier, is a strong _proof_ of the superior
excellence and propriety of a poetical translation of this author:”
(Terence.) COLMAN’S _Notes on Terence’s Plays_.

The celebrated writer, who made this remark, has himself employed
_verse_ throughout the whole of his translation of our author’s plays:
and, in the preface to that work, has delivered his opinion very
strongly in favour of the composition of comedy in verse, even in
the most comic scenes: and argues, that as Terence wrote in verse, a
translation of his plays ought to be in verse also.

I must observe that though the comedies of Terence certainly are not
prose, yet they are a species of verse so nearly approaching to prose,
that many eminent critics have denied that they were written with any
regard to measure: they are, therefore, as well calculated, perhaps,
as prose, for comic expression. But we have in English no measure
at all similar to that used by Terence, nor have we, in my opinion,
any measure of verse whatever, in which the most humorous passages
in comedy can be so forcibly expressed as they may be in prose. The
practice of modern dramatists entirely favours this opinion. Our
great Shakspeare, _even in tragedy_, changes from verse to prose,
when he introduces a _comic_ scene, as we see in _Hamlet_, A. 5. S.
1, 4., _Coriolanus_, A. 2. S. 1., _Antony and Cleopatra_, A. 2. S.
6, 7, _Othello_, A. 2. S. 11, A. 3. S. 1. Could the wit of Congreve,
Farquhar, Cibber, Sheridan, and many other eminent English dramatists
(among whom I may number Mr. Colman himself,) have been measured out
into verse without a diminution of the poignancy of its expression? If
the answer to this question be, as I think it must, _in the negative_,
it must surely be decisive against the general introduction of verse
into comedies; a species of writing, in which THE RIDICULOUS, according
to Aristotle, ought to claim a principal share.


                               NOTE 193.

                         _A citizen of Athens._

Athens, the most celebrated city of Greece, was the capital of that
part of Achaia, which, lying towards the sea-shore, (ἀκτὴ,) was called
Attica. It was called _Athens_ after Minerva, (_vide_ Note 94,)
_Cecropia_ after Cecrops, and _Ionia_ after Ion. The circumference
of this city, at the time of its greatest prosperity, is computed at
twenty-three English miles. A much greater space was enclosed within
the walls than was required by the usual inhabitants of the city,
because, in time of war, the country people were compelled to take
refuge within the walls. Aristophanes tells us, (in his Knights,)
that these country people, in time of war, dwelt in huts, resembling
bee-hives in shape, which were erected in the squares, and other open
places.

This accounts for the magnitude of the city, so disproportionate to
the _usual_ number of inhabitants in time of peace, when they did not
amount to a hundred thousand persons. Athens was governed by kings for
the space of 460 years: by magistrates, chosen for life, during about
300 years more: after that time, their rulers were allowed to hold
their offices for ten years only; and, at last, for no longer than
one. The citadel, or upper city, which was called the Ἀκρόπολις, was
ornamented with the most magnificent temples, monuments, and statues.
It contained the temples of Minerva, Neptune, Aglauros, Venus, and
Jupiter. Dicearchus tells us, that the enormous disproportion in the
size of the temples which were magnificent, and of the houses which
were low and small, considerably diminished the beauty of the city.
Athens was sometimes called the academy of the Roman empire, and the
fountain of learning: learned men, and philosophers of different
countries, resorted to this celebrated city in great numbers. The
Romans scarcely considered a liberal education as completed, without
the student received his final polish at Athens. (_Vide Horace Sat._,
B. 2. S. 7. L. 13., _Pliny_, 7. E. 56.) After a career of glory, which
must render the name of Athens immortal, that city sunk beneath the
all-conquering power of the Romans, B. C. 85; and the Athenians never
regained their importance in the scale of nations.

Athens is now called Setines; Dr. Chandler gives it the name of Athini.
It contains 15,000 inhabitants, and is the see of a Greek archbishop.


                               NOTE 194.

           _There is a grave severity in his countenance; and
                       he speaks with boldness._

                  _Tristis severitas_ inest in voltu.

Gravity, among the ancient philosophers, was recommended as one of the
greatest ornaments of old age.

    “Lætitia juvenem, _frons_ decet _tristis senem_.”
                                    SENECA. _Hip._, A. II. S. II.

    Graceful is gaiety in youth: in age
    Gravity most becomes us.

Old men, among the Greeks, sometimes affected the manners and exercises
of youth: a species of weakness which the literary men of their age
reprobated with very poignant ridicule. Theophrastus admirably exposes
people of this sort in his portraiture of those who begin to learn in
old age. (_Vide Theoph. Moral Characters._)


                               NOTE 195.

        _Simo.――Seize this rascal directly, and take him away._

           ――――_Sublimem_ hunc intrò rape quantum potes.

There is a sort of pun here upon the word _sublimem_. Terence alludes
to the prisons where slaves were confined, which, in Athens, were
usually in the loftiest part of the house: so that Simo says, take him
_up_, and also take him _up to the top of the house_: this is the force
of the word _sublimem_ in this passage.

Slaves, in Greece, were treated with great indulgence, and never
chained but for some heinous fault, or when they were brought into
the slave-market, (_vide Plautus’s Captives_, A. 1. S. 2,) and then
they were only worn for a short time. As Simo here commands that Davus
should be put into chains, we are to suppose him to be exasperated to
the utmost, which naturally leads _ad finem epitaseos_, to the end of
the epitasis. The anger of _Simo_, the distress of _Pamphilus_ and
_Glycera_, the imprisonment of _Davus_, and the anxious suspense of
_Charinus_, are what Scaliger (_Poet_, B. 1. C. 9.) calls the _negotia
exagitata_, or the confused and disturbed state of affairs, which the
_catastrophe_ is to reduce _in tranquillitatem non expectatam_, into a
sudden and unexpected tranquillity.


                               NOTE 196.

  _Simo.――I’ll not hear a single word. I’ll ruffle you now, rascal, I
     will._

  _Davus.――For all that, what I say is true._

  _Simo.――For all that, Dromo, take care to keep him bound._

  _S._ Nihil audio. Ego jam te COMMOTUM REDDAM.

  _D._ Tamen etsi hoc verum est.

  _S._ Tamen. Cura adservandum vinctum.

The word _commotum_ seems to have been imperfectly understood by
Donatus and some other commentators, who have interpreted it as
signifying motion; and would translate the line thus, “I’ll make you
caper! I’ll make you dance to some tune, sirrah!” which is extremely
foreign to its true meaning. Simo uses the phrase _commotum_ reddam
instead of _commovebo_, for the sake of a pun which Terence makes with
the word _reddam_: which cannot be perfectly preserved in English.

In the seventh scene of the second act, Davus jests upon the empty
larder, and says,

  _Indeed, Sir, I think you are too frugal: it is not well timed._

Simo is quite nettled at this severe joke, which leads him to think his
stratagem discovered, and he cries out _Tace: hold your tongue_; upon
which, Davus, delighted with his success in tormenting his master, says
to himself Commovi, _I’ve ruffled him now._ Simo accidentally overhears
this, and most severely retorts on him his own expression,

     Ego jam te commotum reddam: _I will ruffle you now, rascal;
     I will pay you back your ruffling._

The wit of the sentence depends on the word _reddam_; which allows
of a double construction, as _reddo_ taken separately, signifies _to
pay back_, _to requite_, and _to retaliate_. Simo may, therefore, be
understood to say, that he pays him back the ruffling he received. But,
for this conceit, Simo would have said, Commovebo, which is Davus’s own
word: the sense would then have been clearer, though Terence has the
same expression in another scene in this play,

                        Quos me ludos redderet,

where _reddo_ has the same meaning with facio: which is frequently used
by Plautus, as “_ludos facere_.”


                               NOTE 197.

        _Can he be so weak? so totally regardless of the customs
                       and laws of his country?_

The Athenian laws prohibited a citizen from marrying with a woman who
was not a citizen, _vide_ Note 181. A law was passed by Pericles, that
the children of a marriage in which both parties were not citizens,
should be considered as νοθοι, illegitimate. Pericles himself violated
this law, when he had lost all his legitimate children.

As this is one of the most lively and interesting, so it is also one
of the most instructive scenes of this comedy. How noble are the
sentiments! How engaging the mutual affection of the father and son,
which, in spite of their disagreement, is visible in all they say to
each other. How amiable are the efforts of Chremes to soften the anger
of the justly-offended Simo! He forgets his own disappointment, and
the slight his daughter Philumena had received from Pamphilus, and
endeavours to reconcile him to his father. It is impossible to read
this beautiful scene, without being both affected and improved by the
perusal of it.


                               NOTE 198.

  _Persons are suborned hither too, who say that she is a citizen of
     Athens. You have conquered._

The subornation of false witness was punished in Athens with the
greatest severity. Both the suborner and the perjured were subject to
the same punishment. Upon a third conviction, the offender was branded
with infamy, and forfeited his estate. The Athenians, in general,
were so celebrated for their love of truth, that the words _an Attic
witness_ were used proverbially to designate a witness, whose truth and
honour were proof against corruption.


                               NOTE 199.

  _If you insist on your marriage with Philumena, and compel me to
     subdue my love for Glycera, I will endeavour to comply._

This speech is exceedingly artificial. Pamphilus, _in the hearing of
Chremes, the father of his intended wife_, confesses his love for
another; and owns, that it must cost him a severe struggle to conquer
his affection for her, and resolve to wed Philumena. The knowledge
of this was sufficient to deter Chremes from giving his daughter to
Pamphilus.


                               NOTE 200.

  _I implore only, that you will cease to accuse me of suborning
     hither this old man. Suffer me to bring him before you, that I
     may clear myself from this degrading suspicion._

“Pamphilus had all the reason in the world to endeavour to bring Simo
and Crito together, that so he might clear himself of such a scandal as
his father very reasonably imputed to him. And this was all the young
gentleman’s design, but the poet had a far greater, which the audience
could not so much as suspect: namely, the discovery of Glycerie, which
comes in very naturally.”――ECHARD.


                               NOTE 201.

  _Chremes.――Simo, if you knew this stranger as well as I do, you
     would think better of him; he is a worthy man._

M. Baron in this and the following scenes gives almost a literal
translation from Terence: and the Andrienne concludes exactly in
the same manner with the Latin play; excepting the affranchisement
of Davus, with which M. Baron makes Pamphilus reward his faithful
services.

In the Conscious Lovers, Sir R. Steele changes Crito into Isabella, the
aunt of Indiana, whose real birth is discovered by Sealand’s making
her a visit, to inquire into the nature of her connexion with young
Bevil: the discovery is made by Sealand himself, who recognizes one of
the ornaments worn by his daughter. He gives Indiana willingly to her
preserver Bevil, jun., and Lucinda, who was intended to be the wife of
Bevil, was, upon his marriage with her sister Indiana, given to Myrtle,
the lover whom she herself had always favoured.


                               NOTE 202.

                         _Simo.――A sycophant._

The word sycophant was an epithet of peculiar opprobrium at Athens, and
of very singular derivation. In a season of great scarcity, a law was
passed at Athens, prohibiting the exportation of figs; and afterwards,
through neglect, remained unrepealed. Hence, those malicious men who
informed against those who transgressed it, were called συκοφάνται, and
this appellation was afterwards always applied to false witnesses, and
busy and malicious informers.


                               NOTE 203.

  _Crito.――Chrysis’ father, who received him, was my relation, and,
     at his house, I’ve heard that shipwrecked stranger say, that he
     was an Athenian: he died in Andros._

            ――――Tum is mihi cognatus fuit,
    Qui eum _recepit_: ibi ego audivi ex illo sese esse Atticum:
    Is ibi mortuus est.

The word _recepit_, in this sentence, alludes to the Roman customs
respecting foreigners. Crito had just before used the term _applicat_,
_he applied for assistance_. When an exile or foreigner arrived at
Rome, he was said _applicare_, _to apply_ to some person to become
his patron; as every stranger at Rome was compelled to obtain the
protection of one of the citizens, who succeeded to his effects at his
death: jure applicationis. When a Roman citizen agreed to accept of a
foreigner as his client, he was said _recipere_, to receive him.


                               NOTE 204.

  _Crito.――At least I think it was Phania: one thing I am sure of, he
     said he was from Rhamnus._

Rhamnus was a small town in the north of Attica, and only a few miles
to the north-west of Marathon. It seems to have been famous for little
but a magnificent temple of Nemesis, and an exquisite statue of
that goddess, sculptured by Phidias; hence she was sometimes called
Rhamnusia, thus by Ovid,

    ――――Assensit precibus Rhamnusia justis.
                           _Metam._, B. 3. L. 406.

    Rhamnusia heard the lover’s just request.

We must not understand Crito to mean, that Phania was a Rhamnusian,
because we know that he and Chremes both resided in the city of Athens.
Phania probably was prevented, by the confusion of the war, from
obtaining a vessel at the Piræus, or either of the Athenian ports; and
therefore returned to Rhamnus, and embarked for the opposite coast of
Attica. Phania might, therefore, call himself Rhamnusius from Rhamnus,
as being bound from Rhamnus to Smyrna, or any other Asian port. Some,
instead of Rhamnus and Rhamnusius, read Rhamus and Rhamusius.


                               NOTE 205.

                        _Crito.――The very name._

                       _Chremes.――You are right._

_Crito.――Ipsa est. Chremes.――Ea est._ Terence has shewn his usual art
in the arrangement of these two speeches. Upon hearing the true name,
one would have expected that the father would have been the first to
recognize it, but he prudently delays until Crito confirms the truth
of his testimony by agreeing to the name of the long-lost Pasibula.
This is finely imagined by the author, as Chremes might very well be
supposed to suspect that this discovery was a trick of Davus’, (who
might have heard of the loss of this infant daughter,) and taken Crito
for an accomplice in the conceived imposture. Chremes, therefore,
waited to know whether Crito recognised the name of Pasibula, which, if
the story had been false, must have been unknown to him: for the high
character of Pamphilus placed him beyond the reach of suspicion.


                               NOTE 206.

       _Simo.――Chremes, I hope you are convinced how sincerely
                   we all rejoice at this discovery._

    ――――S. _Omnes_ nos gaudere hoc, Chreme,
    Te credo credere.

In many of the old editions of our author, this passage is written
_omneis_ nos gaudere; this variation has a reference to the measure of
the verse. I have seen one edition in which the line is written _omnis_
nos gaudere.


                               NOTE 207.

                  _Pam.――Oh! that is certain._

                  _Simo.――I consent most joyfully._

                  P. Nempe.

                  S. Scilicet.

Some commentators interpret these words from Pamphilus and Simo,
(Nempe and Scilicet,) as a hint to Chremes, respecting the dowry which
they expected to receive with Glycera; and think that the actor who
personates Simo ought to produce a bag of money, that he may “_suit the
action to the word_.” An ingenious critic, speaking of this vague and
fanciful conjecture, observes, as follows: “This, surely, is a precious
refinement, worthy the genius of a true commentator. Madame Dacier,
who entertains a just veneration for Donatus, doubts the authenticity
of the observation, which is ascribed to him.” Certainly, if either of
the words could be wrested to such a meaning, it must be _Nempe_, but
Terence has represented Pamphilus as a character, so noble, generous,
and high-spirited, that we cannot consistently suppose that he would
suffer any mercenary considerations to delay for a single moment his
acceptance of his beloved Glycera, when offered to him by her father.


                               NOTE 208.

           _Chremes.――Pamphilus, my daughter’s portion is ten
                               talents._

                A TABLE OF THE MONEY CURRENT IN GREECE.

                                 equal to   worth (_sterling_)
                                           £.  _s._ _d._   _qrs._

  Lepton                                     0    0    0    0¹¹⁄₁₁₂
  Chalcus                   7     Lepta      0    0    0    0¹¹⁄₁₆
  Dichalcus                 2     Chalci     0    0    0    1⅜
  Hemiobolus                2     Dichalci   0    0    0    2¾
  Obolus                    2     Hemioboli  0    0    1    1½
  Diobolus                  2     Oboli      0    0    2    3
  Triobolus                 3     Oboli      0    0    4    0½
  Hemidrachm                3     Oboli      0    0    4    0½
  Tetrobolus                4     Oboli      0    0    5    2
  Pentobolus                5     Oboli      0    0    6    3½
  Drachm                    6     Oboli      0    0    8
  Didrachm                  2     Drachms    0    1    4    2
  Tetradrachm               4     Drachms    0    2    9    0
  Stater of silver          4     Drachms    0    2    9    0
  Pentadrachm               5     Drachms    0    3    5    1
  Stater of gold           25     Drachms    0   17    2    1
  Stater of Philip         28     Drachms    0   19    3    0
  Stater of Alexander      28     Drachms    0   19    3    0
  Stater of Cyzicus        28     Drachms    0   19    3    0
  Stater of Darius         48     Drachms    1   13    0    0
  Stater of Crœsus         48     Drachms    1   13    0    0
  Homerical talent         75     Drachms    2   11    6    3
  Mina                    100     Drachms    3    8    9    0
  The smaller Ptolemaic
    talent                 20     Minæ      68   15    0    0
  The smaller Antiochan
    talent                 60     Minæ     206    5    0    0
  The Attic talent         60     Minæ     206    5    0    0
  The smaller Euboic
    talent                 60     Minæ     206    5    0    0
  The great Attic talent   80     Minæ     275    0    0    0
  The great Ptolemaic
    talent of Cleopatra    86⅔    Minæ     297   18    4    0
  The Eginean talent      100     Minæ     343   15    0    0
  The Rhodian talent      100     Minæ     343   15    0    0
  The insular talent      120     Minæ     412   10    0    0
  The great Antiochan
    talent                360     Minæ    1237   10    0    0

Those who wish for complete information respecting the ancient and
modern _real money, and money of account_, may be fully satisfied by
consulting the following writers on the subject.

Augustinus, Arbuthnot, Budæus, Boisard, Bircherod, Bonneville,
Bouteroue, Camden, Du Bost, De Asse, Folkes, Fleetwood, Goltzius,
Guthrie, Gerhart, Greaves, Hardouin, Joubert, Krause, Kelly, Lowndes,
Le Blanc, Locke, Lord Liverpool, Marien, Morel, Mezzabarba, Norris,
Occo, Oiselius, Patin, Pinkerton, Ricard, Richebourg, Raper, Simon,
Snelling, Souciet, Seguin, Sirmond, Spanheim, Smith, Tristran, Ursinus,
Vicus, Vaillant.


                               NOTE 209.

           _Simo.――Why do you not immediately give orders for
                       her removal to our house?_

Grecian women, in the situation in which Glycera is represented to have
been, were usually well enough to go abroad in a litter in one day’s
time. This topic is introduced by the poet, in order that Davus may be
spoken of, and delivered from confinement; because his remaining in
prison would have been contrary to the rules of comedy.


                               NOTE 210.

         _Simo.――Because he is now carrying on things of great
               weight, and which touch him more nearly._

            ――――Quia habet aliud _magis_ ex sese et _majus_.

There is a pun in the original, which I have attempted to preserve in
the translation by a circumlocution which I trust on such an occasion
will be deemed allowable. The critics remark, that Terence, by Simo’s
pleasantry, (_vide Note 211_,) intended to shew that he was thoroughly
reconciled to his son. (_Vide Note 92._)


                               NOTE 211.

             _Simo.――He is chained._

             _Pam.――Ah! dear Sir, that was not_ well done.

             _Simo.――I am sure I ordered it to be_ well done.

              S. Vinctus est.

              P. Pater non _rectè_ vinctus est.
                  
              S. _Haud ita jussi._

The jest in this sentence turns on the word _rectè_, which refers to
an Athenian custom of binding criminals’ hands and feet together. Simo
(A. 5. S. 3. _p._ 86.) orders Dromo to bind Davus in the manner before
mentioned: (_atque audin’? quadrupedem constringito_.) Pamphilus says,
non _rectè_ vinctus est: _rectè_ has a double meaning, it signifies
_rightly_, and also _straight_. Simo pretends to take it in the latter
sense, which makes his son’s speech run thus, _He is not bound straight
or upright_: to which Simo replies, _I ordered he should not be bound
straight, but crooked_, or neck and heels. I trust I have made the
force of this pun clear to the unlearned reader: the turn given it in
the English translation is borrowed from Echard.


                               NOTE 212.

  _Pam. (to himself.)――Any one would think, perhaps, that I do not
     believe this to be true, but I know it is because I wish it so.
     I am of opinion, that the lives of the gods are eternal, because
     their pleasures are secure and without end._

“Epicurus observed, that the gods could not but be immortal, since they
are exempt from all kinds of evils, cares, and dangers. But Terence
gives another more refined reason, which more forcibly expresses the
joy of Pamphilus; for he affirms that their immortality springs only
from the durability of their pleasures. This passage is very beautiful.
Pamphilus prefaces what he is going to say by the expression, “_Any
one would think, perhaps_;” this was in a manner necessary to excuse
the freedom which, arising from his joy, makes him assign another
reason for the immortality of the gods than those discovered by the
philosophers, particularly by Epicurus, whose name was still fresh
in the recollection of every person, and whose doctrines were very
generally received and adopted.” MADAME DACIER.


                               NOTE 213.

          _Pam.――There is now no impediment to our marriage._

               Nec mora ulla est, quin jam uxorem ducam.

Pamphilus does not mean by this expression, that he was not married
before, but that now that he has his father’s consent to his union,
he can ducere uxorem, _lead his wife_ publicly to his own house with
the usual ceremonies. The latter phrase _ducere uxorem_, _to marry_,
took its rise from the custom of leading the bride from her father’s
to her husband’s house, in a ceremonial procession. For an account of
the marriages of the Greeks, _vide_ Notes 116, 117, 118. Marriages,
among the Romans, were of three kinds. The first, and most binding,
by which women of rank and consideration were married, was called
_confarreatio_: when the parties were joined by the high priest, in
the presence of a great number of witnesses; and ate a cake made of
meal and salt. The second kind of marriage was _usus_, when the parties
lived together for one year. The third kind was called _coemptio_ or
mutual purchase, in which the bride and bridegroom gave each other a
piece of money, and repeated over a set form of words.


                               NOTE 214.

            _Char. (aside.)――This man is dreaming of what he
                          wishes when awake._

             ――――Num ille somniat
             Ea, quæ vigilans voluit.

The optative influence, (if I may so call it,) on the visions of the
night, here alluded to by Terence, has been described at length by a
celebrated poet, in verses which charm the ear with their melody, and
which command the approbation of the judgment as a faithful portraiture
of nature. Their author wrote verses, which, in _harmony of measure_,
excelled those of all the Roman poets, excepting _Ovid_.

    Omnia quæ sensu volvuntur vota diurno,
    Pectore sopito, reddit amica quies:
    Venator defessa toro cum membra reponit.
    Mens tamen ad sylvas, et sua lustra redit.
    Judicibus lites, aurige somnia currus,
    Vanaque nocturnis meta cavetur equis.
    Furto gaudet amans; permutat navita merces;
    Et vigil elapsas quærit avarus opes.
    Vatem Musarum studium sub nocte silenti
    Artibus assuetis solicitare solet.――CLAUDIAN.


                               NOTE 215.

  _Do you, Davus, go home, and order some of our people hither, to
     remove her to our house. Why do you loiter? go, don’t lose a
     moment._

  _Davus.――I am going. You must not expect their coming out: she will
     be betrothed within_, &c.

The concluding lines of the play from “_You must not expect_,” &c.,
were not originally spoken by the actor who personated Davus, but
formed a sort of epilogue, spoken by a performer, called Cantor; who
also pronounced the word PLAUDITE, with which the _comedies_ and
tragedies of the Romans usually terminated. _Vide Note 217, also
Quintilian_, B. 6. C. 1., _and Cicero and Cato_. Horace expressly tells
us, that the Cantor said the words, vos plaudite.

    “Tu quid ego, et populus mecum desideret audi.
    Si plausoris eges aulæa manentis, et usque
    Sessuri, DONEC CANTOR VOS PLAUDITE DICAT;
    Ætatis cujusque notandi sunt tibi mores,
    Mobilibusque decor naturis dandus et annis.”
                               _Art of Poet._, L. 153.

    Attend, whilst I instruct thee how to please
    Him whose experience guides thee; and the taste
    That rules the present age. If thou wouldst charm
    Our listening ears, until the scene be done;
    And in our seats _detain us till the Cantor
    Requests applause_; give to each stage of life,
    Its attributes: and justly paint the changes,
    Wrought by the hand of Time.


                               NOTE 216.

                _You must not expect their coming out._

Some editors give nearly twenty lines of dialogue between Chremes and
Charinus respecting the marriage of the latter with Philumena, but
those additional lines are spurious. The critics have decided that the
play should terminate with the winding up of Pamphilus’s intrigue,
and that that of Charinus should be left to the imagination: as the
action must languish, if continued after the interest felt for the
principal characters has subsided. Davus here addresses the spectators,
as does Mysis, in A. 1. S. 4. Commentators deem this a blemish in the
composition of the piece. These addresses, in ancient comedies, were
not, I imagine, made to the spectators in general, but to those persons
who stood on the stage during the performance, as the chorus, or as
musicians.


                               NOTE 217.

                    _Farewell, and clap your hands._

“All the ancient copies have the Greek omega, Ω, placed before the
words, ‘_clap your hands_,’ and before ‘_Farewell, and clap your
hands_,’ in other plays: ‘which,’ says Eugraphius, ‘are the words of
the prompter, who, at the end of the play, lifted up the curtain,
and said to the audience, ‘_Farewell, and clap your hands_:’ thus
far Faernus. Leng, at the end of every play, subscribes these words,
Calliopius recensui, and says Calliopius was the prompter; and he
quotes the same words of Eugraphius, which I have here quoted from
Faernus. If Ω stands for any thing more than ‘_Finis_,’ (as some
imagine to be placed there by transcribers to signify the end,) it may
be designed for the first letter Ωδος, which is the Greek for Cantor:
and Horace, in his art of poetry, says,

                    Donec cantor vos plaudite dicat.

“Bentley supposes this Cantor to have been Flaccus the musician,
(_mentioned in the title_,) who, when the play was over, entreated the
favour of the audience: but I should rather think Calliopius to have
been the Cantor, if there was any foundation in antiquity for his name
being at the end of the plays; but the name seems fictitious to me by
the etymology thereof, and it being used in this place. It is indeed
at the end of every play, in all the _three manuscripts in Dr. Mead’s_
collection except Phormio, which is the last play in the prosaic copy;
and the only reason for Calliopius recensui not being there, is,
doubtless, because the play is imperfect, some few verses being out at
the conclusion; ω precedes the farewell in one of the doctor’s copies,
ο in another, and the largest copy has neither. What is independent of
the action of the play, as the last two lines are, may be looked upon
as an epilogue, and was probably spoken by the same person, whether
_player_, _prompter_, or _cantor_.”――COOKE.


                               NOTE 218.

                        _End of the fifth Act._

At the end of a play, the Romans closed their scenes, which, instead of
falling from the roof of the theatre downwards, as among the moderns,
were constructed something similarly to the blinds of a carriage; so
that when the stage was to be exposed to the view of the spectators,
the scene or curtain was let down, and when the piece was concluded, it
was drawn up again. The ancients originally performed their plays in
the open air, with no scenery but that furnished by nature. As they
became more refined, they erected theatres, and introduced scenes,
which they divided into three kinds: 1. tragic, 2. comic, 3. pastoral.
Some very valuable information on this subject may be gathered from M.
Perrault’s Notes on Vitruvius, who has described the various sorts of
ancient scenes. Ovid, in the following verses, describes the original
simplicity of the Roman dramatic entertainments:

   “Tunc neque marmoreo pendebant vela theatro,
    Nec fuerant liquido pulpita rubra croco.
    Illic quas tulerant nemorosa palatia frondes
    Simpliciter positæ SCENA sine arte fuit.”




                                 FINIS.




                                LONDON:
              Printed by W. CLOWES, Northumberland-court.




Transcriber’s Note:

Words may have multiple spelling variations or inconsistent
hyphenation in the text. These have been left unchanged unless
indicated below. Obsolete and alternative spellings were left
unchanged.

Words and phrases in italics are surrounded by underscores, _like
this_. Note 108 has two footnotes that were lettered sequentially and
were moved to the end of the Note. Missing anchor was added to Note
50. Obvious printing errors, such as backwards, upside down, reverse
order, or partially printed letters and punctuation, were corrected.
Final stops missing at the end of sentences and abbreviations were
added. Duplicate letters at line endings or page breaks were removed.
Punctuation and accent marks were normalized.

The following items were changed:
  “his“ to “this,“ line 148
  “praisng” changed to “praising,” line 2856
  “thing” added to text where not legible in the original, Note 114