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.