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523

ACT I.

SCENE I.

DAVUS
alone.
Geta, my worthy friend and countryman,
Came to me yesterday: For some time past
I've ow'd him some small balance of account:
This, he desir'd, I wou'd make up: I have;

524

And brought it with me: For his master's Son,
I am inform'd, has lately got a wife:
So I suppose this sum is scrap'd together
For a Bride-Gift. Alack, how hard it is,
That he, who is already poor, should still
Throw in his mite, to swell the rich man's heap!
What He scarce, ounce by ounce, from short allowance,
Sorely defrauding his own appetite,
Has spar'd, poor wretch! shall She sweep all at once,
Unheeding with what labour it was got.
Geta, moreover, shall be struck for more;
Another gift, when Madam's brought to bed;—
Another too, when Master's Birth-day's kept,
And they initiate him. —All this Mama

525

Shall carry off, the Bantling her excuse.
But is that Geta?

 

Terence here follows the same method, that he persues in some other of his Comedies, of introducing a Protatick Personage, that is, a character foreign to the fable; that, while the story is opened to him, the audience may be informed of as much as is necessary for them to know. But although this scene is introduced merely for the instruction of the spectator, yet the Poet has contrived to season it with a great deal of wit and humour; and indeed that is the highest pitch of dramatick art, to seem to intend nothing but the amusement of the Spectator, and to carry on the plot, while you are actually endeavouring to prepare them for the incidents that are to follow.

Donatus.

I have already more than once delivered my opinion concerning the Protatick Personage. The scene before us is indeed most exquisitely beautiful, and so admirable a model of Narration, that it gives one pain to make the slightest objection to it. But I cannot help thinking that the Trinummus of Plautus, a comedy which has some similarity to this of our author, is opened with more art and vivacity. Davus is rather idly introduced, brings money to no end, and hears the story to no purpose. In the Andrian, Simo has some sort of excuse for opening the mystery of his conduct to Sofia, as he belongs to the family, and it was proposed to make use of his assistance. But Davus has so very little relation to the parties concerned, that we do not know whose servant he is; nor does he take any part in the succeeding events. In the Trinummus, on the contrary, an old gentleman, who thinks the conduct of his friend reprehensible, comes to chide him for his behaviour; and the person accused, in his own vindication, explains himself at once to his angry monitor and to the spectators. This character also is not merely introduced as a Protatick Personage, but acts afterwards in concert with his friend.

Amicus summus meus & popularis Geta. Popularis properly signifies one of the same town; and though not born in it, a person who has been registered with the inhabitants. The very names Davus and Geta plainly prove they could not be countrymen in the strict sense and meaning of that word. Dacier.

Quod ille unciatim, &c. These verses are extremely fine and elaborate, and make an exact climax, almost every word, as Donatus has observed, having a considerable emphasis and energy; the touches are strong, forcible, and natural.—The images of poverty and distress are greatly heightened by the contrast which immediately follows. Dacier.

E demenso suo. Demensum was a measure of corn containing, as is commonly supposed, four bushels, which was delivered out to the slaves monthly, as their allowance. Donatus.

Ferietur alio munere. Here the familiar Latin phrase exactly answers to the English one.

Alluding to the custom of Initiation among the antients, of which there were several kinds. Madam Dacier supposes it to signify their being initiated in the grand mysteries of Ceres, which was commonly done, while they were yet very young. Patrick.

SCENE II.

Enter GETA.
Get.
at entering.]
If a red-hair'd man
Enquire for me—

Dav.
No more! he's here.

Get.
Oh, Davus!
The very man that I was going after.

Dav.
Here, take this! [gives a purse.]
'tis all told: you'll find it right;

The sum I ow'd you.

Get.
Honest, worthy Davus!
I thank you for your punctuality.

Dav.
And well you may, as men and times go now:
Things, by my troth, are come to such a pass,
If a man pays you what he owes, you're much
Beholden to him.—But, pray, why so sad?

Get.
I?—You can scarce imagine in what dread,
What danger I am in.

Dav.
How so?

Get.
I'll tell you,

526

So you will keep it secret.

Dav.
Away, fool!
The man, whose faith in money you have tried,
D'ye fear to trust with words?—And to what end
Shou'd I deceive you?

Get.
List then!

Dav.
I'm all ear.

Get.
D'ye know our old man's elder brother, Chremes?

Dav.
Know him? ay sure.

Get.
You do?—And his son Phædria?

Dav.
As well as I know you.

Get.
It so fell out,
Both the old men were forc'd to journey forth
At the same season. He to Lemnos, our's
Into Cilicia, to an old acquaintance
Who had decoy'd the old curmudgeon thither
By wheedling letters, almost promising
Mountains of gold.

Dav.
To one that had so much,
More than enough already?

Get.
Prithee, peace!
Money's his passion.

Dav.
Oh, would I had been
A man of fortune, I!


527

Get.
At their departure,
The two old gentlemen appointed me
A kind of governor to both their sons.

Dav.
A hard task, Geta!

Get.
Troth, I found it so.
My angry Genius for my sins ordain'd it.
At first I took upon me to oppose:
In short, while I was trusty to th'old man,
The young one made my shoulders answer for it.

Dav.
So I suppose: for what a foolish task
To kick against the pricks!

Get.
I then resolv'd
To give them their own way in ev'ry thing.

Dav.
Ay, then you made your market.

Get.
Our young spark
Play'd no mad pranks at first: But Phædria
Got him immediately a Musick-Girl:
Fond of her to distraction! She belong'd

528

To a most avaricious sordid pimp;
Nor had we aught to give;—th'old gentlemen
Had taken care of That. Nought else remain'd,
Except to feed his eyes, to follow her,
To lead her out to school, and hand her home.
We too, for lack of other business, gave
Our time to Phædria. Opposite the school,
Whither she went to take her lessons, stood
A Barber's shop, wherein most commonly
We waited her return. Hither one day
Came a young man in tears: we were amaz'd,
And ask'd the cause. Never (said he, and wept)
Did I suppose the weight of poverty
A load so sad, so insupportable,
As it appear'd but now.—I saw but now,
Not far from hence, a miserable virgin
Lamenting her dead mother. Near the corpse

529

She sat; nor friend, nor kindred, nor acquaintance,
Except one poor old woman, was there near
To aid the funeral. I pitied her:
Her beauty too was exquisite.—In short
He mov'd us all: And Antipho at once
Cried, “Shall we go and visit her?”—“Why, ay,
“I think so,” said the other, “let us go!”
“Conduct us, if you please.”—We went, arriv'd,
And saw her.—Beautiful she was indeed!
More justly to be reckon'd so, for she
Had no additions to set off her beauty.
Her hair dishevell'd, barefoot, woe-be-gone,
In tears, and miserably clad: that if
The life and soul of beauty had not dwelt
Within her very form, all these together
Must have extinguish'd it.—The spark, possess'd
Already with the Musick-Girl, just cried,
“She's well enough.”—But our young gentleman—

Dav.
Fell, I suppose, in love.

Get.
In love indeed.
But mark the end! Next day, away he goes
To the old woman strait, beseeching her
To let him have the girl:—“Not she indeed!

530

“Nor was it like a gentleman, she said,
“For him to think on't: She's a citizen,
“An honest girl, and born of honest parents:—
“If he wou'd marry her indeed, by law
“He might do that; on no account, aught else.”
—Our spark, distracted, knew not what to do:
At once he long'd to marry her, at once
Dreaded his absent father.

Dav.
Wou'd not He,
Had he return'd, have giv'n consent?

Get.
To wed
A girl of neither family nor fortune?
Never.

Dav.
What then?

Get.
What then! There is a Parasite,
One Phormio, a bold enterprising fellow,
Who—all the Gods confound him!—

Dav.
What did He?

Get.
Gave us the following counsel.—“There's a law
“That Orphan Girls shou'd wed their next of kin,
“Which law obliges too their next of kin
“To marry them.—I'll say, that you're her kinsman,
“And sue a writ against you. I'll pretend
“To be her father's friend, and bring the cause

531

“Before the judges. Who her father was,
“Her mother who, and how she's your relation,
“All this sham evidence I'll forge; by which
“The cause will turn entirely in my favour.
“You shall disprove no tittle of the charge;
“So I succeed.—Your father will return;
“Prosecute Me;—what then?—The Girl's our own.”

Dav.
A pleasant piece of impudence!

Get.
It pleas'd
Our spark at least: He put it into practice;
Came into court; and he was cast; and married.

Dav.
How say you?

Get.
Just as you have heard.

Dav.
Oh Geta,
What will become of you?

Get.
I don't know, faith.
But only this I know, whate'er chance brings,
I'll patiently endure.

Dav.
Why, that's well said,
And like a man.

Get.
All my dependance is
Upon myself.

Dav.
And that's the best.

Get.
I might

532

Beg one indeed to intercede for me,
Who may plead thus—“Nay, pardon him this once!
“But if he fails again, I've not a word
“To say for him.”—And well if he don't add,
“When I go hence, e'en hang him!”

Dav.
What of him,
Gentleman-Usher to the Musick-Girl?
How goes He on?

Get.
So, so!

Dav.
He has not much
To give perhaps.

Get.
Just nothing, but mere hope.

Dav.
His father too, is he returned?

Get.
Not yet.

Dav.
And your old man, when do you look for Him?

Get.
I don't know certainly: but I have heard
That there's a letter from him come to port,
Which I am going for.

Dav.
Wou'd you aught else
With me, good Geta?


533

Get.
Nothing, but Farewell!
[Exit Davus.
Ho, Boy! what, nobody at home! [Enter Boy.]
Take this,

And give it Dorcium.

[Gives the Purse, and Exit.
 

The Antients had a persuasion, that each man had a Genius or Guardian Deity, and that when he fell into any misfortune, or was guilty of any crime, it was because his Genius had abandoned him. Patrick.

Adversum stimulum calces. To kick against the pricks.—Originally an old Greek proverb, Προς τα κεντρα λακτιζειν.προς κεντρα κωλον εκτενειν.—So our Saviour (Acts, chap. ix. v. 5.) it is hard for thee to kick against the pricks. Westerhovius.

Scîsti uti foro. An allusion to merchants, who fix the price of commodities in proportion to the demand there is for them. Donatus.

Musick-schools, where the Slave-merchants sent their Girls to attain accomplishments, which might enhance their price. Cooke.

Barbers shops in Athens and Rome were places of publick resort for conversation, much of the nature of our Coffee-houses. Patrick.

In Apollodorus this young man is no other than the Barber himself, who was just returned from cutting off the young woman's hair, which was one of the usual ceremonies of mourning among the Greeks. This circumstance Terence has judiciously altered, that he might not shock the Roman spectators with manners so very foreign to their own. Donatus.

The Poet has managed this part of the Narration with so much address, that we are not so much affected at the death of the mother, as at the distress of the beautiful virgin: especially as we find in the catastrophe, that the death of this woman gives the poet a better opportunity of establishing the general happiness. Donatus.

Quid Pædagogus ille. The servants who attended children to and from school were by the Greeks called Pedagogues. Socrates was satirically called the Pedagogue of Alcibiades: and Davus humourously applies this name to Phædria, who, as Geta had told him, attended the Girl to and from the Musick-school. Dacier.

Da hoc Dorcio.—Dorcio from Dorcium, the name of a woman, as Planesium, Glycerium. Donatus.

SCENE III.

ANTIPHO, PHÆDRIA.
Ant.
Is it come to this?
My father, Phædria!—my best friend!—That I
Shou'd tremble, when I think of his return!
When, had I not been inconsiderate,
I, as 'tis meet, might have expected him.

Phæ.
What now?

Ant.
Is that a question? And from You,
Who know th'atrocious fault I have committed?
Oh, that it ne'er had enter'd Phormio's mind
To give such counsel! nor to urge me on,
In the extravagance of blind desire,
To this rash act, the source of my misfortunes!
I shou'd not have possest her: that indeed
Had made me wretched some few days.—But then

534

This constant anguish had not torn my mind.—

Phæ.
I hear you.

Ant.
—while each moment I expect
His coming to divorce me.

Phæ.
Other men,
For lack of what they love, are miserable;
Abundance is your grievance. You're too rich
A lover, Antipho! For your condition
Is to be wish'd and pray'd for. Now, by heaven,
Might I, so long as you have done, enjoy
My love, it were bought cheaply with my life.
How hard my lot, unsatisfied, unblest!
How happy your's, in full possession!—One
Of lib'ral birth, ingenuous disposition,
And honest fame, without expence, you've got:
The wife, whom you desir'd!—in all things blest,
But want the disposition to believe so.
Had you, like me, a scoundrel-pimp to deal with,
Then you'd perceive—But sure 'tis in our nature,
Never to be contented.

Ant.
Now to Me,
Phædria, 'tis You appear the happy man.
Still quite at large, free to consider still,
To keep, persue, or quit her: I, alas,

535

Have so entangled and perplext myself,
That I can neither keep, nor let her go.
—What now? isn't that our Geta, whom I see
Running this way?—'Tis he himself—Ah me!
How do I fear what news he brings!

SCENE IV.

Enter at a distance GETA running.
Get.
Confusion!
A quick thought, Geta, or you're quite undone,
So many evils take you unprepar'd;
Which I know neither how to shun, nor how
To extricate myself: for this bold stroke
Of our's can't long be hid.

Ant.
What's this confusion?

Get.
Then I have scarce a moment's time to think.
My master is arriv'd.

Ant.
What mischief's that?

Get.
Who, when he shall have heard it, by what art
Shall I appease his anger?—Shall I speak?
'Twill irritate him.—Hold my peace?—enrage him.—

536

Defend myself?—Impossible! —Oh, wretch!
Now for myself in pain, now Antipho
Distracts my mind.—But him I pity most;
For him I fear; 'tis he retains me here:
For, were it not for him, I'd soon provide
For my own safety—ay, and be reveng'd
On the old greybeard—carry something off,
And shew my master a light pair of heels.

Ant.
What scheme to rob and run away is this?

Get.
But where shall I find Antipho? where seek him?

Phæ.
He mentions you.

Ant.
I know not what, but doubt
That he's the messenger of some ill news.

Phæ.
Have you your wits?

Get.
I'll home: he's chiefly there.

Phæ.
Let's call him back!

Ant.
Holo, you! stop!

Get.
Heyday!
Authority enough, be who you will.

Ant.
Geta!

Get.
turning.]
The very man I wish'd to meet!


537

Ant.
Tell us, what news?—in one word, if you can.

Get.
I'll do it.

Ant.
Speak!

Get.
This moment at the Port—

Ant.
My father?

Get.
Even so.

Ant.
Undone!

Phæ.
Heyday!

Ant.
What shall I do?

Phæ.
What say you?

[to Geta.
Get.
That I've seen
His father, Sir,—your Uncle.

Ant.
How shall I,
Wretch that I am! oppose this sudden evil?
Shou'd I be so unhappy, to be torn
From thee, my Phanium, life's not worth my care.

Get.
Since that's the case then, Antipho, you ought
To be the more upon your guard.

Ant.
Alas!
I'm not myself.

Get.
But now you shou'd be most so, Antipho.
For if your father shou'd discern your fear,
He'll think you conscious of a fault.

Phæ.
That's true.


538

Ant.
I cannot help it, nor seem otherwise.

Get.
How wou'd you manage in worse difficulties?

Ant.
Since I'm not equal to bear this, to those
I shou'd be more unequal.

Get.
This is nothing.
Pooh, Phædria, let him go! why waste our time?
I will be gone.

[going.
Phæ.
And I.

[going.
Ant.
Nay, prithee, stay!
What if I shou'd dissemble?—Will that do?

[endeavouring to assume another air.
Get.
Ridiculous!

Ant.
Nay, look at me! Will That
Suffice?

Get.
Not it.

Ant.
Or this?

Get.
Almost.

Ant.
Or this?

Get.
Ay! now you've hit it. Do but stick to that;
Answer him boldly; give him hit for dash,
Nor let him bear you down with angry words.

Ant.
I understand you.

Get.
“Forc'd”—“against your will”—
“By law”—“by sentence of the court”—d'ye take me?

539

—But what old gentleman is that, I see
At t'other end o'th'street?

Ant.
'Tis he himself.
I dare not face him.

[going.
Get.
Ah, what is't you do?
Where d'ye run, Antipho! Stay, stay, I say.

Ant.
I know myself and my offence too well:
To you then I commend my life and love.

[Exit.
 

Purgem me? Laterem lavem.—Laterem lavare, “to wash a brick,” was a proverb, signifying to labour in vain.

SCENE V.

Manent PHÆDRIA, and GETA.
Phæ.
Geta, what now?

Get.
You shall be roundly chid;
I soundly drubb'd; or I am much deceiv'd.
—But what e'en now we counsell'd Antipho,
It now behoves ourselves to practise, Phædria.

Phæ.
Talk not of what behoves, but say at once
What you wou'd have me do.

Get.
Do you remember
The plea, whereon you both agreed to rest,
At your first vent'ring on this enterprize?
“That Phormio's suit was just, sure, equitable,
“Not to be controverted.”—


540

Phæ.
I remember.

Get.
Now then that plea! or, if it's possible,
One better or more plausible.

Phæ.
I'll do't.

Get.
Do you attack him first! I'll lie in ambush,
To re-inforce you, if you give ground.

Phæ.
Well.

[they retire.

SCENE VI.

Enter DEMIPHO at another part of the Stage.
Dem.
How's this? A wife! what, Antipho! and ne'er
Ask my consent?—nor my authority—
Or, grant we pass authority, not dread
My wrath at least?—To have no sense of shame?
—Oh, impudence!—Oh, Geta, rare adviser!

Get.
Geta at last.

Dem.
What they will say to me,
Or what excuse they will devise, I wonder.

Get.
Oh, we have settled that already: Think
Of something else.

Dem.
Will he say this to me,
—“Against my will I did it”—Forc'd by law”—
—I hear you: I confess it.


541

Get.
Very well.

Dem.
But conscious of the fraud, without a word
In answer or defence, to yield the cause
Tamely to your opponents—did the law
Force you to that too?

Phæ.
That's home.

Get.
Give me leave!
I'll manage it.

Dem.
I know not what to do:
This stroke has come so unawares upon me,
Beyond all expectation, past belief.
—I'm so enrag'd, I can't compose my mind
To think upon it.—Wherefore ev'ry man,
When his affairs go on most swimmingly,
Ev'n then it most behoves to arm himself

542

Against the coming storm: loss, danger, exile,
Returning ever let him look to meet;
His son in fault, wife dead, or daughter sick—
All common accidents, and may have happen'd;
That nothing shou'd seem new or strange. But if
Aught has fall'n out beyond his hopes, all that
Let him account clear gain.

Get.
Oh, Phædria,
'Tis wonderful, how much a wiser man
I am than my old master. My misfortunes
I have consider'd well.—At his return
Doom'd to grind ever in the mill, beat, chain'd,
Or set to labour in the fields; of these
Nothing will happen new. If aught falls out
Beyond my hopes, all that I'll count clear gain.
—But why delay t'accost th'old gentleman,
And speak him fair at first?

[Phædria goes forward.
Dem.
Methinks I see
My nephew Phædria.

Phæ.
My good Uncle, welcome!

Dem.
Your servant!—But where's Antipho?

Phæ.
I'm glad
To see you safe—

Dem.
Well, well!—But answer me.


543

Phæ.
He's well: hard by.—But have affairs turn'd out
According to your wishes?

Dem.
Wou'd they had!

Phæ.
Why, what's the matter?

Dem.
What's the matter, Phædria?
You've clapp'd up a fine marriage in my absence.

Phæ.
What! are you angry with him about That?

Get.
Well counterfeited!

Dem.
Shou'd I not be angry?
Let me but set eyes on him, he shall know
That his offences have converted me
From a mild father to a most severe one.

Phæ.
He has done nothing, Uncle, to offend you.

Dem.
See, all alike! the whole gang hangs together:
Know one, and you know all.

Phæ.
Nay, 'tis not so.

Dem.
One does a fault, the other's hard at hand
To bear him out: when t'other slips, he's ready:
Each in their turn!

Get.
I'faith th'old gentleman
Has blunder'd on their humours to a hair.

Dem.
If 'twere not so, you'd not defend him, Phædria.

Phæ.
If, Uncle, Antipho has done a wrong
Or to his interest, or reputation,
I am content he suffer, as he may:

544

But if another, with malicious fraud,
Has laid a snare for inexperienced youth,
And triumph'd o'er it; can you lay the blame
On us, or on the judges, who oft take
Thro' envy from the rich, or from compassion
Add to the poor?

Get.
Unless I knew the cause,
I shou'd imagine this was truth he spoke.

Dem.
What judge can know the merits on your side,
When you put in no plea; as he has done?

Phæ.
He has behav'd like an ingenuous youth.
When he came into court, he wanted pow'r
To utter what he had prepar'd, so much
He was abash'd by fear and modesty.

Get.
Oh brave!—But why, without more loss of time,
Don't I accost th'old man? [going up.]
My master, welcome!

I am rejoic'd to see you safe return'd.

Dem.
What! my good master Governor! your slave!
The prop! the pillar of our family!
To whom, at my departure hence, I gave
My son in charge.

Get.
I've heard you for some time
Accuse us all quite undeservedly,
And me, of all, most undeservedly.

545

For what cou'd I have done in this affair?
A slave the laws will not allow to plead;
Nor can he be an evidence.

Dem.
I grant it.
Nay more—the boy was bashful—I allow it.
—You but a slave.—But if she had been prov'd
Ever so plainly a relation, why
Needed he marry her? and why not rather
Give her, according to the law, a portion,
And let her seek some other for a husband?
Why did he rather bring a beggar home?

Get.
'Twas not the thought, but money that was wanting.

Dem.
He might have borrow'd it.

Get.
Have borrow'd it!
Easily said.

Dem.
If not to be had else,
On interest.

Get.
Nay, now indeed you've hit it.
Who wou'd advance him money in your life?

Dem.
Well, well, it shall not, and it cannot be,

546

That I shou'd suffer her to live with him
As wife a single day. There is no cause.
—Wou'd I might see that fellow, or cou'd tell
Where he resides!

Get.
What, Phormio!

Dem.
The girl's Patron.

Get.
He shall be with you strait.

Dem.
Where's Antipho?

Phæ.
Abroad.

Dem.
Go, Phædria; find him, bring him here.

Phæ.
I'll go directly.

[Exit.
Get.
aside.]
Ay, to Pamphila.

[Exit.
 

Quamobrem omnes, &c. This passage is quoted by Tully in the third book of his Tusculan Questions, and the maxim contained in these lines was a favourite principle among the Stoicks. But I cannot help thinking that the introduction of it in this place has commonly been considered too seriously; and I have scarce any doubt but that Terence intended it as a stroke of character. Commentators, in general, are never so happy as when they light upon a sentence in a classick author, which they can extol as a lesson of sound morality: but in dramatick writings we are not merely to confine ourselves to the consideration of what is said, but who says it. Donatus, in his preface to this play, says “that it is founded on passions almost too high for Comedy; but that the Poet contrives to temper every circumstance by his art.” In the present instance, the old gentleman is indeed in a violent passion, but his anger is so managed throughout the scene, that it becomes truly comick: And Donatus very properly refers us to a similar passage in the Brothers, where Demea in like manner delivers moral precepts, which are in like manner turned into ridicule, and archly parodied by the impudent slave.

By this proposal Terence artfully prepares us for the imposition of Phormio, who extorts money from the old gentleman on this very foundation. Donatus.

Alexander ab Alexandro, Genial. Dier. L. I. takes notice of an antient decree of Senate, derived to the Romans from a law of Solon, in which, in order to provide against young men borrowing money during the life of their fathers, it was ordained, that in case of non-payment, the lender should have no remedy at law. The mischief meant to be guarded against by this decree was, that left the sons of rich men, being involved in debt, should be tempted to extricate themselves by dishonourable means, or even to hasten the death of a parent. Westerhovius. Patrick.

Istum Patronum mulieris. They who undertook to carry on a law-suit for another were called Patroni, Patrons.

SCENE VII.

DEMIPHO
alone.
I'll home, and thank the Gods for my return;
Thence to the Forum, and convene some friends,
Who may be present at this interview,
That Phormio may not take me unprepar'd.

[Exit.
 

It was the custom for those returning from a voyage or journey to give thanks in a formal manner to the Gods, even before they saw their wives or friends. And every citizen had at home Houshold Gods (usually called Penates, Demestici, or Lares) which he and his family worshipped in private, and considered as the particular guardians of the family. Westerhovius.