 | The Step-Mother |  |
SCENE II.
Enter PHIDIPPUS.Phid.
Soon as my wife perceiv'd
That I was going to my daughter's chamber,
She stands.—Why, how now, Myrrhina?
Holo, I say!
[She affects not to see him.
Myrr.
D'ye call me, husband?
Phid.
Husband!
Am I your husband? am I ev'n a man?
For had you thought me to be either, Woman,
You would not dare to play upon me thus.
Myrr.
How!
Phid.
How?—My daughter has been brought to bed.
—Ha! are you dumb?—by whom?
Myrr.
Is that a question
For you, who are her father, to demand?
Alas, by whom d'ye think, unless her husband?
Phid.
So I believe: nor is it for a father
To suppose otherwise: But yet I wonder,
Especially as she has been deliver'd
At her full time, and all is as it shou'd be.
What! Is there such perverseness in your nature,
As rather to desire the infant's death,
Than that his birth shou'd knit the bond of friendship
Closer betwixt us; rather than my daughter,
Against your liking, shou'd remain the wife
Of Pamphilus?—I thought all this
Had been Their fault, while You're alone to blame.
Myrr.
How wretched am I!
Phid.
Would to heav'n you were!
—But now I recollect your conversation
When first we made this match, you then declar'd
You'd not endure she should remain the wife
Of Pamphilus, who follow'd mistresses,
And pass'd the nights abroad.
Myrr.
I had much rather
He should think any reason, than the true one.
[aside.
Phid.
I knew he kept a mistress; knew it long
Ere you did, Myrrhina; but I could never
Think that offence so grievous in a youth,
Seeing 'tis natural to them all: and soon
The time shall come, when he'll stand self-reprov'd.
Could take no rest, till you had brought away
Your daughter, and annull'd the match, I made:
There's not a circumstance, but loudly speaks
Your evil disposition to the marriage.
Myrr.
D'ye think me then so obstinate, that I,
Who am her mother, shou'd betray this spirit,
Granting the match were of advantage to us?
Phid.
Is it for you then to foresee, or judge
What's of advantage to us? You perhaps
Have heard from some officious busy-body,
That they have seen him going to his mistress,
Or coming from her house: And what of that,
So it were done discreetly, and but seldom?
Were it not better that we should dissemble
Our knowledge of it, than pry into things,
Which to appear to know wou'd make him hate us?
For could he tear her from his heart at once,
To whom he'd been so many years attach'd,
I should not think he were a man, or likely
To prove a constant husband to my daughter.
Myrr.
No more of Pamphilus, or my offence;
Since you will have it so!—Go, find him out;
Confer with him alone, and fairly ask him,
If he avows his inclination to't,
Restore her; but if he refuses it,
Allow, I've ta'en good counsel for my child.
Phid.
Grant, he shou'd prove repugnant to the match,
Grant, you perceiv'd this in him, Myrrhina;
Was not I present? had not I a right
To be consulted in't?—It makes me mad,
That you should dare to act without my order:
And I forbid you to remove the Child
Out of this house.—But what a fool am I,
Enjoining her obedience to my orders!
I'll in, and charge the servants, not to suffer
The infant to be carried forth.
[Exit.
Uxor ubi me ad filiam ire sensit, se duxit foras. Madam Dacier joins this scene to the third act, and assigns this verse as her reason for it. I have chosen rather to follow the old division, which seems to me to be the right. This scene brings on a new part of the plot; which occupies the rest of this fourth act. The continuity of the scenes being broken at the departure of Myrrhina proves nothing, or too much: for Terence often takes that liberty in the middle of an act, and the scene is certainly left vacant by Laches. Besides, Myrrhina does not, as Madam Dacier asserts, leave the house immediately on the entrance of Phidippus, in order to avoid him; but is frightened out of doors by his running to Philumena's chamber on hearing the cries of the Child. This, it is most natural to suppose, happened some time after he had returned home, and all these circumstances are with much greater propriety made to fill the interval between the two acts, than huddled into the compass of six lines. Terence, indeed, sometimes runs into that very absurdity; but I think we need not industriously force him out of his way on purpose to make him guilty of it.
| The Step-Mother | |