University of Virginia Library

Search this document 

49

ACT III.

SCENE I.

SIMO, DAVUS, coming out of Simo's House.—MYSIS, LESBIA, going towards the House of Glycerium.
Mysis.
Ay, marry, 'tis as you say, Lesbia:
Women scarce ever find a constant man.

Simo.
The Andrian's maid-servant! Is't not?

Davus.
Ay.

Mysis.
But Pamphilus—

Simo.
What says she?

[overhearing.
Mysis.
Has been true.

Simo.
How's that?

[overhearing.
Davus.
Wou'd he were deaf, or she were dumb!

[aside.
Mysis.
For the child, Boy or Girl, he has resolv'd
To educate.

Simo.
O Jupiter! what's this
I hear? If this be true, I'm lost indeed.

Lesbia.
A good young Gentleman!

Mysis.
Oh, very good.
But in, in, lest you make her wait.

Lesbia.
I follow.

[Exeunt Mysis and Lesbia.

50

SCENE II.

Manent SIMO, DAVUS.
Davus.
Unfortunate! What remedy! [aside.


Simo.
How's this? [to himself.

And can he be so mad? What! educate
A Harlot's child!—Ah, now I know their drift:
Fool that I was, scarce smelt it out at last.

Davus
listening.]
What's this he says he has smelt out?

Simo.
Imprimis,
[to himself.
'Tis this Rogue's trick upon me. All a sham:
A counterfeit deliv'ry, and mock labour,
Devis'd to frighten Chremes from the match.

Glycerium
within.]
Juno Lucina, save me! help, I pray thee.


51

Simo.
Hey day! Already? Oh ridiculous!
Soon as she heard that I was at the Door
She hastens to cry out: Your incidents
Are ill-tim'd, Davus.

Davus.
Mine, Sir?

Simo.
Are your players
Unmindful of their Cues, and want a Prompter?

Davus.
I do not comprehend you.

Simo
apart.]
If this Knave

52

Had, in the real Nuptial of my Son,
Come thus upon me unprepar'd, what sport,
What scorn he'd have expos'd me to? But now
At his own peril be it. I'm secure.

 

Juno Lucina was the Goddess supposed to preside over child-birth.

“In their Comedies, the Romans generally borrowed their plots from the Greek Poets; and theirs was commonly a little Girl stolen or wandered from her Parents, brought back unknown to the city, there got with child by some lewd young fellow; who, by the help of his servant, cheats his father: and when her time comes, to cry Juno Lucina, fer opem! one or other sees a little Box or Cabinet, which was carried away with her, and so discovers her to her friends; if some God do not prevent it, by coming down in a Machine, and taking the thanks of it to himself.

“By the Plot you may guess much of the characters of the Persons. An old father, who would willingly, before he dies, see his Son well married; a debauched Son, kind in his nature to his mistress, but miserably in want of money; a servant or slave, who has so much wit as to strike in with him, and help to dupe his father; a Braggadochio Captain; a Parasite; and a Lady of Pleasure.

“As for the poor honest maid, on whom the Story is built, and who ought to be one the principal Actors in the Play, she is commonly a Mute in it: She has the breeding of the old Elizabeth way, which was for maids to be seen, and not to be heard; and it is enough you know she is willing to be married when the fifth Act requires it.”

Dryden's Essay of Dramatick Poesie.

It must be remembered that Dryden's Essay is written in the form of a Dialogue, and therefore the above Extract is not to be supposed to be absolutely the very opinion of the writer, but receives a good deal of its high colouring from the character of the Speaker. It is true, indeed, that this crying out of a woman in labour behind the Scenes, which Donatus gravely remarks is the only way in which the Severity of the Comœdiæ Palliata would allow a young gentlewoman to be introduced, is perhaps the most exceptionable circumstance of all the antient Drama: and if the modern Theatre has any transcendent advantage over the antient, it is in the frequent and successful introduction of female personages.

The antients were so little sensible of the impropriety or indecorum of such an incident, that it is (as Dryden has observed) introduced into many of their plays, wherein the Lady cries out in the same, or very similar, words with Glycerium. I do not, however, remember any play where the Lady in the Straw produces so many pleasant circumstances, as in the play before us; nor is there, I think, any one of those circumstances, except the crying out, which might not be represented on our Stage. This act, and the next, which are entirely built on the delivery of Glycerium, are the most humourous of the five; and yet these very acts seem to have been the most obnoxious to the delicacy of the modern imitators of our Author. Sir Richard Steele, indeed, departed in many other circumstances from the Fable of Terence, so that it is no wonder he took the advantage of bringing our Glycerium on the Stage in the person of Indiana: but Baron, who has wrought his whole piece on the Ground of Terence, thought it necessary to new-mould these two Acts, and has introduced Glycerium merely to fill up the chasm created by the omission of the other incidents. Baron, I doubt not, judged right in thinking it unsafe to hazard them on the French Stage: but it must be obvious to every reader that the deadest and most insipid parts of Baron's play are those scenes in which he deviates from Terence.

Non sat commode divisa sunt temporibus tibi, Dave, hæc. A metaphor taken from the Theatre. Dacier.

SCENE III.

Re-enter LESBIA.—ARCHYLLIS appears at the door.
Lesbia
to Arch. within.]
As yet, Archyllis, all the symptoms seem
As good as might be wish'd in her condition:
First, let her make ablution: after that,
Drink what I've order'd her, and just so much:
And presently I will be here again. [coming forward.

Now, by this good day, Master Pamphilus
Has got a chopping Boy: Heav'n grant it live!
For he's a worthy Gentleman, and scorn'd
To do a wrong to this young innocent.

[Exit.

SCENE IV.

Simo.
This too, where's he that knows you wou'd not swear
Was your contrivance?

Davus.
My Contrivance! what, Sir?


53

Simo.
While in the House, forsooth, the midwife gave
No orders for the Lady in the Straw:
But having issued forth into the Street,
Bawls out most lustily to those within.
—Oh Davus, am I then so much your Scorn?
Seem I so proper to be play'd upon,
With such a shallow, barefac'd, imposition?
You might at least, in reverence, have us'd
Some Spice of Art, wer't only to pretend
You fear'd my anger, shou'd I find you out.

Davus.
I'faith now he deceives himself, not I.

[aside.
Simo.
Did not I give you warning? threaten too,
In case you play'd me false? But all in vain:
For what car'd you?—What! think you I believe
This story of a child by Pamphilus?

Davus.
I see his error: Now I know my game.

[aside.
Simo.
Why don't you answer?

Davus.
What! you don't believe it?
As if you had not been inform'd of this?

[archly.
Simo.
I been inform'd?

Davus.
What then you found it out?

[archly.
Simo.
D'ye laugh at me?

Davus.
You must have been inform'd:
Or whence this shrewd suspicion?


54

Simo.
Whence! from you:
Because I know you.

Davus.
Meaning, this was done
By my Advice.

Simo.
Beyond all doubt: I know it:

Davus.
You do not know me, Simo.—

Simo.
I not know you?

Davus.
For if I do but speak, immediately
You think yourself impos'd on.—

Simo.
Falsely, hey?

Davus.
So that I dare not ope my lips before you.

Simo.
All that I know is this; that nobody
Has been deliver'd here.

Davus.
You've found it out?
Yet by and bye they'll bring the bantling here,
And lay it at our door. Remember, Sir,
I give you warning that will be the case;
That you may stand prepar'd, nor after say,
'Twas done by Davus's advice, his tricks!
I wou'd fain cure your ill opinion of me.

Simo.
But how d'ye know?

Davus.
I've heard so, and believe so.
Besides a thousand things concur to lead
To this conjecture. In the first place, she

55

Profess'd herself with child by Pamphilus:
That proves a falsehood. Now that she perceives
A nuptial preparation at our house,
A maid's dispatch'd immediately to bring
A midwife to her, and withal a child :
You too they will contrive shall see the child,
Or else the Wedding must proceed.

Simo.
How's this?
Having discover'd such a plot on foot,
Why did you not directly tell my Son?

Davus.
Who then has drawn him from her but myself?
For we all know how much he doated on her:
But now he wishes for a Wife. In fine,
Leave that affair to me; and you mean while
Persue, as you've begun, the Nuptials; which
The Gods, I hope, will prosper!

Simo.
Get you in.
Wait for me there, and see that you prepare
What's requisite.
[Exit Davus.
He has not wrought upon me
To yield implicit credit to his tale,
Nor do I know if all he said be true.

56

But, true or false, it matters not: to me
My Son's own promise is the main concern.
Now to meet Chremes, and to beg his daughter
In marriage with my Son: If I succeed,
What can I rather wish, than to behold
Their marriage-rites to-day? For since my Son
Has given me his word, I've not a doubt,
Should he refuse, but I may force him to it:
And to my wishes see where Chremes comes.

 

This was a piece of roguery very common in Greece, where they often deceived the old men by suppositious children. Dacier.

SCENE V.

Enter CHREMES .
Simo.
Chreme's, Good day!

Chremes.
The very man I look'd for.

Simo.
And I for you.

Chremes.
Well met.—Some persons came
To tell me you inform'd them, that my daughter
Was to be married to your son to-day:
And therefore came I here, and fain wou'd know
Whether 'tis you or they have lost their wits.


57

Simo.
A moment's hearing; you shall be inform'd,
What I request, and what you wish to know.

Chremes.
I hear: what would you? speak.

Simo.
Now by the Gods;
Now by our friendship, Chremes, which, begun
In infancy, has still encreas'd with age;
Now by your only daughter, and my son,
Whose preservation wholly rests on you;
Let me intreat this boon: and let the match
Which should have been, still be.

Chremes.
Why, why intreat?
Knowing you ought not to beseech this of me.
Think you, that I am other than I was,
When first I gave my promise? If the match
Be good for both, e'en call them forth to wed.
But if their union promises more harm
Than good to both, You also, I beseech you,
Consult our common interest, as if
You were her father, Pamphilus my son.

Simo.
E'en in that spirit, I desire it, Chremes,
Intreat it may be done; nor would intreat,
But that occasion urges.

Chremes.
What occasion?

Simo.
A difference 'twixt Glycerium and my son.


58

Chremes.
I hear.

[ironically.
Simo.
A breach so wide as gives me hopes
To sep'rate them for ever.

Chremes.
Idle tales!

Simo.
Indeed 'tis thus.

Chremes.
Ay marry, thus it is.
Quarrels of lovers but renew their love.

Simo.
Prevent we then, I pray, this mischief now;
While time permits, while yet his passion's sore
From contumelies; e'er these womens' wiles,
Their wicked arts, and tears made up of fraud
Shake his weak mind, and melt it to compassion.
Give him a wife: By intercourse with her,
Knit by the bonds of wedlock, soon, I hope,
He'll rise above the guilt that sinks him now.

Chremes.
So you believe: for me, I cannot think
That he'll be constant, or that I can bear it.

Simo.
How can you know, unless you make the trial?

Chremes.
Ay, but to make that trial on a daughter
Is hard indeed.

Simo.
The mischief, should he fail,
Is only this: divorce, which heav'n forbid!
But mark what benefits if he amend!
First, to your friend you will restore a son;

59

Gain to yourself a son-in-law, and match
Your daughter to an honest husband.

Chremes.
Well!
Since you're so thoroughly convinc'd 'tis right,
I can deny you naught that lies in me.

Simo.
I see I ever lov'd you justly, Chremes.

Chremes.
But then—

Simo.
But what?

Chremes.
Whence is't you know
That there's a difference between them?

Simo.
Davus,
Davus, in all their secrets, told me so;
Advis'd me too, to hasten on the match
As fast as possible. Wou'd he, d'ye think,
Do that, unless he were full well assur'd
My son desir'd it too?—Hear, what he says.
Ho there! call Davus forth.—But here he comes.

 

Chremes is a humane, natural, unaffected old gentleman. Sealand in the Conscious Lovers, the English Chremes, is a sensible respectable merchant. Both the characters are properly sustained: but Chremes being induced first to renew his consent match, and afterwards wrought upon by currences arising in the fable to withdraw again, renders his character more essential to the Drama, than Sealand's.

SCENE VI.

Enter DAVUS.
Davus.
I was about to seek you.

Simo.
What's the matter?


60

Davus.
Why is not the bride sent for? it grows late.

Simo.
D'ye hear him?—Davus, I for some time past
Was fearful of you; lest, like other slaves,
As slaves go now, you should put tricks upon me,
And baffle me, to favour my son's love.

Davus.
I, Sir?

Simo.
I thought so: and in fear of that
Conceal'd a secret which I'll now disclose.

Davus.
What secret, Sir?

Simo.
I'll tell you: for I now
Almost begin to think you may be trusted.

Davus.
You've found what sort of man I am at last.

Simo.
No marriage was intended.

Davus.
How! none!

Simo.
None.
All counterfeit, to sound my son and you.

Davus.
How say you?

Simo.
Even so.

Davus.
Alack, alack!
I never could have thought it. Ah, what art!

[archly.
Simo.
Hear me. No sooner had I sent you in,
But opportunely I encounter'd Chremes.

Davus.
How! are we ruin'd then?
[aside.

Simo.
I told him all,

61

That you had just told me,—

Davus.
Confusion! how?

[aside.
Simo.
Begg'd him to grant his daughter, and at length
With much ado prevail'd.

Davus.
Undone!

[aside.
Simo.
How's that?

[overhearing.
Davus.
Well done! I said.

Simo.
My good friend Chremes then
Is now no obstacle.

Chremes.
I'll home awhile,
Order due preparations, and return.

[Exit.
Simo.
Prithee, now, Davus, seeing you alone
Have brought about this match—

Davus.
Yes, I alone.

Simo.
Endeavour farther to amend my son.

Davus.
Most diligently.

Simo.
It were easy now,
While his mind's irritated.

Davus.
Be at peace.

Simo.
Do then: where is he?

Davus.
Probably, at home.

Simo.
I'll in, and tell him, what I've now told you.

[Exit.

62

SCENE VII.

DAVUS
alone.
Lost and undone! To prison with me strait!
No prayer, no plea: for I have ruin'd all:
Deceiv'd the old man, hamper'd Pamphilus
With marriage; marriage, brought about to-day
By my sole means; beyond the hopes of one;
Against the other's will.—Oh cunning fool!
Had I been quiet, all had yet been well.
But see, he's coming. Would my neck were broken!

[retires.

SCENE VIII.

Enter PAMPHILUS; DAVUS behind.
Pam.
Where is this villain that has ruin'd me?

Davus.
I'm a lost man.

Pam.
And yet I must confess,
That I deserv'd this, being such a dolt,
A very ideot, to commit my fortunes
To a vile slave. I suffer for my folly,
But will at least take vengeance upon him.

Davus.
If I can but escape this mischief now,

63

I'll answer for hereafter.

Pam.
To my father
What shall I say?—And can I then refuse,
Who have but now consented? with what face?
I know not what to do.

Davus.
I'faith, nor I;
And yet it takes up all my thoughts. I'll tell him
I've hit on something to delay the match.

Pam.
Oh!

[seeing Davus.
Davus.
I am seen.

Pam.
So, Good Sir! What say you?
See, how I'm hamper'd with your fine advice.

Davus
coming forward.]
But I'll deliver you.

Pam.
Deliver me?

Davus.
Certainly, Sir.

Pam.
What, as you did just now?

Davus.
Better, I hope.

Pam.
And can you then believe
That I would trust you, Rascal? You amend
My broken fortunes, or redeem them lost?
You, who to-day, from the most happy state,
Have thrown me upon marriage.—Did not I
Foretell it would be thus?

Davus.
You did indeed.


64

Pam.
And what do you deserve for this?

Davus.
The gallows.
—Yet suffer me to take a little breath,
I'll devise something presently.

Pam.
Alas,
I have not leisure for your punishment.
The time demands attention to myself,
Nor will be wasted in revenge on you.

 

Quid meritus? This question is taken from the custom of the Athenians, who never condemned a criminal without first asking what punishment he thought he deserved; and according to the nature of the culprit's answer, they mitigated or aggravated his punishment.

Dacier.

The Commentators cite a passage exactly parallel from the Frogs of Aristophanes.

Characters too faintly drawn are the opposite of Caricature. Pamphilus in the Andrian is, in my mind a faint character. Davus has precipitated him into a marriage that he abhors. His mistress has but just been brought to-bed. He has a hundred reasons to be out of humour. Yet he takes all in good part.

Diderot.

I cannot think there is much justice in the above observation. Pamphilus appears to me to have all the feelings of an amiable and ingenuous mind. There is an observation of Donatus on Simo's observing to Davus, at the end of the second Act, that his son appeared to him to be rather melancholy, which is in my opinion infinitely more just, and applicable to the character of Pamphilus than the remark of our ingenious French Critick. It has been reserved for this place on purpose to oppose them to each other. The passage and note on it are as follow.

Yet in my mind he seem'd a little sad.]

The propriety of behaviour necessary to the different characters of the Son and the Lover, is wonderfully preserved in this instance. A deceit, sustained with great assurance, would not have been agreeable to the character of an ingenuous youth: and it would have been improbable in the character of the Lover to have entirely smothered his concern. He suppresses it therefore in some measure, because the thing was to be concealed; but could not assume a thorough joyfulness, because his disposition and his passion inspired him with melancholy.

Donatus.

It may be added also, as a further answer to Diderot, that the words with which Pamphilus concludes this act, alluding to his present situation, assign a very natural reason for his subduing the transports of his anger towards Davus.