 | The Andrian |  |
SCENE V.
Enter PAMPHILUS.Pam.
Who calls?—Undone! my father!
Simo.
What say you? Most—
Chremes.
Ah, rather speak at once
Your purpose, Simo, and forbear reproach.
Simo.
As if 'twere possible to utter aught
Severer than he merits!—Tell me then;
[to Pam.
Glycerium is a citizen?
Pam.
They say so.
Simo.
They say so!—Oh amazing impudence!—
Does he consider what he says? does he
Repent the deed? or does his colour take
The hue of shame?—To be so weak of soul,
Against the custom of our citizens,
Against the law, against his father's will,
To wed himself to shame and this vile woman.
Wretch that I am!
Simo.
Ah, Pamphilus! d'ye feel
Your wretchedness at last? Then, then, when first
You wrought upon your mind at any rate
To gratify your passion; from that hour
Well might you feel your state of wretchedness.
—But why give in to this? Why torture thus,
Why vex my spirit? Why afflict my age
For his distemp'rature? Why rue his sins?
—No; let him have her, joy in her, live with her.
Pam.
My father!—
Simo.
How, my father!—can I think
You want this father? You that for yourself
A home, a wife, and children have acquir'd
Against your father's will? And witnesses
Suborn'd, to prove that she's a citizen?
—You've gain'd your point.
Pam.
My father, but one word!
Simo.
What would you say?
Chremes.
Nay, hear him, Simo.
Simo.
Hear him?
What must I hear then, Chremes?
Let him speak.
Simo.
Well, let him speak: I hear him.
Pam.
I confess,
I love Glycerium: if it be a fault,
That too I do confess. To you, my father,
I yield myself: dispose me as you please!
Command me! Say, that I shall take a wife;
Leave Her;—I will endure it, as I may.—
This only I beseech you, think not I
Suborn'd this old man hither.—Suffer me
To clear myself, and bring him here before you.
Simo.
Bring him here!
Pam.
Let me, father!
Chremes.
'Tis but just:
Permit him!
Pam.
Grant me this!
Simo.
Well, be it so.
Exit Pamphilus.
Much more, to know that he deceiv'd me not.
Chremes.
For a great fault a little punishment
Suffices to a father.
There was a law among the Athenians, that no citizen should marry a stranger; which law also excluded such as were not born of two citizens, from all offices of trust and honour. See Plutarch's Life of Pericles. Cooke.
Donatus is full of admiration of this speech, and tells us that it was not taken from Menander, but original in Terence.
The above scene, admirable as it is, had not, it seems, sufficient temptations for Sir Richard Steele to induce him to include it in his plan of the Conscious Lovers. Bevil and his Father are never brought to an open rupture, like Simo and Pamphilus, but rather industriously kept from coming to any explanation, which is one reason of the insipidity and want of spirit in their characters. It must be obvious to every reader, how naturally this scene brings on the catastrophe: how injudiciously then has the English Poet deprived his audience of the pleasure that must have arisen from it in the representation, and contented himself with making Sir J. Bevil declare, at entering with his son, after the discovery is “over, Your good sister, Sir, has with the story of your daughter's fortune, filled us with surprize and joy! Now all exceptions are removed; my Son has now avowed his love, and turned all former jealousies and doubts to approbation, and, I am told; your goodness has consented to reward him.” How many dramatick incidents, what fine pictures of the manners, has Terence drawn from the circumstances huddled together in these few lines of Sir Richard Steele!
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