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Lucescit hoc jam. This is spoken with the eyes lifted up towards heaven; hoc has reference to cœlum, which is understood. Thus Plautus in his Curculio. Nam hoc quidem edepol haud multò post luce lucebit.

It is beyond all doubt that this play was acted at two different and distinct times; the two first acts at night, after sun-set; and the three remaining acts the next morning, at break of day: the time between the second and third act was taken up with the carousal and supper given by Chremes. Menander, upon account of the feasts then celebrating, had a right to divide his comedy in this manner: Terence took the same liberty, and with the same justice, since his plays were represented at Rome upon the like solemn occasions. Eugraphius, who wrote notes upon this comedy, was of opinion that this method was without precedent; but he is mistaken. Aristophanes did the very same thing; the two first acts of his Plutus were performed in the evening, the three last early the next morning, and the time between the second and third act is employed by Plutus in paying a visit to the temple of Æsculapius, where he passes the whole night. If we could precisely tell the hour, at which Aristophanes opens his play, we should undoubtedly find he had not transgressed the unity of time (twelve hours) which is requisite to dramatick pieces. It is at least certain that Terence has not exceeded it here, and that he is as exact in this particular as in every other. The play begins a little after eight at night. The two first acts do not last above two hours; they then go to supper; this makes an interval of six or seven hours. The third act begins at the break of day, as Terence has taken care to point out, lucescit hoc jam;—'tis now just day-break.—So that the three acts, which could not last three hours, must have ended about seven in the morning. But what is chiefly remarkable is, that this third interval is interwoven with the subject matter of the play, as well as it is in Aristophanes. Chremes, during that time, observes the freedoms which pass between Clitipho and Bacchis; and this creates great part of the business of the third act. The critics were little attentive to this, when they cry out,—Vasta & hians & inanis comœdia est;—there is a void, a gap, an emptiness in this comedy.—Which is far, very far from being true; for what they call so, has a very material connection with the play, and may be said to be almost the very ground-work of it. Had Terence divided it so, that this interval had not entered into the subject, it would indeed have been ridiculous and insupportable. Were we to act one of Moliere's plays thus by piece-meal, the beginning to-night, and the end to-morrow morning, every body would laugh at the partition; but Terence and Menander, who were perfect masters of the drama, attempted it with success. And indeed it might even now a-days be done with propriety, nay would become necessary, provided it could be executed with equal judgment and address.

The idea of the above note, as well as of several others of Madam Dacier, was first suggested by Scaliger, who, in the sixth book of his Poeticks, first broached the notion of this division of the comedy in the representation, in order to vindicate our author from the imputation of having left an unwarrantable chasm between the second and third acts. And it is something whimsical, that this great critick, after having depreciated our author's merit in the gross, more than any of his predecessors, should take it into his head to justify him against every objection that had been made to any particular passage in his works. But though Scaliger was ever dogmatical and positive in his opinion, yet that opinion was not always uncontrovertible: In the present instance I am so far from assenting with Madam Dacier that the fact is beyond all doubt, that I will venture to say there is not the least ground for such an assertion. Donatus, who mentions this play in his preface to the Phormio, does not afford the least colour to such an argument; nor do I believe there is any more countenance given to it by the scholiasts on Aristophanes: whose comedies it would be an extremely difficult task to reconcile to an agreement with the Unities.

One of the chief points in dispute between Hedelin and Menage, about this comedy, relates to this interval; and great part of the controversy turns upon a very obscure and uncertain part of literature, viz. whether the Athenian month Anthesterion be agreeable to our April or January. Both agree that a night elapses between the second and third act; but Hedelin, who is followed by Madam Dacier in the above note, contends that according to the time of year, and circumstances of the piece, it is an interval of six or seven hours, which Menage extends to thirteen or fourteen. Each of them lays out a deal of learning on this question, but in my mind to very little purpose. It is agreed on all hands, that a whole night certainly passes, and the spectator has not time to enter into a minute disquisition, whether 'tis in June or December: nor indeed could any thing tend to make the observation of the Unities appear ridiculous, so much as such a trifling consideration.—As to what Madam Dacier says of this interval's being interwoven with the subject; and of the supposed employments of the characters, in their absence from the stage, being made conducive to the fable; it is perfectly just, and every skilfull playwright should contrive his intervals with the like art. But to fill up those chasms by occupying the audience also in the same manner, is, I think, a more curious device than any in the Rehearsal. Madam Dacier herself could not be insensible of the difficulty, and confesses that a play of Moliere's, so divided in the representation, would appear very ridiculous; yet is willing to imagine that even a modern drama might be thus exhibited with propriety. Let us suppose therefore that, at the first opening of the theatre in the Haymarket, Sir John Vanburgh had written a comedy, in which he had introduced a masquerade at the end of the second act. The spectators assemble: two acts are played: then comes the masquerade; and the spectators, in order to fill up the interval, slip on their dominos, game, drink, dance, and intrigue 'till day-light. With what appetite would they return to the representation of the three last acts? However such a partition might be received at Rome or Athens, I think it would never go down at Paris or London: and, were it not for the example of Madam Dacier, I should imagine that even the most rigid French critick would think it more reasonable to be wafted from shore to shore by Shakespeare's chorus, than to adopt this extraordinary method of preserving the Unities.

Menedemus comes out of his house at day-break to return to his work; for he has already declared that he will allow himself no respite. This is well conducted. Dacier.

Terence discovers uncommon judgment in preserving his characters. Menedemus, when he hears of good news, immediately enquires, if they relate to his son, thinking nothing else worthy his notice. Patrick.

These repetitions are very natural. There is a passage very like this in the fourth act of the Captivi of Plautus.

Chremes takes Bacchis for Clinia's mistress, and his own son is her real gallant. This jeu de theatre is admirable. Dacier.

Satrapes si siet amator. Satrapes is originally a Hebrew word, but in use too among the Persians, who gave this title to the governours of their provinces; who were generally very rich, and so many petty kings in the eastern nations. Patrick.

Pytissando. Pytissare is a word originally Greek, and is, what we call, a verb of imitation, for its sound very much resembles the noise made by the action of spirting wine out of the mouth. Patrick.

Here we have, drawn in lively colours, the picture of a man hasty in running from one extreme to another. This gives occasion to the expedient offered by Chremes, which comes in very naturally, and insensibly leads to the remaining part of the plot. Patrick.

Hedelin obstinately contends from this passage, that neither Chremes, nor any of his family went to bed the whole night; the contrary of which is evident, as Menage observes, from the two next scenes. For why should Syrus take notice of his being up so early, if he had known that he had never retired to rest? or would Chremes have reproached Clitipho for his behaviour the night before, had the feast never been interrupted? Eugraphius's interpretation of these words is natural and obvious; who explains them to signify that the anxiety of Chremes to restore Clinia to Menedemus broke his rest.

Chremes seizes this as a very plausible and necessary pretence to engage Menedemus to return home, and not to his labour in the field, as he had at first intended. Dacier.

This circumstance is a further confirmation that the scene lies in the country.

These reflections have double force, when thrown out to the audience, who are conscious how applicable they are to Chremes as well as Menedemus.

Most probably a proverb, signifying a vigorous and lusty old age, like that of the eagle; who, as naturalists say, never dies of old age, and preserves its life by perpetual drinking. Dacier. Patrick.

Ita non ut olim, &c. This is certainly the true meaning of the sentence. Syrus artfully flatters the vanity of Chremes; old men are generally apt to think every thing they have seen or heard in former times, far surpasses the productions of the present. Dacier.

Antiphila is shortly to be acknowledged as the daughter of Chremes. She is not therefore in company with the other women at the feast, who were no other than courtezans, but with the wife of Chremes, and consequently free from reproach or scandal. Dacier.

Chremes is not allowed here to explain himself, being prevented by the coming of his wife; nor have any of the commentators given themselves the trouble to do it for him. What seems most probable to me is this. He finds that Bacchis makes a demand of ten minæ, and offers Antiphila as a pledge for it; a bargain by which he was sure to lose nothing, and wherein Bacchis could not deceive him, the girl being already in his possession. It is therefore likely that he intended to advance the money on those conditions himself.

The above conjecture of Madam Dacier would be a very ingenious way of accounting for a man's conduct in these circumstances in real life; but in a play where the source of every action is industriously laid open by the poet, had this been the intention of Chremes, I should think it would have been exprest, and the motive, that influenced him to it, also assigned. The following note on this scene gives a much better account of this conference between Chremes and Syrus, and shews of how much use it is in the ensuing part of the fable.

“Syrus pretends to have concerted this plot against Menedemus, in order to trick him out of some money to be given to Clinia's supposed mistress. Chremes, however, does not approve of this: yet it serves to carry on the plot; for when Antiphila proves afterwards to be the daughter of Chremes, he necessarily becomes the debtor of Bacchis, and is obliged to lay down the sum for which he imagines his daughter was pledged.”

Si sic factum est, domina, ergo herus DAMNO AUCTUS est. The most indifferent parts of an author commonly give the most trouble. The sense of the original being somewhat dark, and the best construction not very elegant, several attempts have been made to amend and alter the text. In this, as in most other cases, I believe the common reading to be the right; and that it contains nothing more than a conceit from the slave, founded on the words damno auctus, which I have endeavoured to render in the manner of the original, gains a loss. Some think by his master is meant Clitipho, others Chremes. Eugraphius explains the words to signify that Clitipho will be a loser by a new-found sister, who will be co-heiress; and others will have them to imply the loss to be sustained by Chremes in paying Antiphila's portion.

One cannot avoid being seized with a kind of horror, to think that, in a country so polite as Greece, men should be so barbarous, as to murder their own children without remorse, when they imagined it to be for the interest of their family. Philosophy had long before this demonstrated the horror, not only of these murders, but even of exposing children. But philosophy is always weak and unavailing, when opposed to customs authorized by long usage. Patrick.

The ancients imagined they were guilty of a most heinous crime, if they suffered their children to die, without having possessed some part of their fortune: the women therefore, who are generally superstitious, when they exposed their children, put some jewel or other trinket among their cloaths, by this means thinking to discharge their claim of inheritance, and to clear their own conscience. Dacier.

The meaning of this passage is this. Chremes tells his wife, that by having given this ring, she had done two good acts instead of one; she had cleared her conscience, and preserved her child; for had there been no ring or other token among the infant's things, the finder would scarce have been at the trouble of taking care of her, but might have left her to perish, never suspecting she would ever be enquired after, or themselves liberally rewarded for their pains of preserving her. Dacier.

Hedelin is grossly mistaken in saying that Antiphila bathed during the fourth act. It is so far from true, that, in the beginning of this scene, Sostrata sends the nurse to see if Antiphila was not already come out of the bath. Dacier.

Syrus is alarmed, fearing that, by the discovery of Antiphila, their plot on Menedemus would be baffled, and their imposition on Chremes detected. Eugraphius.

This he says by way of palliating the cruelty of his former orders to put the child to death. Dacier.

Here ends the act, and, by the discovery of Antiphila, to all appearance, the main story of the piece. The following observation on the great art of our poet, in continuing it through two acts more, is extremely just and ingenious.

“What would become of the piece which Terence has called the Self-Tormentor, if the poet, by an extraordinary effort of genius, had not contrived to take up the story of Clinia anew, and to weave it in with the intrigue of Clitipho?”