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ACT III.
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353

ACT III.

SCENE I.

SOSTRATA, CANTHARA.
Sos.
Prithee, good nurse, how will it go with her?

Can.
How go with her? Why well, I warrant you.

Sos.
Her pains begin to come upon her, nurse.

Can.
You're as much frighten'd at your time of day,
As if you ne'er was present at a labour,
Or never had been brought to bed yourself.

Sos.
Alas, I've no soul here: we're all alone.
Geta is absent; nor is there a creature
To fetch a midwife, or call Æschinus.

Can.
He'll be here presently, I promise you:
For he, good man, ne'er lets a single day
Go by, but he is sure to visit us.

Sos.
He is my only comfort in my sorrows.

Can.
Troth, as the case stands, madam, circumstances
Could not have happen'd better than they have:
And since your daughter suffer'd violence,
'Twas well she met with such a man as this;
A man of honour, rank, and family.

Sos.
He is, indeed, a worthy gentleman:
The Gods preserve him to us!


354

SCENE II.

Enter GETA hastily at another part of the Stage.
Geta.
We are now
So absolutely lost, that all the world
Joining in consultation to apply
Relief to the misfortune, that has fallen
On me, my mistress, and her daughter, all
Wou'd not avail.—Ah me! so many troubles
Environ us at once, we sink beneath them.
Rape, poverty, oppression, solitude,
And infamy! oh, what an age is this!
O wicked, oh vile race!—oh impious man!

Sos.
to Canthara.]
Ah, why should Geta seem thus terrified,
And agitated?

Geta,
to himself.]
Wretch! whom neither honour,
Nor oaths, nor pity could controul or move!
Nor her approaching labour; her, on whom
He shamefully committed violation!

Sos.
I don't well understand him.

Can.
Prithee then
Let us draw nearer, Sostrata!


355

Geta,
to himself.]
Alas,
I'm scarcely in my perfect mind, I burn
With such fierce anger.—Oh, that I had all
That villain-family before me now,
That I might vent my indignation on them,
While yet it boils within me.—There is nothing
I'd not endure to be reveng'd on them.
First I'd tread out the stinking snuff his father,
Who gave the monster being.—And then, Syrus,
Who urg'd him to it,—how I'd tear him!—First,
I'd seize him round the waist, and lift him high,
Then dash his head against the ground, and strew
The pavement with his brains.—For Æschinus,
I'd tear his eyes out, and then tumble him,
Headforemost down some precipice.—The rest
I'd rush on, drag, crush, trample underfoot.
But why do I delay to tell my mistress
This heavy news as soon as possible?

[going.
Sos.
Let's call him back.—Ho, Geta!

Geta.
Whosoe'er
You are, excuse me.


356

Sos.
I am Sostrata.

Geta.
Where, where is Sostrata? [turns about.]
I sought you, Madam;

Impatiently I fought you: and am glad
To have encounter'd you thus readily.

Sos.
What is the matter? why d'ye tremble thus?

Geta.
Alas!

Sos.
Take breath!—But why thus mov'd, good Geta?

Geta.
We're quite—

Sos.
Quite what?

Geta.
Undone: We're ruin'd, Madam.

Sos.
Explain, for heaven's sake!

Geta.
Ev'n now—

Sos.
What now?

Geta.
Æschinus—

Sos.
What of Æschinus?

Geta.
Has quite
Estrang'd himself from all our family.

Sos.
How's that? confusion! why?

Geta.
He loves another.

Sos.
Wretch that I am!

Geta.
Nor that clandestinely;
But snatch'd her in the face of all the world
From a procurer.

Sos.
Are you sure of this?


357

Geta.
Sure? With these very eyes I saw it, Madam.

Sos.
Alas, alas! What then can we believe?
To whom give credit?—What? our Æschinus!
Our very life, our sole support, and hope!
Who swore he could not live one day without her,
And promis'd he would place the new-born babe
Upon his father's lap, and in that way
Wring from him his consent to marry her!

Geta.
Nay, weep not, mistress; but consider rather
What course were best to follow: to conceal.
This wrong, or to disclose it to some friend?

Can.
Disclose it! Are you mad? Is this a thing

358

To be disclos'd, d'ye think?

Geta.
I'd not advise it.
For first, that he has quite abandon'd us,
The thing itself declares. If we then make
The story known, no doubt but he'll deny it.
Your reputation, and your daughter's life
Will be endanger'd: or if he confess,
Since he affects another, 'twere not good
That he should wed your daughter.—For which reasons,
Silence is requisite.

Sos.
Ah, no: not I.

Geta.
What mean you?

Sos.
To disclose the whole.

Geta.
How, Madam!
Think what you are about.

Sos.
Whatever happens,
The thing can't be in a worse state than now.
In the first place my daughter has no portion,
And that which should have been her second dowry,
Is also lost; and she can ne'er be giv'n
In marriage as a virgin. For the rest,
If he denies his former commerce with her,
I have the ring he lost to vouch the fact.
In short, since I am conscious to myself,

359

That I am not to blame in this proceeding,
And that no sordid love of gain, nor aught,
Unworthy of my daughter or myself,
Has mixt in this affair, I'll try it, Geta.

Geta.
Well, I agree, 'twere better to disclose it.


360

Sos.
You then away, as fast as possible,
And run to Hegio our good friend and kinsman,
To let him know the whole affair: for He
Was the chief friend of my dear Simulus,
And ever shew'd a great regard for Us.

Geta.
And well he does, for no one else cares for us.

Sos.
And you, good Canthara, away with haste,
And call a midwife; that we may be sure
Of her assistance in the time of need.

[Exeunt severally.
 

Geta's reply is founded on a frolicksome, but ill-natured custom, which prevailed in Greece; to stop the slaves in the streets, and designedly keep them in chat, so that they might be lashed when they came home, for staying out so long. Dacier.

Nostrumne Æschinum? &c. There is something extremely touching in this manner of speaking. Shakespeare, whose works contain examples of every species of beauty in poetry, affords us a very elegant instance of this irregular manner, which, addressing itself to the passions, affects us more sensibly than set forms of speech. The turn of phrase, in which Desdemona pleads for Cassio, is a good deal similar to the way in which Sostrata here speaks of Æschinus.

------What? Michael Cassio?—
That came a wooing with you, and many a time,
When I have spoke of you dispraisingly,
Hath ta'en your part, to have so much to do
To bring him in!
Othello.

The Grecians, as soon as they had a child born, immediately put it on the grandfather's knee if he were living. Phœnix in the ninth Iliad says that his father loaded him with curses, and invoked the Furies, conjuring them that no child of his son might be placed on his knees.

------ Πατηρ δ'εμος, αυτικ' οισθεις,
Πολλα κατηρατο, στυγερας δ'επεκεκλετ' Εριννυς,
Μη ποτε γουνασιν οισιν εφεσσεσθαι φιλον υιον
Εξ εμεθεν γεγαωτα.
Iliad, l. ix. v. 453.

Mr. Pope's translation not having preserved that idea, the liberty has been taken, of adding two lines.

My sire with curses loads my hated head,
And cries, “Ye Furies! barren be his bed.
Never, dread sisters, never may I see
A child, his offspring, plac'd upon my knee!
See Pope's Iliad, b. 9. v. 582.

This custom did not prevail among the Romans: our author, notwithstanding, as he translated his play from the Greek, judiciously preserves that usage.

Dacier.

Accedo, ut melius dicas. Nothing can be plainer than these words. Yet they have been the occasion of great perplexity to commentators and translators. Madam Dacier gives them a sense directly opposite to that which I have followed. Ah, qu'allez vous faire? je vous en prie changez de sentiment. Echard, who keeps his eye more constantly on the French translation, than on the original, says, much to the same purpose, D'ye think so? Pray think on't again. Cooke has it, How? let me advise you to think better of it. Westerhovius supposes Sostrata to have seemed angry with Geta, and therefore explains ut melius dicas to signify ut bona verba loquaris—that you may speak mildly. Patrick justly thinking that this is too strained, and no satisfying answer to Sostrata; and, from what follows, seeing the necessity of explaining Geta's answer, so as to make it imply an assent, supposes an elleipsis, and supplies it thus. Accedo tibi, ut qui melius dicas.—I submit to you, as you seem to speak with more justice. All these interpretations are founded on the supposition that melius is the accusative governed by dicas. I have no doubt but that melius is here used adverbially, which will lead us to this easy construction, Accedo, melius ut dicas;—I agree, that you may better tell it; implying Geta's coming into her opinion on the point in dispute. The remark of Donatus on this passage, ut consentiam, velut qui melius possim dicere, is certainly corrupted; but if we read, as we are told it stands in some copies, veluti melius potens sis dicere, it will give the same sense that I have followed. Eugraphius in his long note on the words Hera, lacrumas mitte! weep not, mistress! plainly understands them in this manner. But, as a greater authority than all commentators, I shall appeal to Terence himself; and submit the whole context, as it stands in the original, to the judgment of the learned reader.—These verbal criticisms are dry and unpleasant both to the writer and reader. I very frequently avoid them: but in a controverted passage, where the sense is materially concerned, it would seem indolence or arrogance not to submit to them.

G. Hera, lacrumas mitte, ac potius, quod ad hanc rem opu', porro prospice.
Patiamurne, an narremus cuipiam? C. au, au mi homo, san un' es?
An hoc proferendum tibi usquam esse videtur? G. mihi quidem non placet.
Jam primum, illum alieno animo à nobis esse, res ipsa indicat.
Nunc si hoc palam proferimus, ille inficias ibit, sat scio;
Tua fama, & gnatæ vita in dubium veniet. tum si maxume
Fateatur, cum ametaliam, non est utile hanc illi dari.
Quapropter, quoquo pacto tacito est opus. S. ah, minime gentium:
Non faciam. G. quid ages? S. proferam. G. hem, mea Sostrata, vide quam rem agas.
S. Pejore res loco non potis est esse, quam in hoc, quo nunc sita est.
Primum indotata est: tum præterea, quæ secunda ei dos erat,
Periit: pro virgine dari nuptum non potest: hoc relliquum est,
Si inficias ibit, testis mecum est annulus, quem amiserat.
Postremo, quando ego conscia mî sum, à me culpam hanc procul esse, nec
Pretium, neque rem ullam intercesse illa aut me indignam; experiar, Geta.
G. Quid istic? accedo, ut melius dicas. S. tu, quantum potest, abi, &c.

SCENE III.

Enter DEMEA.
Dem.
Confusion! I have heard that Ctesipho
Was present with his brother at this riot.
This is the sum of all my miseries,
If He, even He, a sober, hopeful, lad,
May be seduc'd into debaucheries.
—But where shall I enquire for him? I warrant
They have decoy'd him into some vile brothel.
That profligate persuaded him, I'm sure.

361

—But here comes Syrus; He can tell me all.
And yet this slave is of the gang; and if
He once perceives that I'm enquiring for him,
He'll never tell me any thing, a rogue!
I'll not discover my design.

SCENE IV.

Enter SYRUS at another part of the Stage.
Syrus,
to himself.]
We've just
Disclos'd the whole of this affair to Micio,
Exactly as it happen'd. I ne'er saw
The good old gentleman more pleas'd.

Dem.
Oh heav'n,
The folly of the man!

[listening.
Syrus,
to himself.]
He prais'd his son;
Me, who concerted the whole scheme, he thank'd.

Dem.
I burst with rage.

[listening.
Syrus,
to himself.]
He told the money down
Immediately, and threw us in beside,
To make an entertainment, a Half-Mina:
Which I've laid out according to my liking.

Dem.
So! if you'd have your business well ta'en care of,
Commit it to this fellow!


362

Syrus,
overhearing.]
Who's there? Demea!
I did not see you, Sir. How goes it?

Dem.
How?
I can't sufficiently admire your conduct.

Syrus,
negligently.]
Silly enough, to say the truth, and idle
To servants within.]
—Cleanse you the rest of those fish, Dromo: Let

That large eel play a little in the water.
When I return it shall be bon'd; till then
It must not be.

Dem.
Are crimes like these—

Syrus,
to Demea.]
Indeed
I like them not, and oft cry shame upon them.
—To servants within.]
See that those salt fish are well soak'd, Stephanio.


Dem.
Gods, is this done on purpose? Does he think
'Tis laudable to spoil his son? Alas!
I think I see the day, when Æschinus
Shall fly for want, and list himself a soldier.

Syrus.
O Demea! That is to be wise: To see,
Not that alone which lies before your feet,
But ev'n to pry into futurity.

Dem.
What? is the Musick-Girl at your house?

Syrus.
Ay,
Madam's within.


363

Dem.
What! and is Æschinus
To keep her at home with him?

Syrus.
I believe so;
Such is their madness.

Dem.
Is it possible?

Syrus.
A fond, and foolish father!

Dem.
I'm asham'd
To own my brother. I'm griev'd for him.

Syrus.
Ah!
There is a deal of diff'rence, Demea,
—Nor is't, because you're present, that I say this—
There is a mighty difference between you!
You are, from top to toe, all over wisdom:
He, a mere dotard.—Would you e'er permit
Your boy to do such things?

Dem.
Permit him? I?
Or should I not much rather smell him out
Six months before he did but dream of it?

Syrus.
Pshaw! do you boast your vigilance to Me?

Dem.
Heav'n keep him ever, as he is at present!

Syrus.
As fathers form their children, so they prove.

Dem.
But now we're speaking of him, have you seen
The lad to-day?

[with an affected carelessness.
Syrus.
Your son d'ye mean?—I'll drive him

364

Into the country. [aside.]
—He is hard at work

Upon your grounds by this time.

[to Demea.
Dem.
Are you sure on't?

Syrus.
Sure? I set out with him myself.

Dem.
Good! good!
I was afraid he loiter'd here.

[aside.
Syrus.
And much
Enrag'd, I promise you.

Dem.
On what account?

Syrus.
A quarrel with his Brother at the Forum,
About the Musick-Girl.

Dem.
Indeed?

Syrus.
Ay, faith:
He did not mince the matter: he spoke out.
For as the cash was telling down, in pops,
All unexpected, Master Ctesipho:
Cries out,—“Oh Æschinus, are these your courses?
“Do you commit these crimes; and do you bring
“Such a disgrace upon our family?”

Dem.
Oh, oh, I weep for joy.

Syrus.
—“You squander not
“The money only, but your life, your honour.”

Dem.
Heav'n bless him! He is like his ancestors.

[weeping.
Syrus.
Father's own son, I warrant him.


365

Dem.
Oh, Syrus!
He's full of all those precepts, He!

Syrus.
No doubt on't:
He need not go from home for good instruction.

Dem.
I spare no pains; neglect no means: I train him.
—In short I bid him look into the lives
Of all, as in a mirror, and thence draw
From others an example for himself.
—“Do this.”—

Syrus.
Good!

Dem.
“Fly that.”

Syrus.
Very good!

Dem.
“This deed
“Is commendable.”

Syrus.
That's the thing!

Dem.
“That's reprehensible.”

Syrus.
Most excellent!

Dem.
“And then moreover—

Syrus.
Faith, I have not time
To give you further audience just at present.
I've got an admirable dish of fish;
And I must take good care they are not spoilt.
For that were an offence as grievous, Demea,
In Us, as 'twere in You to leave undone

366

The things you just now mention'd: and I try,
According to my weak abilities,
To teach my fellow-slaves the self-same way.
—“This is too salt.—This is burnt-up too much.
—“That is not nice and cleanly.—That's well done.
“Mind, and do so again.”—I spare no pains,
And give them the best precepts that I can.
In short, I bid them look into the dishes,
As in a mirror, Demea, and thence learn
The duty of a cook.—This school of our's,
I own, is idle: but what can you do?
According to the man must be the lesson.
—Would you aught else with us?

Dem.
Your reformation.

Syrus.
Do you go hence into the country?

Dem.
Strait.

Syrus.
For what should you do here, where nobody,
However good your precepts, cares to mind them?

[Exit.

SCENE V.

DEMEA
alone.
I then will hence, since he, on whose account
I hither came, is gone into the country.

367

He is my only care, He's my concern,
My Brother, since he needs will have it so,
May look to Æschinus himself.—But who
Is coming yonder? Hegio, of our tribe?
If I see plainly, beyond doubt 'tis he.
Ah, we've been old acquaintance quite from boys;
And such men now-a-days are wondrous scarce.
A citizen of ancient faith and virtue!
The commonwealth will ne'er reap harm from Him.
How I rejoice to see but the remains
Of this old stock! Ah, life's a pleasure now.
I'll wait, that I may ask about his health,
And have a little conversation with him.

 

We are told that the Athenians were divided into tribes, but writers are not agreed as to their number. Some say twelve, in imitation of the Jewish tribes: but what connection was there between the Athenians and Jews? It is probable that this number was derived from the twelve months of the year: for we find that there were also in every tribe thirty subdivisions, alluding to the number of days in a month. Patrick.

SCENE VI.

Enter HEGIO, GETA conversing at a distance.
Hegio.
Good heaven! a most unworthy action, Geta!
Can it be true?

Geta.
Ev'n so.


368

Hegio.
A deed so base
Sprung from that family?—Oh Æschinus,
I'm sure this was not acting like your father.

Demea,
behind.]
So! he has heard about this Musick-Girl,
And is affected at it, tho' a stranger,
While his good father truly thinks it nothing.
Oh monstrous! wou'd that he were somewhere nigh,
And heard all this!

Hegio.
Unless they do what's just,
They shall not carry off the matter thus.

Geta.
Our only hope is in you, Hegio.
You're our sole friend, our guardian, and our father.
The good old Simulus, on his death-bed,
Bequeath'd us to your care. If you desert us,
We are undone indeed.

Hegio.
Ah, name it not!
I will not, and, with honesty, I cannot.

Dem.
I'll go up to him.—Save you, Hegio!

Hegio.
The man I look'd for.—Save you, Demea!

Dem.
Your pleasure!

Hegio.
Æschinus, your elder son,
Adopted by your brother, has committed
A deed unworthy of an honest man,
And of a gentleman.


369

Dem.
How so?

Hegio.
You knew
Our friend and good acquaintance, Simulus?

Dem.
Ay, sure.

Hegio.
He has debauch'd his daughter.

Dem.
How!

Hegio.
Hold, Demea; for the worst is still to come.

Dem.
Is there aught worse?

Hegio.
Much worse: for this perhaps
Might be excus'd. The night, love, wine, and youth
Might prompt him. 'Tis the frailty of our nature.
—Soon as his sense returning made him conscious
Of his rash outrage, of his own accord
He came to the girl's mother, weeping, praying,
Intreating, vowing constancy, and swearing
That he would take her home.—He was forgiven;
The thing conceal'd; and his vows credited.
The girl from that encounter prov'd with child:
This is the tenth month. —He, good gentleman,
Has got a Musick-Girl, heav'n bless the mark!
With whom he means to live, and quit the other.

Dem.
And are you well assur'd of this?


370

Hegio.
The mother,
The girl, the fact itself, are all before you,
Joining to vouch the truth on't. And besides,
This Geta here—as servants go, no bad one,
Nor given up to idleness—maintains them;
The sole support of all the family.
Here take him, bind him, force the truth from him.

Geta.
Ay, torture me, if 'tis not so, good Demea!
Nay, Æschinus, I'm sure, will not deny it.
Bring me before him.

Dem.
aside.]
I'm asham'd: and what
To do, or what to say to him, I know not.

Pamphila,
within.]
Ah me! I'm torn in pieces!—Racking pains!
Juno Lucina, help me! save, I pray thee!

Hegio.
Ha! Is she then in labour, Geta?

Geta.
Yes, Sir.

Hegio.
Hark! she now calls upon your justice, Demea!
Grant her then freely, what law else will claim.
And heaven send, that you may rather do
What honour bids! But if you mean it not,
Be sure of this; that with my utmost force

371

I'll vindicate the girl, and her dead father.
He was my kinsman: we were bred together
From children; and our fortunes twin'd together
In war, and peace, and bitter poverty.
Wherefore I'll try, endeavour, strive, nay lose
My life itself, before I will forsake them.
—What is your answer?

Dem.
I'll find out my brother:
What he advises, I will follow, Hegio.

Hegio.
But still remember, Demea, that the more
You live at ease; the more your pow'r, your wealth,
Your riches, and nobility; the more
It is your duty to act honourably,
If you regard the name of honest men.

Dem.
Go to: we'll do you justice.

Hegio.
'Twill become you.
Geta, conduct me into Sostrata.

[Exit with Geta.
 

Lunar months: the common method of computation before Julius Cæsar. Westerhovius.

This is the second instance in our author of the outcries of a woman in labour: a circumstance not easily to be reconciled to modern notions of decency, though certainly considered as no indecorum in those days. I shall not defend the practice; but cannot help observing, that allowing such an incident, Terence in the present instance makes a most pathetick and oratorical use of it.

In Menander, Hegio was the brother of Sostrata. Westerhovius.

Quod mihi de hâc re dederit consilium, id sequar. Madam Dacier rejects this line, because it is also to be found in the Phormio. But it is no uncommon thing with our author to use the same expression or verse in different places, especially on familiar occasions. There is no impropriety in it here, and the foregoing hemistich is rather lame without it. The propriety of consulting Micio, or Demea's present ill-humour with him, are of no consequence. The old man is surprized at Hegio's story, does not know what to do or to say, and means to evade giving a positive answer, by saying that he would consult his brother.


372

SCENE VII.

DEMEA
alone.
This is no more than I foretold: and well
If his intemperance wou'd stop here!—But this
Immoderate indulgence must produce
Some terrible misfortune in the end.
—I'll hence, find out my brother, tell my news,
And empty all my indignation on him.

[Exit.

SCENE VIII.

Re-enter HEGIO, speaking to Sostrata at the Door.
Be of good cheer, my Sostrata; and comfort,
As much as in your pow'r, poor Pamphila!
I'll find out Micio, if he's at the Forum,
And tell him the whole story: if he'll act
With honour in it, why 'tis well; if not,
Let him but speak his mind to me, and then
I shall know how to act accordingly.

[Exit.