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SCENE II.
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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.