Specimens of the Poets and Poetry of Greece and Rome

Belabour him most heartily. Charm. Your counsel's right, and I'm resolv'd

to do so.

Charm. Undone !-Who bought it?
Stas.

Callicles, to whom,
While absent, your affairs you trusted: hither
Has he remov'd, and now abides here; us
He has turn'd out of doors.
Charm.

Where lives my son? Stas. Here in this back part. Charm.

Utterly undone !

Stus. I thought 'twould grieve you, when you

came to hear it.

Charm. What dangers have I pass'd! borne, hapless wretch,

Stas. Except, indeed, that you are bounden to Through oceans vast, to pirates numberless

him

Expos'd, with hazard of my life!—At length
Preserv'd, return'd in safety, I am lost,
Here perish, and through those, for whom alone,
Old as I am, I struggled with misfortunes.-
I'm sick at heart with grief.-Support me, Sta-

simus!

SCENE V.

Enter CALLICLES.

Cal. What noise is that I hear before the door? Charm. O Callicles! O Callicles! to whom Have I intrusted my affairs? ah me! To what a friend?

Cal.

An honest and a faithful,

Stas. Ha! who makes mention of that best of A trusty one, of strict fidelity.

mortals?

I am rejoic'd to see you here return'd

Charm. That best of mortals, he himself,-In safety.

'tis I.

Stas. (turning.) O sea! O earth! O heaven!
O all ye gods!

Have I my eyesight clear? and is it he?
Or is it not?-Tis he!-tis he, for certain!—
'Tis he indeed!-0 my most wish'd-for master,
Save you-

Charm. And you too, Stasimus.
Stas.

That you're safeCharm. (interrupting.) I know what you would say, and do believe you.

Wave other points: resolve me but in this:
How do my children do, whom here I left,
My son and daughter?
Stas.

Charm. Both, say you?
Stas.

Charm.

Charm. I believe it all, if so You prove yourself as you pretend you are.— But wherefore thus accoutred? I'll inform you.

Cal.

One running of it;-there you'll find the ship,
That brought me hither: bid Sangario see

They're alive, and well. The goods unladen, which I order'd;-go then,—
The impost I have paid.
Stas.

Both.

Gods! 'twas your gracious will To save me for them. What I more would

Has lov'd him with unchangeable affection!
Oh, he's the only one, I dare be sworn,
That's faithful to him!-Aye, he has a view
To serve himself in serving of my master. [Exit.

ACT V. SCENE I.

Enter LYSITELES.

I am the first of men, surpassing all
In pleasure and in joy, so happily
Does every thing befall me, that I wish:
Still one success is followed by another
In all I do, and transport seconds transport.
Young Lesbonicus' servant, Stasimus,
Met me just now, and told me, Charmides
His master was return'd here from abroad.
'Tis proper I should meet him with all speed,
That so the compact 'twixt his son and me
May by the father's sanction be confirm'd.
I'll go. But hark, the door I hear is opening:-
This hindrance now is most unseasonable.
(retires to a distance.)

SCENE II.

Enter CHARMIDES and CALLICLES.
Charm. I cannot think there is a man on earth,
Or ever was a man, or ever will be,
Whose faith and honest firmness to his friend
Can equal thine: had it not been for thee,
He had unhons'd me of my house and home.

Cal. If I have serv'd my friend in any thing,
Or acted towards him with fidelity,

I scarce can seem to merit any praise,
But think, I only have avoided blame.
Whatever we confer upon a friend
To have and hold for ever, is his own;
But what is only lent him for a time,
May be demanded back again at pleasure.

Charm. 'Tis as you say.-But now, my honest

friend,

I cannot enough wonder, that my son

Charm.

tend you!

Charm. O Callicles! and yet there is a point
In which I've reason to be angry with you.
Cal. What have I done?
Charm.

My son!-you've suffer'd him

Should have betroth'd his sister in a family
So wealthy as Lysiteles', Philto's heir.
Lys. (behind.) My name he mentions.
By my troth, the girl
Has got into the best of families.
Lys. Why not address me to them?-Yet 'tis To be debauch'd.
Cal.
If wilfully 'twere done,
With my consent, you would have cause indeed
To be most angry with me.-But I pray you,
Let me obtain from you this one request,
Which I entreat.

better

To wait awhile; for the discourse concerns me.
Charm. Ah!

Cal.

Charm.

What's the matter?

I forgot indeed
To tell you, while we were within.-Just now,
On my arrival here, a certain knave
Accosted me, a very knave in grain.
He told me, he had brought a thousand pieces
For you and Lesbonicus, of my giving;—
Though who he is, I know not, nor did ever
See him before.-But wherefore do you laugh?
Cal. He came by my direction, as from you
Bringing me sums of gold, for me to give
In dowry with your daughter; so your son
On the receipt might think it came from you;
Lest knowing of the truth, and that the treasure
Was lodg'd in my possession, by our laws
He might demand it as his patrimony.
Charm. A rare conceit!

With boisterous voice calls on me to come forth
With speed here?
Cal.

A well-wisher, and a friend. Then be it so. (to Lys.) And you, sir, be prepar'd
For marriage the day after.-Clap your hands.

Les. Tell me, is any thing amiss?
Cal.

I am rejoic'd, your father is return'd
In safety from abroad.

Les.

Cal.

All's right.

Who says so?

Les. How have you seen him?

Cal.

May see him too.

Yes, and you yourself (pointing to Charm.) Les. (going up.) My father! O my father! Heaven's blessings on you.

FROM THE MERCHANT.

WIVES AND HUSBANDS.

Now, by my troth, the poor unhappy women Are much more hardly dealt with than the men. For if a husband brings a mistress home, Though the wife finds her under her own roof, There is no law that punishes the man: But catch her rambling with gallants abroad, And on you, my son! The husband truly sues for a divorce. Les. Any mischance, good father? Would the same law held good for man and Charm. wife!

Charm.

Never fear:
Nothing has happen'd: I am safe arriv'd;
And well have manag'd my affairs.-O son!
If you would but be prudent, Callicles
Has promis'd you his daughter.

For since the wife, if she's an honest woman,
Will be contented with her husband; why
Should not the husband also with the wife?
I would fain have fair play between them both.

TERENCE.

[Born 195,-Died 159, B. C.]

PUBLIUS TERENTIUS AFER, better known to alterations made on them, and in his manner of the English reader by the name of Terence, was a native of Carthage, and the slave of Terentius Lucanus, a Roman senator. His master, perceiving the youth's talents, not only bestowed on him a liberal education, but crowned the good deed by adding to it his freedom. At Rome our poet seems to have been generally respected and beloved, living on terms of friendly intercourse with Caius Lælius and the most distinguished nobles of the commonwealth, but, above all, with that practiser and patron of all that was good and great, the younger Africanus.-After writing six comedies, all of which were received with more or less admiration and applause by the Romans, he embarked for Greece and was never heard of more, having probably perished at sea. Most of the plots in Terence's plays were taken from the Greek, but he has shown the greatest taste and judgment in the additions and

accommodating them to the Roman stage; nor
can I help thinking, with Mr. Dunlop, that, "had
he lived an age later, when all the arts were in
full glory at Rome, and the empire at its height
of power and splendour, he would have found
domestic subjects sufficient to supply his scene
with interest and variety, and no longer accounted
it a greater merit-Græcas transferre quam pro-
prias scribere.'" For the beauties of style and
language Terence may be placed at the head of
all the comic writers. His diction is uniformly
terse, elegant, and unaffected,-unsurpassed in
purity and grace by the writers of the Augustan
age itself. He is characterized by Cæsar as
"puri sermonis amator," and by Cicero as-
'quicquid come loquens, ac omnia dulcia di-
cens." The elegant conversations of Africanus,
and the "Mitis sapientia Leli," were not lost
upon their humble friend and admirer.

THE bard, when first he gave his mind to write,
Thought it his only business, that his plays
Should please the people: But it now falls out,
He finds, much otherwise, and wastes, perforce,
His time in writing prologues; not to tell
The argument, but to refute the slanders
Broach'd by the malice of an older bard.

And mark what vices he is charg'd withal!
Menander wrote the Andrian and Perinthian:
Know one, and you know both; in argument
Less diff'rent than in sentiment and style.
What suited with the Andrian he confesses
From the Perinthian he transferr'd, and us'd
For his and this it is these sland'rers blame,
Proving by deep and learned disputation,
That fables should not be contaminated.
Troth! all their knowledge is they nothing know:
Who, blaming him, blame Nævius, Plautus,
Ennius,

Whose great example is his precedent;
Whose negligence he'd wish to emulate
Rather than their dark diligence. Henceforth,
Let them, I give them warning, be at peace,
And cease to rail, lest they be made to know
Their own misdeeds. Be favourable! sit
With equal mind, and hear our play; that hence
Ye may conclude, what hope to entertain,
The comedies he may hereafter write
Shall merit approbation or contempt.

And not without good cause. For this I hold to be the golden rule Of life, too much of one thing's good for nothing. Sim. So did he shape his life to bear himself With ease and frank good-humour unto all; Mixt in what company soe er,. to them He wholly did resign himself; and join'd In their pursuits, opposing nobody, Nor e'er assuming to himself: and thus With ease, and free from envy, may you gain Praise, and conciliate friends.

Sos.

He rul'd his life By prudent maxims: for as times go now, Compliance raises friends, and truth breeds hate,

Sim. Meanwhile, 'tis now about three years

ago,

A certain woman from the isle of Andros, Came o'er to settle in this neighbourhood, By poverty and cruel kindred driv`n: Handsome and young.

Sos.

Ah! I begin to fear Some mischief from this Andrian.

At first

Sim. Modest and thriftily, though poor, she liv'd, With her own hands a homely livelihood Scarce earning from the distaff and the loom. But when a lover came, with promis'd gold, Another, and another, as the mind Falls easily from labour to delight, She took their offers, and set up the trade.

They, who were then her chief gallants, by It struck my mind; So! so! the secret's out;

chance

Drew thither, as oft happens with young men,
My son to join their company. So, so!
Said I within myself, he's smit! he has it!
And in the morning as I saw their servants
Run to and fro, I'd often call, Here, boy!
Prithee, now, who had Chrysis yesterday?
The name of this same Andrian.

Sos.
I take you.
Sim. Phædrus, they said, Clinia, or Niceratus,
For all these three then follow'd her.-Well,
well,

But what of Pamphilus ?-Of Pamphilus!
He supt, and paid his reck'ning.—I was glad.
Another day I made the like inquiry,
But still found nothing touching Pamphilus.
Thus I believ'd his virtue prov'd, and hence
Thought him a miracle of continence :
For he who struggles with such spirits, yet
Holds in that commerce an unshaken mind,.
May well be trusted with the governance
Of his own conduct. Nor was I alone
Delighted with his life, but all the world
With one accord said all good things, and prais'd
My happy fortunes, who possest a son
So good, so lib'rally dispos'd-In short,
Chremes, seduc'd by this fine character,
Came of his own accord, to offer me
His only daughter with a handsome portion
In marriage with my son. I lik'd the match;
Betroth'd my son; and this was pitch'd upon,
By joint agreement, for the wedding-day.

Sos. And what prevents its being so?
Sim.

In a few days, the treaty still on foot,
This neighbour Chrysis dies.

Hence were those tears, and hence all that com

passion!

Sos. Alas! I fear how this affair will end! Sim. Meanwhile the funeral proceeds: we follow;

Come to the sepulchre; the body's plac'd
Upon the pile; lamented: whereupon
This sister, I was speaking of, all wild,
Ran to the flames with peril of her life.
Then! there! the frighted Pamphilus betrays
His well-dissembled and long-hidden love;
Runs up, and takes her round the waist, and cries,
Oh my Glycerium! what is it you do?
Why, why endeavour to destroy yourself?
Then she in such a manner, that you thence
Might easily perceive their long, long love,
Threw herself back into his arms, and wept,
O how familiarly!

Oh monstrous! he had found that Pamphilus
Was married to this stranger-woman. I
I'll tell you. Deny the fact most steadily, and he
As steadily insists. In short we part
On such bad terms, as let me understand
He would refuse his daughter.
Sos.

Sos.
In happy hour:
Happy for you! I was afraid of Chrysis.
Sim. My son, on this event, was often there
With those who were the late gallants of Chrysis;
Assisted to prepare the funeral,

Ever condol'd, and sometimes wept with them.
This pleased me then: for in myself I thought,
Since merely for a small acquaintance-sake
He takes this woman's death so nearly, what
If he himself had lov'd? What would he feel
For me, his father? All these things, I thought,
Were but the tokens and the offices
Of a humane and tender disposition.
In short, on his account, e'en I myself
Attend the funeral, suspecting yet
No harm.

Sos. And what-
Sim.
You shall hear all. The corpse
Borne forth, we follow; when among the women
Attending there, I chanc'd to cast my eyes
Upon one girl, in form-

Then take your son to task? Sim.

Did not you

Not even this

How so?

Appear'd sufficient for reproof.
Sos.
Sim. Father, (he might have said,) you have,

you know,

Prescrib'd a term to all these things yourself.
The time is near at hand, when I must live
According to the humour of another.
Meanwhile, permit me now to please my own!
Sos. What cause remains to chide him then?
Sim.
If he

Refuses, on account of this amour,
To take a wife, such obstinate denial
Must be considered as his first offence.
Wherefore I now, from this mock-nuptial,
Endeavour to draw real cause to chide:
And that same rascal Davus, if he's plotting,
That he may let his counsel run to waste,
Now, when his knaveries can do no harm:
Who, I believe, with all his might and main
Will strive to cross my purposes; and that
More to plague me, than to oblige my son.
Sos. Why so?

Sim. Why so! Bad mind, bad heart. But if I catch him at his tricks!-But what need words? -If, as I wish it may, it should appear

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