Shakespear Illustrated:
OR THE NOVELS and HISTORIES, On which the PLAYS of SHAKESPEAR Are Founded, COLLECTED and TRANSLATED from the ORIGINAL AUTHORS. WITH CRITICAL REMARKS. BY THE Author of the FEMALE QUIXOTE. VOL. II.
LONDON:
Printed for A. MILLAR in the
Strand.
MDCCLIII.
CONTENTS OF THE SECOND VOLUME.
THE History of
Dorastus
and
Fawnia. 1
Observations on the Use
Shakespear
has made of the foregoing Novel, in his Play called The
Winter's Tale. 71
The Menaechmi of
Plautus. 95
Observations on the Use
Shakespear
has made of the
Menaechmi
of
Plautus,
in his
Comedy of Errors. 219
The Story of
Amleth,
translated from the
Danish
History of
Saxo-Grammaticus. 241
Observations on the Use
Shakespear
has made of the foregoing Story in his Tragedy of
Hamlet. 261
Shakespear Illustrated.
The History of
Dorastus
and
Fawnia.
B EFORE Christianity appeared in the World, there reigned in
Bohemia
a King, named
Pandosto,
who was married to a Princess of exquisite Beauty and consummate Virtue, called
Bellaria.
The Harmony that subsisted between this royal Couple gave the greatest Satisfaction to all their Subjects, whose Happiness was greatly increased by the Felicity of their Sovereigns.
At the End of the first Year of their Marriage
Bellaria
was delivered of a Son, who was named
Garrinter.
The
Bohemians
upon this Occasion made great Rejoicings over all the Kingdom. And the King, as well to express his own Satisfaction at this happy Incident, as to comply with the Desires of the People, appointed Justs and Tournaments in Honour of the young Prince; to which not only many foreign Noblemen resorted, but also several neighbouring Kings and Princes came to exercise their Valour and Judgment at these martial Entertainments.
The Sports lasted twenty Days, during which Time the King made a general Feast for all his Subjects; and the Kings and Princes, who had been royally entertained, returned home to their respective Countries, full of Admiration of the great Magnificence of
Pandosto.
The Smiles of Fortune are seldom sincere or lasting; the fickle Goddess, weary of bestowing Favours upon
Pandosto,
while he was wholly taken up in the Enjoyment of them, prepared a sad reverse of Fate for him and the lovely
Bellaria. Pandosto,
from his earliest Youth, had contracted and maintained a strict Friendship and Correspondence with
Egistus,
the young King of
Sicily.
This Prince being desirous of shewing that neither Time nor Distance of Place could weaken the Force of his Affection for
Pandosto,
resolved to visit him in his own Dominions, to congratulate him upon his Marriage and the Birth of a Son. For this Purpose he ordered a small Fleet to be prepared, and with a small but select Number of Attendants arrived in
Bohemia.
Pandosto
and his Queen, with a numerous Retinue, went to meet
Egistus
at his landing, and carried him to the Palace in the midst of most expensive Shows and magnificent Arches, which had been prepared and erected for his Reception.
Pandosto,
whose Heart overflowed with grateful Transport for this Demonstration of Friendship in
Egistus,
intreated his Queen to shew all imaginable Respect and Esteem to a Prince whom he loved so much, and to whom he was so highly obliged.
The sweet
Bellaria,
who had no other Will but that of her Husband, was easily prevailed upon to comply with a Request to which her own Inclinations naturally incited her, for the noble Qualities she observed in
Egistus
had already produced suitable Effects in a Mind, that being virtuous and sensible to the highest Degree itself, could not chuse but love those Perfections in another.
Bellaria
therefore, as well in Obedience to her Husband's Commands, as in Consequence of the Friendship she had conceived for
Egistus,
gave him every Day a thousand innocent Marks of her Esteem, which that Prince, who admired and loved her Perfections with all the Warmth of a disinterested Friend, did not fail to return with every Instance of Gratitude and Respect.
This mutual Esteem gave rise to an easy Confidence and familiar Intercourse between them; so that
Pandosto
being often engaged with his Ministers in Affairs of State,
Bellaria
and
Egistus
passed away the Time in his Absence in various Discourses and innocent Amusements, all which at first was very pleasing to
Pandosto.
But that unhappy Prince, either because he was conscious of the superior Merit of
Egistus,
or through the natural Bent of his Disposition, began to look with suspicious Eyes on a Friendship and Familiarity which he had been so solicitous to form: Doubtful and uneasy Thoughts arose in his Mind, he reflected on the irressistable Charms of
Bellaria,
and the manly Beauty and noble Qualities of
Egistus,
and thought it impossible that two Persons so formed to please should be insensible to each others Merit.
These Doubts having entered his Mind, he fed his growing Jealousy with continual Observations on the Looks and Words of his Friend and Wife; and prejudiced as he now was, their innocent Familiarity appeared to him to be a convincing Proof of their guilty Passion; Suspicion was now changed to absolute Certainty; he no longer looked upon
Egistus
as his Friend and Guest, but as the Destroyer of his Honour, and the Violater of his Queen.
A violent Hatred succeeded the tender Affection he once bore to
Egistus;
and those Smiles of Love with which he had always been accustomed to behold the charming
Bellaria,
gave Place to sullen Reserve and gloomy Frowns: Racked with the tormenting Remembrance of his fancied Wrongs, the Desire and Hope of Revenge afforded him some Intervals of Ease.
He resolved therefore to poison
Egistus,
and while his Mind was labouring how to execute his cruel Purpose with Security, his Words and Behaviour still wore an Appearance of Friendship and Respect.
Pandosto
had a Cup-bearer, named
Franion,
whom, because he had always shewn an inviolable Attachment to his Person, he believed it would be easy to persuade to execute his purposed Vengeance on the King of
Sicily.
To this Man therefore the jealous Monarch communicated his ungenerous Design, and promised him a large Reward, if when the next Time that
Egistus
called for Drink at his Table, he would put Poison in his Cup.
Franion
shuddered with Horror at this inhuman Proposition; and with all the Freedom of a good Man and a faithful Subject he endeavoured to dissuade his King from his barbarous Purpose. He represented to him that Murder was an unpardonable Offence to the Gods, and abhorred by all Mankind, that such unnatural Crimes not only drew down the Wrath of Heaven upon the Perpetrators of them, but the Revenge of Men. He urged to him the sacred Laws of Hospitality, that
Egistus
was his Guest, his Friend and Ally; that any Cruelty committed upon his Person would brand his Name with perpetual Infamy, and sow the lasting Seeds of Discord and Hatred between the
Sicilians
and
Bohemians;
and that even his own Subjects would murmur at such an unexampled Piece of Cruelty and Treachery.
These Arguments had no Force with the determined
Pandosto,
who, persisting still in his cruel Resolution, gave
Franion
his Choice either to poison
Egistus,
and be rewarded with Riches and Honours, or to suffer Death for his Disobedience.
Franion,
staggered by these dreadful Threatnings on one Hand, and allured by those great Promises on the other, told
Pandosto
that he would obey him, and as soon as a fair Opportunity offered he would poison
Egistus.
The King was very well pleased with this Promise, and resolved as soon as his designed Vengeance on
Egistus
was executed, to sacrifice
Bellaria
in the same Manner, to his abused Love and injured Honour.
When the King was departed,
Franion
having no longer that dreadful Object before his Eyes, threatening Death and Torments if he did not murder the innocent Prince, began to reflect seriously upon the horrid Deed he had engaged to perform: Murder he thought, however secretly and securely committed, might for a Time avoid Danger, but never wholly escape Punishment; that no Balm, no Lenitive could heal the Stings of a wounded Conscience, and the Guilt of innocent Blood would always be accompanied with Remorse and Horror.
He reflected that, though he was a Subject, his King had no Right to his Obedience when his Commands were contrary to the express Will and Pleasure of the Gods, to whom he owed a higher Duty.
He considered, that the peaceful Calm of a contented Mind in an humble Condition was preferable to the restless Turbulence of Dignity and Riches, when purchased with Crimes and stained with Blood, and that honest Poverty was infinitely better than shameful Grandeur.
Seeing therefore that he must either die with a clear Mind, or live with a foul and spotted Conscience; his Soul was so perplexed between these two Extremes that he could take no Rest; at last he determined to discover the Affair to
Egistus,
and for that Purpose he went to his Apartments, and desiring a private Audience of the King of
Sicily
he was admitted to his Presence, and in a few Words laid open the whole Conspiracy against him.
The Brave and Generous are not easily induced to believe those they love are capable of Baseness and Ingratitude.
Egistus
judging of
Pandosto
's Heart by the Rectitude of h
s own, told
Franion
with a severe Countenance, that he would not entertain a Thought to the Prejudice of the King of
Bohemia
's Honour.
"Pandosto,
continued he, is my Friend and Ally, no Suspicion has ever yet interrupted our mutual Affection, I did not come here to invade his Territories, to seduce his Subjects from their Allegiance, or to conspire with his Enemies. Since therefore I have given him no Cause to seek my Death, I cannot believe him guilty of so unjust and treacherous a Design; but rather suspect the Information you have given me to be the Effect of a Combination among the
Bohemians,
to create a Variance between me and their King."
Franion
replied, "that it was dangerous to dally with the Rage of an incensed and secret Enemy; that if the
Bohemians
had intended any Harm to him they might easily accomplish it without revealing their Conspiracy; that it was unkind therefore in his Majesty to misconstrue his Zeal for his Preservation into a treacherous Design, for that his Intention was to prevent Treason, not to become a Traitor."
He urged him then to fly with Speed into
Sicily
if he hoped to escape the Danger which threatned him, and begged his Majesty would permit him to go along with him, when if he did not fully prove that
Pandosto
had designed to poison him, he desired that his imagined Treachery might be punished with the most cruel Torments.
Egistus,
weighing the Matter thoroughly in his Mind, gave many Thanks to
Franion,
and promising if he arrived safe in
Sicily
to reward him royally; he desired him to contrive the Method of their Escape.
Franion
went immediately to consult with the Admiral of
Egistus
's Fleet, and it was agreed between them, that it should be put in Readiness to sail as soon as a fair Wind and Opportunity offered.
In the mean Time
Franion
amused
Pandosto
with Hopes of soon having his so much desired Revenge accomplished, telling him that he was employed in preparing and compounding so subtle a Poison, that the Moment it was swallowed would procure immediate Death.
Pandosto
received this News with a malignant Joy, every Hour seeming an Age to his impatient Fury till His Revenge was satiated with the Death of those who had offended him.
Egistus
being informed that a favourable Gale had sprung up, conveyed himself and his
Sicilians,
by the Assistance of
Franion,
out of a Postern Gate of the City, with such Secresy and Expedition, that they got on board their Ships without the least Suspicion, and spreading all their Sails to the Wind soon lost Sight of
Bohemia.
As soon as
Pandosto
was informed that
Egistus
had fled away in the Night, and that
Franion
was gone with him, he let loose all his Rage upon his Queen, whom he accused of conspiring with
Egistus
and the Traitor
Franion,
and commanded she should be led to Prison.
The
Bohemians
were all alarmed, and suspected some Treason; and the furious
Pandosto
believing the Queen not only guilty of dishonouring his Bed, but of projecting the Flight of
Egistus,
sent his Guards with Orders to seize her.
The innocent
Bellaria
not expecting the impending Storm, was playing with her little Son
Garrinter,
when the Guards, with much Reluctance, came to execute the King's Demands.
The Queen was at first astonished and turned pale, but recollecting herself, and assuming all the noble Pride of conscious Innocence and affronted Virtue, she gave her Hand to the Captain of the Guard, and without murmuring, suffered him to lead her to her Prison, where she spent the Time in patient Sorrow and absolute Resignation.
Pandosto,
mad with the Disappointment of his Revenge upon
Egistus,
resolved it should fall doubly heavy on the Head of the injured
Bellaria,
he therefore caused it to be proclaimed throughout all his Dominions, that the Queen had committed Adultery with
Egistus,
and with his Cup-bearer,
Franion,
had conspired his Death.
Though the Queen's Life had hitherto appeared blameless, yet this confident Proclamation, and the Flight of the King of
Sicily
and
Franion,
raised many Suspicions against her in the Minds of the People, who notwithstanding daily offered up Prayers for her Deliverance.
Her Youth, her Beauty, the Sweetness of her Manners, but above all her Misfortunes, excited every one's Compassion.
But the cruel
Pandosto,
in whose rocky Bosom Pity could find no Access, resolved to load the unfortunate
Bellaria
with every Kind of Infamy and Hardship; he would not allow her to be treated in the Prison with the Respect due to the Rank she once held, but caused her to be served and attended with the most cruel Neglect.
The Cruelties he exercised on the Queen did but in Part satisfy his Revenge, he longed to make
Egistus
feel the Weight of his Fury: But this Monarch was so powerful by his Allies, having married the Emperor of
Russia
's Daughter, that he despaired of ever being able by open Force to accomplish his Revenge.
The unhappy Queen being informed of the vile Accusation against her so openly proclaimed, conscious of her own spotless Innocence, and the Integrity of
Egistus,
earnestly intreated that she might be brought to a public Trial, confronted with her Accuser, and allowed to answer for herself.
But the King was so inflamed with Rage and Jealousy that he would not receive her Petition; and while the poor Queen was thus languishing under the Weight of her Calamities, and hopeless of Redress, she perceived herself to be quick with Child.
So affecting an Incident in her melancholy Condition drew Complaints from her, which softening the rugged Temper of her Keeper; he caused the King to be immediately informed of it, not doubting but the News would induce him to set her at Liberty.
The Queen's Pregnancy however produced quite a contrary Effect; for the King no sooner heard of it than starting up in a violent Fury, he swore
Bellaria
and her Bastard should die, even though the Gods themselves should say no.
The Queen, notwithstanding so many cruel Afflictions, was happily delivered of a Daughter; and
Pandosto
immediately declared his Resolution to have both the Mother and Child burnt.
The Noblemen of his Court used all the Arguments their Reason and Humanity could furnish them with, to prevail upon him to change his barbarous Purpose, but all they could do was to prevent the Murder of the Child.
The Queen's Doom he told them was irrevocably fixed, but though at the earnest Solicitations of his Nobles, he promised the Child should not be put to Death, yet the Resolution he took concerning it was little less cruel, since by it he only meant to protract its Faté.
He sent a Person to the Prison with Orders to take the Infant from its wretched Mother, and putting it into a Boat and launching it into the Sea, leave it to the Mercy of the Wind and Waves.
The Guards who assisted at this barbarous Deed, moved by the sweet Countenance of the innocent Babe, could not help accusing the King of great Cruelty; nevertheless Fear of his Resentment obliged them to execute his Commands.
They put the Child into a Boat, covering it with Boughs to preserve it from the Inclemency of the Weather, and set it into the Ocean, when immediately so great a Storm arose, that it was with much Difficulty they got to shore again.
This horrid Deed accomplished, the King assembled his Nobles and Counsellors, and
Bellaria
was brought into Court, where she heard the Charge against her read.
The Queen, who saw nothing but her Death would satisfy the incensed King, confiding in her own Innocence, assumed all the Courage her unhappy Condition required, and with a noble Haughtiness demanded to have Law and Justice; "for Mercy, said she, I do not expect; let my Accusers therefore appear in Court, and give their Evidences before my Face."
Pandosto
replied, "that the Witnesses were of such Credit that their Words alone were sufficient; that for her, indeed it was her Part to deny such a monstrous Crime, and forswear herself, seeing that she had overcome all Sense of Shame and Remorse in committing it; nevertheless, added he, you shall die, and die a most cruel and ignominious Death."
The Queen, not terrified by these Threats, replied without any Emotion, "that to proceed to Punishment without Proof, was Rigour, not Law."
The Nobles approved of what she said, and required that her Accusers should be sworn and openly examined; and if the Queen's Guilt was fully proved, his Majesty might condemn her to suffer the Punishment ordained by the Law for such Offences.
The King answered, "that in this Case he could and would dispense with the Law, and that the Nobles should take his Word for sufficient Evidence, otherwise he would make the proudest of them repent it.
This Threat struck them all dumb, but
Bellaria,
who despaired of Life, and dreaded Infamy more than Death, said, "if his Will must be the Law, the Jury's Verdict will be useless: Then falling on her Knees, she conjured the King by the Love he bore to the young Prince
Garrinter
his Son, that he would grant her one Request, which was to send six of his Nobles, in whom he placed the greatest Confidence, to the Island of
Delphos,
and there consult the Oracle of
Apollo
concerning the Crimes she was accused of."
Pandosto
could not refuse so reasonable a Request, and having named six Embassadors to be dispatched with all Speed to
Delphos,
he committed the Queen to close Imprisonment till their Return.
The Ambassadors performed their Voyage in three Weeks, and as soon as they landed at
Delphos,
they went to the Temple of
Apollo,
and with great Devotion offered Sacrifices to the God, and Gifts to his Priests, according to Custom, and then humbly besought an Answer to their Demands.
They had not kneeled long at the Altar, when
Apollo
with a loud Vice said,
"Bohemians,
what you find behind the Altar take and depart;" they obeyed the Oracle, and found a Scroll of Parchment, which the Priest commanded them not to open but in the Presence of the King.
The Ambassadors assured him of their exact Obedience to his Injunctions, and their Devotions being finished they left the Temple, and sailed with a fair Wind for
Bohemia,
where they soon arrived, and hastened to Court.
Pandosto
received them very graciously, and they after giving him an Account of their Voyage, presented the divine Scroll to him, intreating him at the same Time, since the Queen's Life or Death, her Innocence or Guilt, was contained in that sacred Writing, that he would summon the Nobility to meet in the Judgment Hall, and before them and the accused Queen cause the Oracle to be read.
The King approved of their Advice, and on the Day appointed the King and the Nobles being all assembled in the Court, the Queen was brought to the Bar, and thus spoke.
"How I have led my Life before
Egistus
came into
Bohemia,
I appeal,
Pandosto,
to thy Conscience, and to the immortal Gods; they only know whether I am guilty of the Crimes whereof I am accused; for me, I here protest my Innocence, and for the Truth of what I say, I refer myself to the divine Oracle.
Here
Bellaria
being silent, the King commanded one of his Nobles to open the Scroll, which he did, and read aloud the following Words, which were written in Letters of Gold.
The ORACLE.
"Suspicion is no Proof; Jealousy is a partial Judge;
Bellaria
is chaste,
Egistus
blameless,
Franion
a true Subject;
Pandosto
treacherous; his Babe innocent, and the King shall die without an Heir, if that which is lost be not found."
After the Oracle was read the Court resounded with joyful Acclamations; the Queen's Innocence thus manifested, filled every Heart with Transport.
The King beginning now to be ashamed of his rash Jealousy and unjust Suspicions, not daring to approach the wronged
Bellaria,
desired his Nobles to implore her to forgive the Injuries he had offered her; and stung with Remorse and Horror at his past Actions, he publickly confessed his Design against the Life of
Egistus.
While he was thus laying open his own Treachery, a Messenger came hastily into the Court, and informed the King that the Prince
Garrinter
was dead.
Bellaria,
whose Soul had been overwhelmed with Joy by the divine Oracle, which had declared her Innocence, was seized with such an Excess of Sorrow at these dreadful Tidings, that her tender Heart, not able to support the Force of these contrary Extreams, burst with the mighty Weight, and sinking down she expired in a Moment.
The King became senseless at this dreadful Sight, and being carried to the Palace, notwithstanding all the Endeavours of the Physicians he lay speechless three Days.
The
Bohemians
were in the utmost Despair, nothing but Mourning and Complaints were to be seen and heard; the Death of the Queen and Prince, and the extream Danger the King was in, filled the whole City with Grief and Consternation; at length he recovered his Senses and his Speech, and this News in some Measure revived the drooping
Bohemians.
But the King's Despair was so violent that he attempted to murder himself, and was with Difficulty prevented by his Nobles, who used all the Arguments they could think of to calm his Mind and perswade him to bear his Misfortunes patiently.
Their dutiful Cares at last succeeded, the King grew more patient and resigned, and gave Orders for the Interment of his Queen and Son, which was performed in the most solemn and splendid Manner.
Once in every Day he went to
Bellaria
's Tomb, and with Tears of Penitence and Sorrow lamented her unhappy Fate, and his own Misfortunes.
Here we must leave this distressed Prince for a while, to relate what befell the Royal Infant whom we left floating on the Ocean.
The Boat in which it was laid being tost for two Days with the Wind and Sea, and every Moment ready to perish in the Waves; it pleased the Gods to direct it at last to the Coast of
Sicily,
where it was drove on Shore.
It fortunately happened that a Shepherd who had missed one of his Sheep, not finding it in any of the Covers hard by, came to the Sea-side in Hopes it was there browsing on the Sea-Ivy, and hearing the Voice of a Child, which he at first mistook for the Bleating of a Sheep, went to the Sands and saw a Boat driven on Ground; he immediately waded towards it, and discovered a most beautiful Babe lying at the Bottom, wrapt in a Scarlet Mantle embroidered with Gold, and a Chain of rich Jewels about its Neck.
The Shepherd, astonished at this Adventure, beholding the Beauty of the Infant, and the Riches that were about it, began to think it was some little Divinity, and was going to adore it; when the weak Cries of the Child, who seemed to be just perishing with Cold and Hunger, persuaded him it was a meer Mortal.
Compassion took the Place of Reverence; he approached the Child, took it into his Arms, and supposing by the extraordinary Magnificence of its Dress that it was of noble Birth, he resolved to carry it to the King.
As he was wrapping the Mantle close about it to preserve it better from the Cold, a Bag of Money fell from it at his Feet; which he takeing up, was so captivated with the Sight, that changing his Design he determined to breed up the Infant himself, and apply the Money to his own Use; then returned a bye Way to his Cottage lest any one should perceive what he carried in his Arms.
As soon as he entered the Door the Child began to cry; which alarming his Wife, who supposed he was bringing home a Bastard to nurse, she rated him very severely for his Infidelity.
The Shepherd begged her to be pacified, and told her if she would be secret and cautious their Fortunes were made for ever; then putting the Child in her Arms he produced the Gold and Jewels he found with it, which so pleased the poor Woman that she resolved to nurse the Child carefully, and make their Neighbours believe it was their own.
The Gold and Jewels they concealed, and the Shepherd returned to the Care of his Flocks, while his Wife employed herself in nursing the Foundling, to whom they gave the Name of
Fawnia.
In a few Years after the Shepherd purchased a good Farm, and from tending the Flocks of other People became Master of a considerable one himself.
When
Fawnia
arrived at the Age of ten Years,
Porrus
and
Mopsa,
for so her supposed Father and Mother were called, committed the Care of their Flocks; to her, and the young Shepherdess, whose Beauty at those early Years was the Astonishment and Admiration of all that beheld her, applied herself with the utmost Diligence to her pastoral Employment, so that every Thing prospered under her Hands.
Porrus
now purchased Land, which he designed to leave
Fawnia
at his Death; and she growing to fifteen Years old, many of the rich Farmer's Sons made their Addresses to her.
The fair Shepherdess was not the only Admiration and Wonder of the Country, her Wit and Judgment was equal to her Beauty, and those uncommon Charms of Mind and Person made her even be talked of at Court.
She who believed herself to be the Daughter of
Porrus,
was not elated with the Praises that were bestowed on her, but with a sweet Humility conformed to the Lowliness of her Condition, and tended her Flocks with the utmost Diligence and Care.
Though she was not vain of the Graces of her Person, yet her rural Habit was always exactly neat, her lovely Hair was bound up with a graceful Negligence, and she took Care to choose the freshest and most becoming Flowers to compose the Garland which shaded her charming Face from the Sun.
The King of
Sicily
had only one Son, named
Dorastus,
a beautiful and accomplished Youth, of whom the
Sicilians
had great Hopes.
The King, desirous of seeing him married before he died, sent an Ambassador to the King of
Denmark
to demand the Princess
Euphania
his Daughter, and the Heir to his Dominions, in Marriage for the Prince of
Sicily.
The King of
Denmark
agreeing to the Proposal,
Egistus
acquainted his Son with the Treaty he had entered into; he enlarged on the Beauty and Virtues of the Princess
Euphania,
on the Advantages of an Alliance with the King of
Denmark,
and concluded with praising the Gods for the happy Success of his Negociation.
Dorastus
heard all this with such apparent Indifference that the King was amazed, and asked him if he had any Objection to the Match?
The Prince answered coldly, "That his Heart was yet a Stranger to Love, that all Women were indifferent to him, and that Marriage was an Engagement he had no Inclination to enter into."
The King, extremely offended with this Reply, threatened him with the severest Effects of his Displeasure if he did not endeavour to conform to his Will; and finding the Prince continued in a sullen Silence, and would give him no Satisfaction, he quitted him in great Displeasure.
Dorastus
was sensibly afflicted at his Father's Anger, and ardently wished he could conquer that Repugnance he felt in his Soul to Marriage, that he might not offend him by an absolute Refusal; but the more he struggled to overcome that Dislike which forced him to seem disobedient to his Father, the deeper he found it rooted in his Breast.
A short Time after this Discourse had passed between the King and the Prince, there happened to be a Meeting of all the Shepherds Daughters in
Sicily.
Fawnia
was chosen Queen for the Day, and drest in her best Cloaths presided over their rural Sports; the Day being past in such innocent Diversions as Shepherdesses, when Evening approached they separated, and
Fawnia
desiring a neighbouring Sheperdess to go with her to see if her Flock was folded,
Dorastus,
who was returning from Hawking, met the two Virgins as they were going home, and struck with Admiration at the Beauty of
Fawnia,
he stopt and asked her several trifling Questions, in order to have an Opportunity of gazing on her.
Fawnia
aswered him with so much sprightly Wit and so graceful an Air, that the Prince already half vanquished by the Charms of her Person, was wholly subdued by those of her Mind. Love, offended at the former Obstinacy of this young Rebel, resolved now to make him feel the utmost Effects of his Power, and with the keenest Arrow in his Quiver, pierced that once insensible Heart.
The Prince sighed with Pain and Pleasure; he could not remove his Eyes from the lovely Face of
Fawnia,
which was all overspread with a rosy Blush; he saw her Confusion, and ashamed of his own Weakness he resolved to force himself away, and clapping Spurs to his Horse he hastily bid the Shepherdesses farewel, and rode home to the Palace.
Fawnia,
who had surveyed the Prince with a curious Eye, began as soon as he was gone
o praise him to her Companion; she admired his Youth, his Beauty, his sweet Affability: The pleasing Theme transported her beyond her usual Moderation, her Thoughts were full of the Prince's Perfections, she could not find Words sufficient to express her Admiration; she perceived at length, and blushed at, her Indiscretion, and remained silent and composed during the rest of their Walk.
She took Leave of her Companion at the Door of her Cottage, and retired to Bed full of a pleasing Anxiety for which her inexperienced Innocence could not yet find a Name.
The Prince, whose Mind was still more restless and uneasy than
Fawnia
's, because he better understood the nature of his Distemper, passed the Night in various and tormenting Thoughts: Fain would he have banished the sweet Image of
Fawnia
from his Remembrance, but Love had engraved it too deeply in his Heart, and finding his Endeavours to forget her fruitless, he sought to excuse and justify his Passion, by reflecting on the inevitable Charms of her that caused it.
"Oh, cruel! oh, injurious Fortune! cried he, transported with the bright Idea, to hide such Perfection in a Cottage, and lavish Crowns and Scepters often on Deformity."
"Oh!
Fawnia,
was that inchanting Form made only to grace the Fields? were these bright Eyes ordained to shine in humble Vales, and only bless rude Swains with their Love darting Beams? was that sprightly Wit and those native Graces of thy Mind given thee to be for ever clouded in a Cottage?"
"Ah! no, it cannot be, the Gods are just and equal in their Dispensations, and though they did not make you born a Princess, they did more, and made you deserving to be one; I am their Instrument to raise you to the Rank for which Nature designed you, and which no other can so worthily fill.
The amorous Prince paused at these Words, then suddenly giving Way to new Reflexions, "How would it please my Father, cried he, to know that my Heart is capable of Love? oh! divine Law, feared by all Men, because honoured by the Gods themselves."
"But alas!
Dorastus,
added he, breathing a deep and dreadful Sigh, who is it that is the Object of thy Passion? a rural Maid, the Daughter of a simple Shepherd. Does this Match suit with the Dignity of thy Birth? thou who art the Son of a King, and Heir to a powerful Kingdom. Ah! let me rather die than poorly submit to such a shameful Weakness; for 'tis better to perish nobly than to live with Contempt."
The wavering Prince, resting a while upon this thought, endeavoured to collect his whole Force of Reason to support a Resolution which seemed worthy of himself; but Love, who laughed at all his vain Attempts to elude his Power, again imprest the lovely Image of
Fawnia
upon his Fancy.
"Oh! Beauty, said the sighing Prince, how absolute is thy Empire over the Heart! sweet and imperious Tyrant thou shalt be obeyed, I yield to thy irresistable Force; yes
Fawnia,
lovely and adorable
Fawnia,
thou shalt be mine, thy humble Birth shall be no Obstacle to my Desires."
"The Gods themselves have not disdained to love;
Jupiter
was enamoured of
Danaë,
and the bright
Apollo
woed the inexorable
Daphne;
these were mortal Beauties, and they were Deities; why then, though a Prince, may not I love a Shepherdess? but their Passions were dishonourable, mine is pure and chaste, 'tis true, and herein I surpass the Gods: Be still then, oh my Soul, for 'tis decreed
Fawnia,
the adorable
Fawnia
shall be mine."
The Prince having thus taken his Resolution, his Mind grew easy and composed, but it was far otherwise with the charming Shepherdess, strange and unusual Dreams perplexed her roving Fancy the whole Night.
That homely Couch, which before had only supplied calm and unrufled Slumbers, and chearful Dreams of pleasant Labour and innocent Amusements past, now gave Birth to anxious Wishes, delusive Hopes, and uneasy Repinings.
She awaked, but not as usual refreshed with her Repose; her renewed Spirits sparkling in her chearful Eyes, and eager to begin the rural Labours of the Day, but heavy, languishing, and full of uneasy Perturbations, she rose before her wonted Hour, and thinking to banish the various Thoughts which tormented her by industrious Toils; she drove her Flocks to the Field, shifted the Folds, and doubled her Morning's Work; at last fatigued and breathless she sat down at the Foot of a Tree, and thus began to accuse the Folly and Presumption of her new Passion.
"Unfortunate
Fawnia!
said she softly sighing, thy Shepherdess's Hook expresses thy mean Condition, and thy Desires shew thy aspiring Mind: Ah! simple Maid, Thoughts above Fortune bring Contempt, 'tis for the Eagle only to gaze on the Sun, art thou not a poor Shepherdess? the Daughter of a Country Swain? be content then to stand securely in the Vale, and do not by endeavouring to climb the Hills hazard the Danger of a Fall: But oh! Love is a powerful Lord and will be obeyed. I love
Dorastus,
ah! the more wretched I, the less Cause I have to hope: Will Eagles catch at Flies? or Cedars stoop to Brambles?
Dorastus
is a Prince, and knows what his Station requires of him, I am the poor Daughter of a Shepherd, and forget my humble Condition."
"Cease then to love unhappy
Fawnia,
or if thou canst not do that, conceal at least thy wrong placed Passion, for it is better to die with Grief than live with Shame; but oh, Gods! why did you give me a Soul capable of the most exalted Passion? and yet place me in a Condition which makes that Passion Presumption?"
The lovely Shepherdess having thus given Vent to her uneasy Thoughts, rose up and began to walk round her Flock, gathering up he straggling Sheep to prevent them from go
ng among the Corn, and while she was thus employed, endeavoured to conquer her too much raised Desires, by contemplating her mean Estate, and the apparent Impossibility of ever accomplishing her Wishes.
Mean Time
Dorastus,
consumed away with impatient Desire, his former Pleasures now grew tasteless to his Sense, Company was tedious, Music only soothed his sweet Disorder, and added Fewel to his Fires.
Weary at length of the intolerable Restraint his Pride had forced him to lay upon his Wishes, he resolved to satisfy his longing Eyes with another Sight of the sweet, but dangerous
Fawnia.
For this Purpose he stole secretly out of the Palace, and without any Attendants took his Way to the Fields where he had first seen the beauteous Shepherdess
Fawnia.
There he walked some Time without meeting with the Object his passionate Eyes were every where in Search of. Enraged at his Disappointment, a thousand Times he curst both Love and Fortune, and just as he was resigning himself to the most bitter Despair for his ill Success in this first Attempt, a casual Glance discovered
Fawnia
to him, sitting on the Side of a Hill, selecting the most beautiful Flowers out of a large Heap, which in sweet Confusion were scattered about her to make a fresh Garland for her Head.
The passionate Prince stood at a little Distance for some Moments, contemplating her with an Excess of Wonder and Delight, when
Fawnia
happening to look up, she met his ardent Gaze, and this sudden and unexpected Sight gave her so much Emotion, that her fair Face was in an Instant dyed with a rosy Blush.
She rose however from her Seat and curt'sied to the Prince, but with such native Elegance and Grace, that
Dorastus,
who could not conceive how a Country Maid bred up in the Fields and Woods could have so much Politeness in her Manner, was lost in Astonishment and Admiration.
"Fair Virgin, said he approaching her, either your Poverty is great, or the Life of a Shepherdess is very sweet, that you can take such Delight in rural Labours, is it because you are so like a Nymph that you resolve to imitate the Nymphs, and waste your Days in Woods and Lawns? Tell me, sweet Maid, what Pleasures are there in a Country Life to balance
ts Fatigue?"
"Sir, said
Fawnia,
with an inchanting Bashfulness, to be contented is to be rich, that Condition is most to be coveted in which
here is most Tranquility; as we Shepherdesses are not born to Honour, and little beholden
o Beauty, so Fame or Fortune is beneath our Care; we are not solicitous for any Thing
ut the Necessaries of Life; we think our Rayment fine, if it preserves us sufficiently from the cold, and our Food dainty if it suffices Appetite; our greatest Enemy is the Wolf, and our Chief Care is to keep our Flocks in Security; we spend the Day in rural Songs, and delight more in talking of Pan and Country Sports, than
Venus
and her trifling Toys; our Toil is to shift our Folds, but the attending our Flocks is only an agreeable Amusement; our Wealth consists in not desiring more than we possess; our Honour in not aiming to be higher than we are; Envy looks not so low as a Shepherd; Shepherds do not raise their Thoughts to Ambition, we are rich because we are content with our Poverty, and proud only in knowing we have no Cause to be proud."
Dorastus
was charmed with this sprightly Answer: Oh! thought he, if this fair Creature's Birth was equal to her Wit and Beauty, she would be a Wife for the greatest Prince in the World.
"I perceive,
Fawnia,
said the Prince, addressing himself to her again, that 'tis owing to your not being acquainted with the Enjoyments of a Court, that you are so contented with a Country Life; I commend your Wit and Prudence, but I pity your Poverty and low Condition. Will you forsake your Father's Cottage, and attend on a Lady a
Court?"
"'Tis dangerous, Sir, answered
Fawnia
to tempt Fortune; she is a fickle Goddess and often raises poor Mortals only to throw them down again: I was born to toil for the Court, and not live in it, and am entirely satisfied with my present Condition."
"Ah!
Fawnia,
said
Dorastus,
with a Sigh he could not suppress, I guess the Cause of your Fondness for a rural Life, you love a Country Shepherd."
"Sir, replied
Fawnia,
smiling, pardon me if I tell you, you have not guessed right: Shepherds! alas, they cannot love they are so simple, and Maids must not if they are no older than I am."
"In my Opinion, pretty one, said the Prince, Maids ought to love because they are young, Cupid is a Child, and the Goddess of Love is painted young?"
"Age may indeed be painted with false Colours, said
Fawnia,
and Youth may have Actions too forward but what Art too little conceals in one, Ignorance reveals in the other."
Dorastus,
who thought this Conversation the most pleasing of any he ever had, would have perhaps drawn it out to a considerable Length, but perceiving some of his Attendants approaching, he was willing to know a little more of her Heart before he parted from her.
"Perhaps,
Fawnia,
said he, taking her Hand, I love thee; if so you must needs yield me your Heart, for I am a Prince you know, and may command you."
"I acknowledge your Power, Sir, said
Fawnia,
in all just and reasonable Things, but with Submission, I must say my Heart is only at my own Disposal; constrained Love is Force, and Force you have no Right to use over me: and believe me, it is not a vain Beast I make, when I tell you that poor as I am I set so great a Value upon my Chastity, that I would rather die than be the Mistress of the greatest King upon Earth, and my Birth is so mean and groveling that I am not fit to be a Farmer's Wife."
The lovely Shepherdess ended these Words with a Sigh, which escaped her unawares.
The Prince, after a little Pause, replied, "It seems then,
Fawnia,
that you cannot love
Dorastus."
"Yes, said
Fawnia
precipitately, when
Dorastus
becomes a Shepherd."
The Prince's Attendants being now come near, he hastily went to meet them, leaving
Fawnia
alone and pensive, her Imagination filled with a thousand new Ideas.
She seated herself again at the Foot of the Hill, revolving in her Mind all the Prince had said to her, and this second View of him, together with the Affability of his Behaviour, and some flattering Hopes she began to entertain, entirely compleated the Conquest of her Heart.
For some Moments she resigned herself up to the most soothing Reflexions, but when the Lowness of her Condition rushed upon her Thoughts, and broke the sweet Delusion she was so fond of, then she began to blame the Extravagance of her Wishes, and tried to recollect her scattered Reason.
"Ah!
Fawnia,
whispered she, why dost thou gaze at the Sun and grasp at Wind? Stars are to be beheld at a Distance, not aimed to be touched with the Hand; Hopes are to be measured by Fortune, not impelled by Desire, and Falls come by climbing high, not by sitting low. But what then? added she after a little Pause, must all fall who endeavour to rise because some do? no, Happiness comes by Chance, and Fortune winds those Threads which the Destinies spin. Alas! what strange Perplexity am I in, favoured by a Prince, yet obliged through Prudence to reject that Favour, Denial in my Words, and Desire at the bottom of my Heart; I love
Dorastus,
yet I seem displeased with his Courtship. Ah! 'tis our Sex's Fault to fly from those we eagerly wish to meet. But take Heed,
Fawnia,
said she sighing, for if the Prince is repulsed by thy Shyness, thou wilt severely repent; for unless he loves thou must die. Ah! die then, simple Maid, for
Dorastus
only jests with thee,
Dorastus
cannot stoop to love a Shepherdess; sit down then in thy Sorrow, and pine in secret. Ah me! how am I changed? I was wont to pass away my Days in chearful Songs, now I waste them in Sighs and Complaints."
While
Fawnia
was thus giving Vent to the tender Anxieties of her Soul, the Approach of Night put her in Mind that it was Time to put her Sheep in the Fold, which having done with a heavy Heart, she hastened to her poor Cottage.
While Love made this Havock in the innocent Breast of
Fawnia,
he raged with such Violence in the Heart of the passionate Prince, in which the Pride of royal Birth maintained an unequal Conflict, that sinking under the Force of those contrary Passions, he became a Prey to Melancholy and Despair; he loathed his Food, Sleep fled from his Eyes, he grew pale and wan, and fell into a languishing Disease.
The King, amazed at the Alteration in his Son, and trembling for his Life, ordered the Attendance of the ablest Physicians in his Kingdom; but their Art was all in vain.
The Prince himself grew apprehensive of the Danger he was in, he found he could not live without
Fawnia,
and thought it great Folly to die for what it was in his Power to obtain; Honour long opposed the Gratification of his Desires, but Love, resistless Love, at Length prevailed.
The Prince, wholly abandoning himself to the Power of this sweet Tyrant, procured a Shepherd's Habit and a Crook, and making them to be conveyed to a secret Place, he went privately out of the Palace, and attiring himself in those rural Weeds, took his Way to the Place where his charming Shepherdess fed her Flocks.
As he went along some uneasy Reflexions arose in his Mind when he surveyed his homely Dress.
"Ah!
Dorastus,
said he to himself, what a strange Alteration is here, a Prince transformed to a Peasant! does this wild Folly suit with the Dignity of thy Birth? but indeed thy Habit suits well with thy groveling Thoughts; this is thy proper Dress, thou wert always disguised before. Oh! Gods, for what Crime am I assigned this Penance? Oh! Love, what a fond Ideot hast thou made of me?"
"Yet why should I blush at this Disguise? have not the heavenly Deities descended to Earth, and changed their glorious Forms for Love? Love made
Jupiter
a Bull,
Neptune
a Ram, and
Apollo,
like myself, a Shepherd. If they who were Gods submitted to that all-compelling Power, shall I, who am a Mortal, dare to rebel against it."
While the Prince was thus justifying the strange Effects of his Passion by those great Examples, he spied
Fawnia
at a Distance, running after one of her Sheep which had strayed from the rest: The Sight of that lovely Face supprest in a Moment all other Emotions but those of Love and Joy.
He flew towards her, and she, who did not know him in that Disguise, but thought it was some genteel young Shepherd coming to meet her, secretly wished it had been her Lot to have placed her Affections upon such a one, whom with Reason she might have loved, and hoped to have obtained.
The Prince's nearer Approach convinced her of her Mistake, she sighed and blushed with Pleasure and Surprize, and stopping curt'sied to him with her usual Gracefulness.
Dorastus
taking her Hand, prest it with passionate Tenderness to his Heart, and then fixing an ardent Kiss upon it, begged her to sit down and listen to him a few Moments.
The lovely Shepherdess, trembling with the mixed Emotions which Love, Hope, and Fear excited in her Soul, sat down with him under the Shade of a spreading Oak, and the Prince, after gazing on her for some Time with a fixed Attention, thus spoke.
"You wonder
Fawnia,
no Doubt, at my strange Apparel, but if you knew my Thoughts you'd wonder more, the one indeed disgraces my outward Shape, but the others disturb my Mind."
"I love you,
Fawnia,
for how can I do otherways? formed as you are to inspire all who see you, with that Passion. You promised to love me when I became a Shepherd, behold your Prince transformed to a Country Swain. Now then I claim the Performance of your Promise since I have fulfilled your Desire."
"'Tis true, my Lord, said
Fawnia,
you are changed in Appearance, but 'tis in Appearance only; painted Eagles are not Eagles, and Zuexis' Grapes, as I have read, were only Painted Grapes; rich Ornaments do not make Princes, nor rural Weeds a Swain; Shepherds are not called so because they wear pastoral Attire, and have a Crook and Scrip, but because they attend their Flocks, and take Care of their rural Affairs; this Apparel therefore has not made a Shepherd of a Prince, but makes a Prince appear like a Shepherd."
"Had I been born a Shepherd, replied
Dorastus,
I should have loved you willingly, and being a Prince I am constrained to love you, do not then with an unseasonable Coyness reject a Passion which you only could have inspired, now is your Time to love and be beloved, while that sweet Bloom glows in your charming Face, and every Feature smiles with the Gaiety of Youth. Have you not observed the Fate of these beautiful Flowers with which you so often adorn your lovely Hair, they bud, they bloom, they wither and are neglected; such is your Beauty
Fawnia;
in Youth it is praised, admired, and coveted, in Age forgotten and despised, yield then to virtuous Love, for notwithstanding the Inequality of our Conditions, I mean to make you my Wife."
"Fawnia,
transported with Surprize and Joy at this unhoped for Declaration, no longer kept up her forced Indifference, but beholding the Prince with a languishing Sweetness, her Face being all o'erspread with Blushes, "Ah! my Lord, said she, I am ashamed to discover the Thoughts which have long filled my Mind: Ought I, Beggar as I am, to own my Desires have reached at a Prince? Oh!
Dorastus!
I dare not say I love you, because you are the Son of a great King, and I am a poor Shepherdess, but the Gods know how I have honoured
Dorastus!
receive then my humble, my dutiful Affection, and look on me as your Handmaid, ever ready to obey your Will in all Things which are not prejudicial to my Honour.
Dorastus,
overjoyed at this sweet and modest Confession of her Love for him, embraced her with a passionate Tenderness, calling all the Gods to witness the Vows he made her of everlasting Love and Fidelity, and now the Lovers began to consult upon the Measures they should take to be united for ever.
Dorastus,
who knew his Father would be excessively enraged at such a Match, told
Fawnia
there could be no Safety for them in
Sicily,
and that therefore he would provide a sufficient Quantity of Money and Jewels to support them till some favourable Change happened in their Affairs, and with the Treasure fly into
Italy
and there solemnize their Nuptials.
This Proposal was agreed to with great Joy by
Fawnia,
who trembled at the Thoughts of the King's discovering their Love, believing that nothing less than Death would be inflicted on her for her Presumption: She therefore urged the Prince to make the necessary Preparations for their Flight with the utmost Speed, lest Fortune should cruelly prevent their Intentions.
The Prince, whose eager Passion prompted him no less than her Fears to hasten their Departure, assured her all should be ready in a few Days, and now the approaching Night warning them to depart, he took Leave of
Fawnia
with a tender Embrace, and repairing to the Place where he had left his Cloaths, threw off his Shepherd's Frock and returned to the Palace.
Fawnia
was so transported with the unexpected Tide of good Fortune which had come rushing on her, that for some Time she could hardly persuade herself that all was not a Dream; but when the Tumult of her Joy was a little allayed, and calmer Reflexions succeeding, convinced her of the Reality of her Happiness, she thanked the Gods devoutly for their amazing Bounty to her, and beseeched them to continue their Favour and Protection to her and her beloved Prince.
In the mean time
Dorastus
lost no Opportunity of seeing his lovely Shepherdess; she drove her Flocks to the Fields every Day, and continued to watch them as usual, not from any Delight she now took in her pastoral Employment, but in the dear Hope of seeing her beloved Lord.
Dorastus,
notwithstanding he always came to meet his
Fawnia
in the Habit of a Shepherd, was at last discovered by some that knew him to be the Prince; so that his frequent Visits to
Fawnia
making much Noise among the Country People, some of
Porrus
's Neighbours, out of good Will to the old Shepherd, advised him to keep his Daughter at home, and keep a strict Eye over her, lest by going so often to the Field she should bring him home a young Son at last, for that the young Prince came often to her, and would certainly, if he had not yet, delude her and make her his Concubine.
This News greatly surprized and alarmed the good old Man, who, after thanking his Neighbours for their kind Informations, hastened home to his Wife, and calling her aside, and wringing his Hands, the Tears fast falling down his aged Cheeks, "O Wife! said he, I fear, I fear our Daughter
Fawnia
has committed Sin, and that she will buy Repentance at a dear Rate: I have sad News to tell you: My Neighbours tell me that the young Prince
Dorastus
looks upon
Fawnia
with a wistful Eye, and if that is the Case I would not give a Wisp of Straw for her Honesty at the Year's End.
"I tell thee, Wife, that Beauty is a great Snare to entrap young Men, and fair Words and fine Promises are great Enemies to a Maiden's Honesty; the Poor may entreat and be refused, but Princes, if Entreaties won't
o, may command, and then who can resist
hem?
"But it is a hard Case though, said the old Man, sobbing, where the Lust of a Prince is
he Law, and that he should bind poor Folks to that which he himself freely breaks."
"Take heed what you say, said the good Wife, with a sagacious Look; speak no more than you should, lest you hear what you would not; do what you can, but no more than you may; great Streams may be stopped by Art, but not by Force; take Care of yourself, lest by endeavouring to save
Fawnia
's Honesty you lose your own Head: It is dangerous, the Proverb says, to play with edged Tools, and bad to sport with Princes; remember the Wolf had his Skin stripped over his Ears for looking into the Lion's Den."
"You speak like a Fool, said
Porrus,
who could not relish his Wife's sage Council, if the King should hear that
Dorastus
loves our Daughter, his Fury would be such that we might lose our Goods, if not our Lives. A Thought has just now entered my Head, by which I will prevent the King's being offended with us, and perhaps it may not displease the Prince: I will carry the Chain and Jewels I found with
Fawnia
to the King, and confess that she is not my Daughter, and tell him the whole Story of my finding her; the King may perhaps take her under his own Care, and then whatever happens we shall be blameless."
The good Wife was well enough pleased with this Proposal, and it was resolved between them to take the first Opportunity of speaking to the King.
In the mean time,
Dorastus
had communicated his Design of leaving
Sicily
to a faithful Domestic, who had attended his Person from his Childhood, named
Capnio.
This Man at first endeavoured to dissuade him from so rash and dangerous an Enterprize, but finding the Prince determined to depart, he ceased to trouble him with any more fruitless Expostulations, and prepared to assist him in the Prosecution of a Design, which, though he did not approve, he saw it was impossible to prevent, unless by betraying his Master to the King, a Piece of Treachery he could not bring himself to commit, being bound as well by his own Inclinations, as a sacred Oath the Prince had made him take to the contrary.
He therefore with great Secrecy and Expedition provided a Vessel to transport them to
Italy,
and the Prince having furnished himself with a great Quantity of Money and Jewels, gave Orders to
Capnio
to get some rich Apparel for
Fawnia;
the Baggage was all safely conveyed on board, and the Master of the Ship perceiving the Wind likely to be favourable in a few Hours, he gave
Capnio
Notice that they must come on board early the next Morning.
Capnio
having informed the Prince of this, he sent him to
Fawnia
desiring her to be in the Fields by break of Day, where he would meet her and carry her to the Port.
She slept but little that Night: Love, Fear and anxious Expectation kept her waking. At the first Dawn of Light she rose, and unfolding her Sheep, drove them to the Fields, giving many a longing look for her beloved Prince; at last he appeared on Horseback, she ran eagerly to meet him, and he dismounting, after printing a hasty Kiss upon her trembling Lips, took her up behind him, and galloped as fast as possible to the Haven where the Ship lay.
The Sailors perceiving him at a Distance rowed to Shore with their Boat, and taking in the Lovers, carried them safe on board, where we must leave them to see what happened at Land.
Porrus
having heard that the King intended to take the Air that Morning, put on his Holiday Cloaths, and taking the Chain and Jewels he found with
Fawnia
concealed in his Bosom, he took his Way to the Palace, intending to watch the King's coming out, at the Gate.
Fortune, determining to favour the Lovers a little longer, flung
Capnio,
who was hasting to the Port with a Casket, in the old Man's Way.
Capnio
seeing him taking the Road to the Palace, and knowing him to be the Father of
Fawnia,
asked him where he was going so early?
Porrus,
who knew him to be a Courtier, replied, that Prince
Dorastus
had dealt very hardly with him; I have but one Daughter, said the good Man, who, to say the Truth, has some share of Beauty, I have Reason to apprehend the Prince has seduced her, and I am going to complain to his Majesty of this Injury.
Capnio
immediately foreseeing all the fatal Consequences that might attend the old Man's Complaint at that critical Time resolved to prevent it, and therefore began to wheedle him by blaming the Prince for so unworthy a Design, and added, because he was a poor Man and had no Friends to stand by him, himself would assist him in all he could, but, said he, you will lose your Labour if you go to the Palace; for the King designs to take the Air to day on board a Ship that lies in the Harbour, and is already set out; therefore if you will be ruled by me, as I am going to give them Notice of his Majesty's coming that they may be prepared to receive him, I will take you with me, and place you so conveniently, that you shall have all the Liberty you can desire to make your Complaint.
Porrus
thanked his new Friend with great Submission for his proffered Kindness, and went with him to the Port, still complaining of the Prince, but concealed the Chain and Jewels, and mentioned nothing concerning
Fawnia
's being a Foundling.
The Sailors seeing
Capnio,
sent a Boat for him, but now
Porrus
's Heart failed, he began to suspect some Design upon him, and when
Capnio
asked him to go into the Boat he refused, under Pretence of being afraid of the Sea;
Capnio
pressed him, but to no Purpose; whereupon, as there was no Time to be lost, he ordered the Mariners who came in the Boat to carry him in by Force.
Porrus
now saw he was betrayed, but thinking it would be fruitless to cry out or exclaim against his false Friend, he civilly entreated him and the Sailors to be kind to him, and pity his Condition, who was but a poor Man and lived by his Labour, and should be undone if he was absent long from his Flocks.
But they were as deaf to his Entreaties as the Winds and Waves to the Prayers of sinking Mariners, and laughed to see him so much afraid; having reached their Ship they obliged him to go on board, where the first Objects he cast his Eyes on, were the Prince and
Fawnia.
She being drest in rich Apparel, he scarce knew her at first, so much was her native Beauty heightened by the Magnificence of her Cloaths, in which she appeared with such a graceful Ease, that it seemed as if she had never been accustomed to any other.
Porrus
stood gazing on her at a Distance, greatly astonished at what he saw, and wondering where it would end; and the Prince and
Fawnia
who were equally surprized to see him there, eagerly asked
Capnio
for what Purpose he was come?
Capnio
informed them that he met him as he was going to complain to the King of the Injury he suspected the Prince had offered him in the Person of his Daughter, and that he had prevented his Design by Artifice,
nd brought him forcibly to the Ship, adding that it was absolutely necessary they should take him with them to
Italy,
otherwise their Discovery would be inevitable.
The Prince approved this Advice, but
Fawnia,
who loved and respected the old Shepherd as her Father, heard this Resolution with great Concern.
Porrus
understanding that he should be carried from his Wife, his Country, and Friends, into a strange Land, burst into Tears and Complaints, and falling on his Knees, earnestly entreated
Dorastus
to pardon his rash Folly, and permit him to return home, assuring him he would be as secret as the Grave: But the Prince could not be prevailed upon by all his Protestations to hazard the Danger of a Discovery, and though
Fawnia
herself with Tears conjured him to grant her Father's Request, he continued obstinate in his Refusal, assuring her their Ruin was inevitable if he complied:
Fawnia
then applied herself to comfort the old Man as well as she could, and the Ship with a fair Gale pursued her Voyage.
While this passed at Sea,
Egistus,
who intended to hunt that Morning the Prince departed, sent to desire his Son's Company in that Diversion, hoping it would help to remove the Melancholy which had of late hung upon him.
The Gentleman of his Bed-Chamber returned Answer, that the Prince went that Morning very early to walk as he supposed in the Grove as was his daily Custom; whereupon
he King sent some of his Attendants to look
or the Prince in that Place, but they coming
ack without him, the King attended by his No
les, went to the Chace, and after spending the Day, in hunting returned to the Palace; sur
rized at not finding his Son yet come home,
e ordered strict Search to be made for him;
is not appearing that Night filled him with a
housand uneasy Apprehensions, and the next Day Messengers were dispatched all over the
ingdom to seek for him.
The unhappy King at length supposing he
ad fallen a Prey to the wild Beasts in the
orest, ordered several Parties of Horse to
our the Country round, and if possible bring
m some Intelligence of his Fate.
Some of these Men meeting a Fisherman
ear the Sea-side mending his Nets, they en
ired if he had seen or heard any thing of
e Prince, and he very ingenuously told them
at a few Days ago he had seen the Prince,
ith
Fawnia
the Daughter of
Porrus,
the old
hepherd himself, and
Capnio,
all go on board
Ship which instantly put off to Sea.
This News was immediately carried to the
ing, who, full of Surprize and Grief, or
ered the Wife of
Porrus
to be brought before
m, and examined her himself concerning
e Flight of her Husband and Daughter with
s Son.
The old Woman told the King that her
eighbours had informed her Husband the
rince was too familiar with his Daughter, he apprehending something worse would follow, and hearing his Majesty intended to hunt a few Days ago, he rose early in the Morning with an Intention to complain to his Majesty of the Injury he feared the Prince intended to do
Fawnia,
and added, with Tears, that she had never seen her Husband since.
Egistus
perceiving the unfeigned Simplicity with which she told her Tale, dismissed her; but reflected so deeply upon the dishonourable Action his Son had committed, that he fell into a Fever, and continued so weak and ill that his Physicians had no Hopes of his Recovery.
But
Dorastus,
who regarded neither Father, Country nor Crown, now he was in Possession of his beloved
Fawnia,
never troubled himself about the Grief his strange Flight would occasion the King and all the
Sicilians,
but resigned himself wholly up to the Contemplation of his present Happiness, which he would not have quitted for all the Empires in the World.
The Winds for some Time seemed to favour their Flight, and they steered their Course to
Italy
without any Interruption; but one Morning the Sky began to be over-cast with Clouds, the Winds grew high, the Sea swelled, and at last a Storm ensued, which raged during three Days with such unceasing Fury that the Ship was so much damaged the Sailors expected every Moment it would sink.
Poor
Fawnia
was almost dying with her Fears, but the Sight of
Dorastus,
who never left her a Moment, yielded her some Comfort amidst the Horrors of approaching Death: On the fourth Morning the Storm abated, and the Sailors discovered Land, which they soon knew to be the Coast of
Bohemia.
Their confused Shouts of Joy gave
Dorastus
to understand they were in Sight of some Harbour, and with Tears of Joy and Tenderness he congratulated
Fawnia
on their Safety.
But when he was told it was the Coast of
Bohemia
upon which they were driven, remembering the Enmity there was between the King of that Country and his Father, whom he had sought to poison, he was greatly perplexed, not knowing what to do; or whether it was better to trust to the Fury of the Winds and Waves than the Treachery and Cruelty of the inhuman
Pandosto.
Capnio,
who saw it was impossible to expect any Safety at Sea, advised the Prince to conceal his Name and Country and take up his Residence in some small Village till they could procure a Ship to carry them to
Italy.
Dorastus
approved this Scheme, and ordered
Capnio
to bid the Ship's Crew give out that his Name was
Meleagrus,
a Gentleman of
Trapalonia,
and assure them in his Name of a large Reward for their Secrecy.
This done they went on Shore, and hired Lodgings at a Farm House in a Village, a Mile distant from the chief City of
Bohemia
; as soon as they were recovered from the Fatigues they had endured at Sea during the Storm,
Dorastus,
impatient to be united to his beloved
Fawnia,
gave
Capnio
Orders to make Preparations for their Marriage.
But in the mean time the Fame of
Fawnia
's Beauty was spread through all the Village, and from thence reached the City, and at last the Court; nothing was talked of but the lovely Stranger, whose wonderful Beauty was the Subject of general Admiration.
Pandosto,
though at that Time above sixty Years old, was fired with the Reports he continually heard of this young Miracle, and was resolved to see her; and being informed they affected great Privacy, and lodged in a very mean House, he determined to have them seized on Suspicion of their being Spies, and brought before him in order to be examined by himself.
Accordingly he sent a small Party of his Guards to apprehend them, who coming to the House where they lodged, informed them that they must come before the King.
Dorastus,
not in the least daunted by this Message, took
Fawnia
by the Hand, and leaving
Porrus
to take Care of the
Treasure,
followed the Guards together with
Capnio.
Being introduced to the King, they paid their Obeisance to him with a respectful Confidence that might have persuaded him of their Innocence had he really suspected them to have come into his Country with any bad Intention.
But the King, at the first Glance of
Fawnia,
was so astonished at her wonderful Beauty, that, forgetting what he had to do for several Minutes, he stood motionless like a Statue, not able to remove his Eyes from that enchanting Object; recovering himself at last, he turned to
Dorastus,
and asked him sternly who he was, of what Country, and with what Intent he had landed in
Bohemia?
"Sir, said
Dorastus,
with a Countenance unchanged, and a resolute Tone of Voice, my Name is
Meleagrus,
a Knight, born and bred up in
Trapalonia;
this young Woman, whom I intend to make my Wife, is a Native of
Italy,
from whence I brought her; the Reason I have so small a Train, is, that her Friends being unwilling to consent to her Marriage, I took her away privately with an Intent to carry her to
Trapalonia;
as we were sailing a violent Storm arose which drove us upon this Coast, and I propose to stay no longer here than till our Ship is refitted, and put into a Condition to pursue her Voyage."
Pandosto,
either not satisfied, or pretending not to be satisfied, with this Account, rose from his Seat in a Rage;
"Meleagrus,
said he, I am not to be imposed upon by this unlikely Tale; this Lady appears to be of a much higher Quality than you represent her, and by the graceful Loveliness of her Person, fitter to be the Wife of a great Prince, than a simple Knight, as you declare yourself to be."
"You have stolen away this young Lady from her unhappy Parents, like a false Traitor, and as you have made them miserable by your Theft, will, no doubt, shortly make her so too; therefore, till I can be thoroughly informed of her Birth, and till you have produced a Certificate from
Trapalonia
to confirm the Account you have given of yourself, I will detain ye all in
Bohemia."
The noble Mind of
Dorastus
could but ill brook the base Suspicions and injurious Language of
Pandosto,
and almost forgetting the Character he assumed he looked on him with a Frown of Anger and Disdain, and with a haughty Accent thus replied:
"It is unworthy the Honour and Dignity of a Prince to reproach any Man with having committed scandalous Crimes without any Proof of his Guilt, or even Suspicion to form a Belief on; inoffensive Strangers ought to be treated with Kindness and Benevolence, not with Distrust and Cruelty, which is contrary to the Laws of Nations, and the Customs of all civilized People; but the Gods will severely revenge the Cause of those, who, through Inability to right themselves, are obliged to put up with Wrongs and Injuries."
Pandosto
was so enraged at this bold and resolute Language, that he immediately ordered his Guards to carry the audacious Stranger to Prison, and likewise ordered all the Ship's Crew to be put in a close Dungeon. For
Fawnia
he ordered an Apartment in the Palace to be prepared, and recommended her to the Care of some of the Court Ladies.
Dorastus
heard the Order for his Confinement with a contemptuous Silence, and followed the Guards without deigning to cast a Look on the enraged King, and only by a passionate Glance at
Fawnia,
expressed the Anguish of his Soul at being thus torn from her.
She, with streaming Eyes, saw him depart,
nd retiring to the Apartment allotted for her,
esigned herself up to the deepest Despair, and
ontinued wholly insensible of all the Conso
ations that were offered her.
Mean Time
Pandosto
in whose old Bosom Love had again kindled a Flame, lost no Op
ortunity of seeing the beauteous Stranger,
t first, he fancied he was only giving Way to
pleasing Amusement when he sought the
ight and Conversation of
Fawnia,
but he
oon perceived that she was become necessary
o his Happiness.
His restless Anxiety when he was absent
om her, his disordered Wishes when with
er, the Perturbations of his Mind when he
ought of
Meleagrus,
convinced him that
is unknown Virgin had conquered his Heart;
e blushed at his own Weakness; he reflected
n his advanced Age; his exalted Rank; on
er Youth, Beauty, and mean Condition;
d sought for Reasons against his yielding to
e Force of his misplaced Passions, Reasons
found many, but Love was stronger
n them all.
In vain he represented to himself that
Fawnia
loved the unknown Knight, and that a Heart already prepossessed with a young and amiable Object, was not likely to yield to his Sollicitations; his Passion seemed to gather Strength from the Obstacles which opposed it, and he resolved, if Persuasions failed, to make Use of all his Power, to compel
Fawnia
to his Desires.
For this Purpose he sent a Messenger to her one Day when he was walking in a Park behind his Palace, to tell her he wanted to speak to her.
Fawnia
went to him unwillingly, and as she approached, the King taking her Hand walked with her a few Steps, then stopping suddenly, he looked earnestly at her a Moment, and thus spoke.
"Fawnia,
I am charmed with thy
and Beauty, I pity thy distrest Situation, an
am willing to make thy Fortune, provide
thou wilt forsake that despicable Knight wh
brought thee hither. — He is unworthy
possess an Object so lovely, thou art fit for th
Embraces of a King, and if thou wilt yie
to be my Mistress, I will advance thee bo
to Dignity and Riches."
"I little expected, replied
Fawnia,
with noble Disdain, to hear a Proposal so base a
so unworthy the Majesty of a King, fro
Pandosto.
Is it for you Sir, for one of yo
Dignity and Age to attempt to seduce an u
happy Virgin, whom Fortune and your own Injustice has put into your Power? But know, my Lord, that your Endeavours to engage me from
Meleagrus
are all in vain; he won my Heart by honourable Love, and he only shall possess it; my unhappy Fate drove me into your Dominions, where I have been separated from
Meleagrus,
and am persecuted by you; but these Misfortunes cannot lessen my Love, or shake my Constancy. True Love like true Virtue, gathers Strength and Firmness from Distress. No, though your Ma
esty has imprisoned my Lover without any Cause, contrary to all the Laws of Hospita
ity and Justice, and by that Means I am
eft alone and without any Protection in your Court, yet think not that the most terrible Threats, or most alluring Temptations, can make me consent to any Thing that is disho
ourable. I have a noble Mind, though the Gods have been pleased to cover it with ple
ean Clay; I cannot be terrified by Threats,
r soothed by Flatteries into a base Compli
nce, therefore be assured, I would rather
huse to be the Wife of
Meleagrus,
and share
ith him the greatest Miseries that cruel For
ne can inflict, than be the Concubine of
andosto,
and live in all the Splendor he can
estow."
The King, though greatly surprized and
rplexed with this resolute Answer of
Faw
a,
yet would not give over his Solicitati
s; when he found he could not prevail up
her to yield to his Desires by Promises of Wealth and Grandeur to herself, he swore that he would not only set
Meleagrus
at Liberty, but that he would confer Honours and Dignities on him, and raise him to a Rank equal to the greatest of his Noblemen."
But
Fawnia
replied, "that she would not purchase his Liberty, ardently as she loved him, with the Loss of her Honour," and
Pandosto
seeing her so fixed in her Resolution not to forsake
Meleagrus,
would press her no further at that Time, and left her to herself.
Fawnia,
as soon as she was alone, began with Sighs and Tears to bewail this new Misfortune which had befallen her, anticipating by her Fears the Distresses her Refusal of the King's Offers might bring upon
Dorastus
and herself.
"Oh! unfortunate
Fawnia,
said she, how well has thy Presumption, in daring to love a Prince, been punished by the Calamities thou endurest at present, and those greater ones which thou hast Reason to expect. Ah! fond and inconsiderate Maid, hadst thou been contented with the humble Condition of a Shepherdess, in which thou wert born, thou hadst escaped these Evils; but thy rash Folly has not only undone thyself, but ruined him whose Happiness is and ought to be dearer to thee than thy own!"
"Oh!
Dorastus, Dorastus,
thou who wert born a Prince, art now a Prisoner for my Sake; those Hands which were formed for Scepters are loaded with shameful Irons for me, unworthy me, what Miseries has thy fatal Passion for the wretched
Fawnia
brought upon thee? too lovely and too generous Prince, thou hadst been still great and happy but for me. Oh! that by my Death I could free thee from thy unworthy Bonds, but alas! thy Freedom can only be procured by the Sacrifice of my Honour, and that Sacrifice thou wouldst never consent to; no, my dear Prince, 'tis only by my Fidelity to thee that I can requite thy wonderous Love, and here I swear by the immortal Gods, no Temptations, no Threats, not even of Death itself, shall ever make me forsake thee."
Fawnia
having thus given Vent to the secret Sorrows of her Soul, retired to her Apartment in the Palace, and past the melancholy Hours in bewailing the Confinement of her beloved Prince, and offering up Prayers to the Gods for his Deliverance.
Mean Time
Dorastus
in a close Prison, loaded with Irons like a common Criminal, and now a thousand bitter Reflexions rose in his Mind; Rage and Shame at the unworthy Treatment he received, made him sometimes regret his ill placed Passion, which had brought him into so wretched a Condition.
But this Thought seldom dwelt long upon his Mind, and he was more ready to accuse the Gods of Cruelty and Injustice for divideing him from
Fawnia,
and subjecting him to such Miseries, than to repent the Folly that had caused them.
Oh! wretched
Dorastus,
would he cry, when assaulted by a vainly supprest Remorse, oughtest thou in Reason to repine at thy Fate? are not worse Punishments, if possible, than what thou now endurest due to thy Unworthiness and Folly? couldst thou expect to be favoured by Heaven, thou who didst forget the Duties of thy Station, and hast disgraced thy Rank and Dignity? the Wrath of Heaven is levelled at the Wretch who disobeys his Father, and oppresses his old Age with Shame and Sorrow, thou hast done this
Dorastus,
and mayst with Reason expect the severest Punishments will be inflicted on thee; behold me then ye Gods ready to suffer all your Vengeance, and willing to expiate my Offence by Death: But on me, on me only let loose all your Fury, spa
e the lovely, the innocent
Fawnia,
shield and defend her helpless Youth from the inhuman Tyranny of
Pandosto,
and if my Death can procure her Safety, hasten it ye heavenly Powers, and let my Punishment attone for all."
While the two Lovers thus groaned under the cruel Tyranny of
Pandosto,
his Passion for
Fawnia
gave him no less Disquiet; her Denials instead of abating increased his unlawful Desires; his Discontent appeared in every Look and Action, so tha
his Courtiers, who saw him always disturbed and uneasy, wondered from whence the sudden Alteration proceeded.
Though the resolute Behaviour of
Fawnia
in the last Interview he had with her gave him no Reason to hope for any Change in her Sentiments, yet being impatient to see her again and assail her Virtue with new Sollicitations, he ordered her to be brought privately into his Apartment.
Fawnia,
with great Reluctance, suffered herself to be conducted to his Presence, and the King, as soon as he saw her, ordered all his Attendants to withdraw, and with a soothing Look and Voice thus spoke to her.
"Well, charming
Fawnia,
have you considered upon the Purport of my last Conversation with you, when we walked together in the Park? are you become less obstinate, and more wise? Will you prefer the Love of a King to the Affection of a miserable Knight? I persuade myself you are not so insensible to the Charms of Ambition as not to think it better to be the Favourite of a King, than the Wife of a poor Subject."
"My Lord, replied
Fawnia,
I am sensible that I am in your Power, and have indeed severely felt the arbitrary Exertion of it; is it just, is it reasonable, my Lord, to inflict upon innocent Persons such Punishments as are only due to guilty ones? What Crime has
Meleagrus
committed against you that he must be loaded with Chains and confined in a horrible Prison? And what Right have you over my Person, that you detain me here in your Palace, and force me to listen to your infamous Proposals?
Meleagrus
has never attempted to seduce your Subjects from their Allegiance to you; why then do you attempt to allure me from the Fidelity I owe to him? but know, unjust Prince, though Fortune has put my Person in your Power, my Mind can never be subdued, but disdains alike your Promises and Threats, I have vowed to keep myself for my beloved
Meleagrus,
and nothing but Death shall prevent my keeping that
Vow."
"Is it possible then, said
Pandosto,
that you can persist in refusing the Love of a King, for the Sake of that wretched Man? foolish and ungrateful Girl, you say you are in my Power, yet I forbear to use it to your Prejudice, and what I might compel by Force, am contented only to sue for, by Prayers; yield then and reward my ardent Passion with your Love,
Meleagrus
shall be set at Liberty, your Countrymen discharged, and all that your utmost Wishes can suggest, shall be fulfilled by a King who burns in Love for you."
"Why do you talk of Love? replied
Fawnia,
with a beautiful Disdain, you who are a Stranger to that godlike Passion, alas! 'tis Profanation to call the Inclination you have for me by the Name of Love, such Love as yours, my Lord, is worse than Death to a modest Virgin, and to avoid it I will freely sacrifice my Life. Well may you threaten me with your Power, you who are capable of making so ill an Use of it, but know, lascivious Prince, that all your Power is insufficient to force me to a Crime the Gods abhor, and since I dare die to preserve my Honour, your impious Attempt will gain you nothing but eternal Infamy."
Pandosto,
enraged at her unalterable Love for
Meleagrus,
and fixed Resolution to refuse his Offer, ordered her, with Eyes sparkling with Fury, to quit his Presence, swearing at the same Time that unless she disposed herself soon to yield to his Desires, he would force her to comply, whatever might be the Consequences.
Fawnia,
not in the least terrified at his Menaces, quitted his Apartment and retired to her own, arming her Soul with Fortitude to escape his threatened Force by Death, if Heaven afforded her not some other Means of Relief.
In the mean Time the King of
Sicily
was informed by some
Bohemian
Merchants, who had discovered
Meleagrus
to be
Dorastus,
that his Son was in
Bohemia,
and confined in Prison by the King.
Egistus,
though extremely offended with his Son for his Disobedience and Desertion of him, yet could not hear of the shameful Treatment he received from
Pandosto
without feeling great Affliction; and reflecting that
Bellaria
and himself had been cleared by the Oracles of
Apollo
of the Crime the King suspected them guilty of, he did not doubt but
Pandosto
would send back his fugitive Son, at the Request of his Ambassadors.
He therefore ordered a small Fleet, well manned to be prepared, and giving a Commission to some of his principal Nobles to demand the Prince of
Pandosto,
they embarked and set sail for
Bohemia.
Pandosto
received the
Sicilian
Ambassadors with great Respect, which filled them with Hopes of returning to their Master with Success, and soon after their Arrival related to them the Adventure of the
Trapalonian
Knight, who he said had come into his Dominions in a very suspicious Manner, bringing with him a young Lady, named
Fawnia,
and no Attendants but a Shepherd, and an old Man.
The Ambassadors immediately perceived this
Trapalonian
Knight was no other than their Prince
Dorastus,
but they dissembled the Matter for the present till the King granted them a public Audience, and then in the Name of their Sovereign they demanded the Prince of
Sicily
of him, who was in his Dominions under the Name of
Meleagrus.
They then proceeded to acquaint his
Bohemian
Majesty that the Prince of
Sicily
had contrary to the Will of the King his Father, quitted the Kingdom, and carried with him a young Maid, named
Fawnia,
the Daughter of an old Shepherd, called
Porrus,
and that
Capnio,
one of the Prince's Attendants, had accompanied him in his Flight.
They concluded with telling the King that it was the Request of their Sovereign
Egistus,
that Prince
Dorastus
should be freed from his Confinement and sent home with them, and that
Capnio, Porrus,
and his Daughter,
Fawnia,
should be put to Death.
Pandosto
heard this Embassy with great Astonishment, and willing to reconcile himself to
Egistus,
and to shew how much he desired to renew their long interrupted Friendship, he resolved punctually to execute his Will, and to sacrifice
Fawnia
both to his Policy and his injured Love.
He therefore sent Orders immediately for the Release of
Dorastus,
who was greatly surprized at this unexpected Favour, but he was still more so, when being conducted into the King's Presence, he saw several Noblemen belonging to his Father's Court, who, as soon as he appeared, approached, and paid their Duties to him with the utmost Respect.
Pandosto
rising from his Chair of State embraced him with many Expressions of Tender-and Respect, mingling Apologies for what had passed, while his Birth and Quality were unknown, then seating him on his right Hand, he declared to him the Purport of the Embassy, he had received from the King, his Father.
Dorastus,
in great Confusion to find the Cause of his Flight was thus publickly known, held down his Head to hide the Blushes which overspread his Face, but when the King went on to relate the Punishment that he was required to inflict upon
Fawnia
and that other Partners of his Flight, he was not able to conceal the strong Emotions of his Soul, but in the most passionate Terms he exclaimed against the Cruelty and Injustice of his Father, and earnestly conjured
Pandosto
not to execute so inhuman a Sentence.
The King, without being moved by his Intreaties, ordered
Fawnia, Capnio,
and
Porrus
to be brought before him, and giving Way to the Fury of his Resentment against
Fawnia,
whose noble Resistance had changed the Former Love he bore her into Hatred, he accosted the trembling Maid with these reproachful Words.
"Mean and contemptible Wretch, said he, how durst thou raise thy dazled Eyes to Honour, and in thy base born Soul nourish the Flames of Ambition. Was it for thee, thou Beggar, to entertain Hopes of marrying a Prince? and practise Arts to induce the Son of a great King to forsake his Country to gratify thy insolent Desires? but know, thou dangerous Syren, Death shall be the Reward of thy daring Ambition; and thou old doating Fool, said he, to the pale trembling
Porrus,
whose insolent Folly has prompted thy Daughter to this rash Undertaking, thy Life shall pay for thy Presumption."
"But for thee,
Capnio,
added the enraged King, Death is too easy a Punishment, thy Treason and Falshood merits something worse, I therefore condemn thee to have thy Eyes put out, and till thou diest grind continually in a Mill, like a blind Horse."
Dorastus,
whom the Sentence that was past on
Fawnia,
had thrown into a silent Agony of Grief, Rage, and Despair, perceiving they were about to lead her away, rose up to speak in her Defence, but overcome with the Violence of these different Emotions, he sunk down again in his Chair, without any Appearance of Life.
By the timely Assistance of the King's Physicians he recovered, his Senses, and at their Instances, he was removed from the Sight of
Fawnia,
who, as soon as he was taken out of the Room, spoke in this Manner.
"If my Death will be the Means of procuring Peace and Happiness for Prince
Dorastus,
who is my betrothed Lord, and whose sacred Vows, the Gods have heard, and registered in Heaven, and which no Power on Earth can dissolve, I am then content to die, but my innocent and tender Passion for him, I shall carry to my Grave; my last Breath shall be spent in begging Blessings for him, in imploring the Gods to shed their choicest Gifts upon him, that when he succeeds to the Throne of his Father, he may rule his Subjects with Prudence, Equity, and Moderation, for Wisdom and Mercy are divine Attributes, and a Monarch's true Safety and Happiness consists in the Love, and not the Fear of his People. Behold me then, O King, prepared to suffer all the Rigour of your Sentence. But oh! my Father, what has he done, that his gray and venerable Hairs must by Violence be brought to the Grave, alas! he is absolutely innocent of the Engagement, between the Prince and me; he neither counsel'd my Flight, nor consented to accompany me in it, but was brought forcibly on board the Ship, and compelled to be the Partner of our Voyage; must he then die for an involuntary Crime? Oh unjust and cruel Destiny! —But who art thou, King
Pandosto?
who judgest thus the Subjects of another King, who not having committed any Thing worthy of Punishment, since they came into thy Territories, hast nevertheless passed Sentence of Death upon them? But something within me says thou hast a Power to judge
Fawnia
; be it so then; and welcome Death, which will bring me to those Regions of Bliss, where eternal Justice, Mercy and Compassion reigns.
The old Shepherd, moved with the affectionate Entreaties of
Fawnia
in his Favour, and perceiving there was no more Hope of Life, resolved, before he died, to discover that she was not his Daughter, and, after entreating a few Moments Audience, spoke thus:
"King of
Bohemia,
and ye noble Ambassadors of
Sicily,
seeing that I am, though innocent, condemned to die, I am willing to disburthen my Conscience of a Secret I have too long concealed: I will tell ye as much as I know, and no more than is true:
Fawnia,
who has been disdained as a vile Beggar, is not my Daughter; I found her, and thus it happened: Being a poor Shepherd in
Sicily,
and living by keeping other Mens Flocks, upon a certain Day, one of my Sheep straying down to the Sea-side, I went to look for it, and saw a little Boat driven upon the Sands, wherein I found a Babe, about six Days old, wrapt in a scarlet Mantle, with a Chain about its Neck: Compassion moved me to take Care of the Child, and being covetous of the Treasure I had found with it, I carried it home to my Wife, who nursed it as her own, and when it grew up set it to keep Sheep; this Lady,
Fawnia,
is the Child whom I found, and here is the Chain and the Jewels that were about her; who she is, and of what Parentage, I know not, but I solemnly declare she is not mine."
Pandosto,
who had with Difficulty restrained his Emotions while
Porrus
war speaking, as soon as he was silent, impatiently demanded to know the Season of the Year when he found this Babe, the Boat in which it was laid, and several other Circumstances; and fully satisfied with his Answers, he suddenly sprung from his Seat, and in a Rapture of paternal Affection, he catched
Fawnia
in his Arms, bathing her tender Face, which he pressed close to his own, with Tears of Surprize and Joy, and crying in broken Accents, "Oh,
Fawnia!
my long lost Daughter! I am thy Father,
Fawnia."
These Exclamations and sudden Passion filled all that were present with Amazement, especially
Fawnia,
who stood motionless with Surprize, her lovely Face expressing at once the Extremes of Joy, Hope, Fear and Wonder.
Pandosto,
as soon as the first Violence of his Transports was abated, sent for
Dor
stus,
who was by this Time perfectly restored to his Senses, and holding
Fawnia
by the Hand, he declared, that she was his Daughter, of whom his Wife
Bellaria,
had been delivered while she lay under the false Suspicion of Adultery, and was therefore by his Orders exposed in an open Boat to the Fury of the Waves: He then ordered
Porrus,
to tell the Prince where he had found her, and his Relation finished, he again embraced her, and publicly acknowledged her for his Daughter.
Fawnia,
now assured of the Reality of her Happiness, indulged her Joy at this unexpected good Fortune; Dorastus was transported out of himself, and the
Sicilians
no longer repined at their Prince's Choice, but rejoiced in the Expectation that the Enmity which had so long subsisted between
Egistus
and
Pandosto,
would now be changed into a firm Friendship and perpetual Peace between the Kingdoms of
Sicily
and
Bohemia.
The News was soon spread through
Pandosto
's Dominions; the Streets rung with Exclamations of Joy for the King's having found his Daughter, and that there was now a lawful Heir to the Crown of
Bohemia;
nothing but magnificent Shews were every where to be seen, and the most extravagant Demonstrations of Joy.
The King conferred the Honour of Knighthood on old
Porrus,
who had been so long the reputed Father of
Fawnia;
and causing a noble Fleet to be put in readiness to sail, he embarked with
Dorastus, Fawnia,
and the
Sicilian
Ambassadors, with a numerous Retinue, and soon arrived at
Sicily,
where he was kindly received by
Egistus,
who was perfectly satisfied with his Son's Fortune.
The nuptial Ceremonies between the Prince and Princess were performed with great Magnificence; and soon after,
Pandosto
giving way to a thousand gloomy Reflexions, which the Consideration of his unjust Jealousy of
Bellaria,
his designed Cruelty to
Egistus,
but above all his unnatural Passion for his Daughter, had inspired, a deep Melancholy seized his Spirits, which turning to a Phrenzy, he one Night, took Advantage of the Absence of his Attendants, and stabbed himself with a Dagger.
His Death was much lamented by
Dorastus, Fawnia
and the good
Egistus;
his Body being embalmed, the young King and Queen of
Bohemia
took Leave of the King of
Sicily,
their Father, and carried the Corpse of the deceased Monarch with them to
Bohemia,
where the funeral Obsequies were performed with great Splendor; and they ascended the Throne, to the universal Joy of the whole Kingdom.
OBSERVATIONS
on the Use
Shakespear
has made of the foregoing Novel in his Play called The
Winter's Tale.
The Fable of the
WINTER's TALE.
POLIXENES,
King of
Bohemia,
and
Leontes,
King of
Sicilia,
having been bred together in their Youth, and maintained a strict Friendship and Correspondence with each other after they succeeded to the Thrones of their Fathers;
Polixenes
desirous of seeing again his beloved Companion, pays him a Visit in his own Dominions, where, after staying a considerable Time, he proposes to take Leave and return to his own Kingdom; but
Leontes,
unwilling to part with him, presses him to a lon
er Stay;
Polixenes
refuses; whereupon
Leontes
desires his Queen
Hermione
to solicit him; she obeys; and
Polixenes,
at her Request, consents to remain a little longer in
Bohemia.
Leontes
takes Occasion, from the Earnestness of his Wife's Entreaties and the easy Compliance of
Polixenes,
to suspect them both
f Adultery; and growing furious with Jea
ousy, he endeavours to persuade
Camillo,
one of his Courtiers, whom he had made Cup-Bearer to
Polixenes,
to poison him.
Camillo
promises to perform his Orders, but secretly discovers them to the King of
Bohemia,
who, thus warned, makes his Escape by Night, accompanied by his Preserver,
Camillo.
Leontes,
enraged at their Flight, and supposing that his Queen was privy to it, publicly accuses her of Adultery with
Polixenes,
and of conspiring with
Camillo
to take away his Life.
Hermione
is sent to Prison, where she is delivered of a Daughter:
Paulina,
an old Lady, Friend to the Queen, carries the Child to
Leontes,
who swears it is a Bastard, and threatens to have both it and the Mother burnt; being with Difficulty dissuaded from this cruel Resolution, he orders
Antigonous,
the Husband of
Paulina,
to carry the Child to some desert Place, quite out of his Dominions, and there leave it.
Antigonous
being instructed in a Dream how to dispose of it, carries it into
Bohemia,
and leaves it in a Wood, but as he is returning to his Vessel, he is devoured by a wild Bear, and the Ship is wrecked.
Leontes
having sent Messengers to
Delpho
to consult the Oracle of
Apollo
concerning hi
Queen's Infidelity; as soon as they return, th
Queen is brought to her Trial, and her Accusation being read, which she courageously denies, and refers to the Oracle, it is broke open and read aloud, and pronounces her In-her Inocence.
The King declares the Oracle is false, and orders the Court to proceed in the Tryal, when a Messenger brings him an Account of the sudden Death of the Prince his Son, the Queen falls into a Swoon at this News, and is carried out.
Leontes,
believing the Death of his Son to be a Punishment for his Profanation in denying the Truth of the Oracle, repents his unjust Accusation of
Hermione,
asks Pardon of
Apollo,
and resolves to make his Queen Amends, for the Injuries he had offered her.
While he is making these penitent Resolutions,
Paulina
enters, and informs him the Queen is dead.
Leontes,
in great Affliction, vows to visit her Tomb once in every Day while he lives, and weep ever it.
In the mean Time the little
Perdita,
his Daughter, is found by a
Bohemian
Shepherd, who breeds it up as his own Child: Prince
Florizel,
the Son of
Polixenes,
falls in love with
Perdita,
and resolves to marry her. The King, his Father, discovers his Intention, and threatens
Perdita
with Death if she ever again presumes to receive his Son's Addresses;
Camillo,
who ardently desired to visit his own Country,
Sicilia,
and his old Master
Leontes,
persuades Prince
Florizel,
since he was determined not to quit
Perdita,
to steal her away and carry her to
Sicilia,
and feign an Embassy from his Father to
Leontes,
which would secure him a kind Reception.
Florizel
goes on board a Ship with
Perdita,
and sails to
Sicilia,
where he is received with great Friendship by
Leontes,
but immediately after King
Polixenes
himself arrives, having been persuaded by
Camillo
to follow his Son, and prevent his Marriage with
Perdita.
The supposed Father of
Perdita
having been decoyed on board the Prince's Vessel, as he was going to the King to discover how he came by
Perdita,
and to show him the Tokens he found with her; she is by his Means discovered to be the Daughter of
Leontes.
Paulina,
overjoyed at this happy Discovery, invites the two Kings, with the Prince and Princess, to her House to see a Statue of
Hermione,
which she says is just finished, they follow her, and she shews them
Hermione
herself, who they supposed dead, standing upon
Pedestal; after they have gazed on her some Time, still thinking it was a Statue of the deceased Queen,
Paulina
orders the Music to play, and bids the Statue descend, which it does, and is discovered to be the living
Hermione.
Leontes
receives her again with Transport Prince
Florizel
is married to his beloved
Perdita
and the good old
Paulina
is rewarded with another Husband, in the Room of her lost
Antigonous.
It has been mentioned as a great Praise to
Shakespear
that the old paltry Story of
Dorastus
and
Fawnia
served him for a Winter's Tale, but if we compare the Conduct of the Incidents in the Play with the paltry Story on which it is founded, we shall find the Original much less absurd and ridiculous.
If
Shakespear
had even improved the Story, and cleared it of great Part of its Inconsistencies, yet he would still have been accountable for what remained, for why indeed did he chuse a Subject so faulty for the Story of a Play; his Claim to Praise would have been but very small, by making what was bad better, since he was free in the Choice of his Subject; but certainly he can have no Pretensions to it at all by changing bad to worse; that he has done so will be easily proved by examining some of the principal Incidents, as they are differently managed by the Novelist and the Poet.
The King's Jealousy is the Foundation of all the Adventures that followed, but extravagant as its Consequences are in both, yet the Rise and Progress of this terrible Passion is better accounted for in the Novel than the Play: In the first we are told that
Pandosto,
charmed with the friendly Visit
Egistus
paid him in his Dominions, desired the Queen to treat her royal Guest with, the Respect and Esteem that was due to his Merit and the Friendship he had for him; the Queen, like an obedient Wife, complies with her Husband's Directions, and perhaps over-acts her Part. The King begins to think he has been too officious; the innocent Familiarity between his Wife and Friend creates Suspicions, which meeting with a Mind prepared by a natural Distrustfulness to receive them, produces those Sparks of Jealousy which his interested Observations on all their Looks, Words, and Actions, afterwards blew into a Flame.
This Account of the King's Jealousy does not absolutely clash with Probability. But let us see how
Shakespear
manages it in the Play; the two Kings make their first Appearance in the second Scene in high Friendship and Confidence;
Polixenes
reminding his Friend of the Length of his Visit, tells him he is now resolved to be gone.
Leontes,
not able to part with him, presses him earnestly to stay longer,
Polixenes
urges the Necessity of his speedy Departure, and truly, as he observes, nine Months is a great while for a good King to be out of his own Dominions.
Leontes,
after many fruitless Intreaties, reproaches his Queen for not endeavouring to detain
Polixenes,
she, in obedience to his Commands, presses him to gratify her Lord by a little longer Stay;
Polixenes
complies at her Request, and certainly he must be a very ill bred Monarch had he done otherwise.
All this Conversation passes in the Presence of
Leontes,
who from hence takes Occasion to be jealous, and passes in an Instant from the greatest Confidence, Security, and Friendship imaginable, to the last Extremity of Jealousy and Rage. What wonderful Contrivance is here? The Legerdemain, who shews you a Tree that buds Blossoms and bears ripe Fruit in the Space of five Minutes, does not put so great a Cheat on the Senses, as
Shakespear
does on the Understanding; for this Jealousy of one Minute's Growth we see take Root before our Eyes, and so far from there being the smallest Progression in the several Actions of budding, blossoming, and bearing ripe Fruit, that we have the first and the last at one and the same Instant.
The extravagant Effects of the King's Rage and Jealousy are carried far enough in all Conscience in the Novel, and
Shakespear
is not a Whit more moderate; only he has altered a Circumstance which entirely destroys the little Probability the Novelist had preserved in the Relation.
In the Story, the King being in his own Mind firmly persuaded of the Queen's Guilt,
rders her to be imprisoned, and the Daughter
at she was delivered of in Prison to be burnt;
the Intreaties of his Courtiers he reverses the Sentence past on the Child, and commands it to be exposed in a Boat, but declares that his Queen shall die.
She insists upon being confronted with her Accusers, whereupon she is brought to a Tryal; but finding she was likely to meet with no Justice in a Court over-ruled by the Power of her Husband, she on her Knees protests her Innocence, and intreats the King to consult the Oracle of
Apollo
concerning the Crimes of which she was accused. This so reasonable a Request being made in open Court, the King could not refuse it, and therefore sends Ambassadors to
Delphos;
who return with the Answer of the God; which being read, declares her Innocence, and the King is satisfied.
Shakespear
makes the King in the Heighth of his Frenzy of Jealousy send himself to the Oracle of
Apollo,
and in the mean Time commit the most barbarous Cruelties on his Queen and Child. How inconsistent is this! why does he consult the Oracle if he is resolved to proceed to Extremities before the Answer arrives? The Request comes very naturally from the Queen in the Novel, and the King's Compliance with it is very well accounted for, but in the Play nothing can be more absurd than that the King should be reasonable enough to consult voluntarily the Gods concerning the Infidelity of his Wife; and while the Answer was expected, and her Guilt yet doubtful, punish her with as much Rigour as if the Oracle had declared her an Adultress. Her
again the paltry Story has the Advantage of the Play. Let us go on to examine a few more of the Incidents.
In the Novel, the Persons who perform the hateful Office of exposing the Infant Princess are some of the King's Guards.
In the Play, it is a Nobleman of high Rank, who had Courage enough to reprove the King for his violent and unjust Jealousy, yet basely submits to take an Oath to perform his Commands, though he had Reason to think they would not be very mild, and still more basely keeps that Oath, though it enjoins him to carry the innocent Babe to a Desert, and there leave it to the Mercy of the wild Beasts.
In the Novel, the Accidents that happen to the exposed Infant are governed by Chance; the Boat into which it was put being left in the midst of the Ocean, is driven by the Winds to the Coast of
Bohemia,
and being spied by a Shepherd is drawn to Land.
In the Play,
Antigonous,
who is bound by Oath to leave the Child in some desert Place quite out of its Father's Dominions, is warned in a Dream by its unhappy Mother to call the Infant
Perdita,
and carry it to
Bohemia,
and there leave it.
Antigonous
obeys, and this done, it is absolutely necessary he should never return to
Sicily,
otherwise it may be discovered where the Princess is left, and all the future Adventures would fall to the Ground, therefore a Bear rushes out of the Woods and devours him; the good-natured Bear, as it should seem, resolved not to spoil the Story, passes by the little Princess, who is to make so great a Figure hereafter, and a convenient Storm arising, splits the Ship in which she was brought thither, so that all the Sailors perishing, though they were near enough the Shore to have saved themselves, no one is left to ca
ry back any Account of the Affair to
Sicily,
and thereby prevent the Adventures which are to follow.
All this is very wonderful:
Shakespear
multiplies Miracle upon Miracle to bring about the same Events in the Play, which Chance, with much more Propriety, performs in the Novel.
The Loves of the young Prince of
Bohemia
and the royal Shepherdess are carried on much in the same Manner by the Poet as the Novelist;
Shakespear
has even borrowed some of the Thoughts from the latter in this Speech of
Florizel
to
Perdita.
The Gods themselves,
Humbling their Deities to Love, have taken
The Shapes of Beasts upon them.
Jupiter
Became a Bull, and bellow'd the Green.
Neptune
A Ram and bleated; and the fire-rob'd God,
Golden
Apollo,
a poor humble Swain,
As I seem now. Their Transformations
Were never for a Piece of Beauty rarer,
Nor in a Way so chaste. Since my Desires
Run not before my Honour, nor my Lusts
Burn hotter than my Faith.
Dorastus
speaks almost the same Words in the Novel, "The Gods themselves have not disdained to love:
Jupiter
was enamoured of
Danaë,
and the bright
Apollo
woo'd the inexorable
Daphne;
these were mortal Beauties, and they were Deities; why then, though a Prince, may not I love a Shepherdess, but their Passions were dishonourable, mine is pure and chaste, 'tis true, and herein I surpass the Gods; be still then, O my Soul, for 'tis decreed,
Fawnia,
the adorable
Fawnia,
shall be mine."
The Escape of the two Lovers is very differently managed in the Novel and Play; in the first, the Prince being pressed by his Father to marry, resolves to leave
Sicily
with
Fawnia,
and fly into
Italy,
where he intended to live concealed till his Father's Death, or that he could reconcile him to his Marriage with the beautiful Shepherdess; having procured a Ship, and a sufficient Quantity of Money and Jewels, he meets
Fawnia
early in the Morning and carries her to the Port, they embark, and steer their Course for
Italy,
but are driven by contrary Winds to
Bohemia,
where they are obliged to land.
In the Play,
Florizel
disguised in the Habit of a Shepherd for the Sake of
Perdita,
assists at a Sheepshearing Feast. The King, his Father, being informed of his Son's Resort to the House of a Shepherd, goes there disguised with his Confidant,
Camillo,
and comes very opportunely to hear the Prince, his Son declare his Passion for the Fair Shepherdess publicly, and his Intentions of marrying her; nay he carries his Indiscretion so far as to join Hands with her before all the Country People who are present; can any Thing be more absurd?
The King, sufficiently informed of his Son's Designs, discovers himself, and forbids the Bans: this is indeed a terrible Stroke; one would be puzzled to think how the Lovers will escape; for is it not natural to suppose that the enraged King will keep his Son in a strict Confinement to prevent this unequal Match; but it happens quite otherwise; for the King, after some severe Menaces, goes back to his Palace, and leaves his Son at Liberty to run away with the Country Girl, which he accordingly does.
The Part
Camillo
acts in this Affair is not more consistent; he longs to see again his old Master
Leontes
and his native Country
Sicilia,
which he had quitted to preserve
Polixenes,
and because this Monarch loved him so well that he could not bear his Absence, and gently denied him Permission to go,
Camillo
betrays the Confidence he reposed in him, consents to the Prince's Flight, and advises him to take Refuge in
Sicilia,
in Hopes that
Polixenes,
to whom he intended to discover where the Prince was gone, would follow him, and thus he might again return to his own Country.
This double Treachery and self-interested Views are very inconsistent with the Character of so honest a Man as
Camillo
is represented to be; besides the Contrivance is absolutely ridiculous; for what Reason had the Prince to suppose that
Leontes,
who passionately desired to be reconciled to the King his Father, whom he had so greatly injured, would offend him anew by protecting his Son, who had fled from him in order to marry a poor Shepherdess, for he could not expect the Story, however he disguised it, would be long concealed from him; and why should
Camillo
suppose that
Polixenes,
when he was informed of his Son's Flight, would quit his Dominions to follow him, and put his Person again in the Power of a King who had once designed to murder him: was it not more likely that he would send Ambassadors to demand the Prince of
Leontes,
who would then have an Opportunity of shewing if his Penitence was sincere by sending him back again; but
Shakespear
has fallen into all these Absurdities in order to bring the chief Characters in his Play together at
Sicilia,
tho' for some of them there was not the least Occasion.
The several Incidents that lead to the Discovery of
Fawnia
are conducted with some Shadow of Probability in the Novel, but are much the worse for
Shakespear
's Alterations.
In the Novel
Capnio,
the Prince's Confidant, as he is hastening after him to the Port, meets the Father of
Fawnia
going to Court, and suspecting his Design, he artfully persuades him to follow him, and, partly by Stratagem, and partly by Force, carries him on board the Vessel in which the Prince and
Fawnia
were embarked; the old Man had taken with him when he left his House the Chain and Jewels he found with
Fawnia
in order to shew them to the King and relate the Manner in which he found her; but being prevented in this Design by
Capnio,
who obliged him to be the Companion of their Flight, he very prudently continues to conceal from
Fawnia
the Circumstance of her Birth; and, to secure to himself a respectful Treatment from the Prince and her, suffers her still to believe him her Father; but when at
Bohemia
the King of
Sicilia
's Ambassadors discover who they are, and the old Shepherd and
Fawnia
are by the King of
Bohemia
ordered to be put to Death for deluding the Prince of
Sicily,
he then declares that
Fawnia
is not his Daughter, and produces the Chain and Jewels he found with her as Proofs that her Birth was not mean; the King at the Sight of these Tokens knows and acknowledges his Daughter.
Thus these Circumstances are altered by
Shakespear.
—The Prince having changed Cloaths with a cheating Pedlar, escapes with his Mistress to the Ship; the Pedlar immediately over-hears a Conversation between the reputed Father of
Perdita
and his Son, in which it is resolved that he shall carry the Jewels to the King and declare how he found
Perdita;
the Pedlar supposing it would be an Advantage to the Prince to know this, decoys the old Shepherd and his Son aboard; now one would imagine that all must come out; but see what strange Accidents conspire to hinder it.
The Pedlar, though he over-heard the old Shepherd say that
Perdita
was a Foundling and not his Daughter, neglects to tell the Prince this important Circumstance, though it was with that very Design he came and forced the two Clowns along with him.
Perdita,
though her Father and Brother are in the same Vessel with her, never sees or speaks to them: the old Shepherd and his Son make no Attempts to speak to her; and the Prince has so little Consideration for the Father and Brother of his Beloved that he takes no Notice of them; how wonderful is all this! the most unlikely Things imaginable fall out to postpone the Discovery of
Perdita
till their Arrival at
Sicily.
The Novel makes the Wife of the jealous King die through Affliction for the Loss of her Son;
Shakespear
seems to have preserved her alive for the sake of her representing her own Statue in the last Scene; a mean and absurd Contrivance; for how can it be imagined that
Hermione,
a virtuous and affectionate Wife, would conceal herself during sixteen Years in a solitary House, though she was sensible that
er repentant Husband was all that Time consuming away with Grief and Remorse for her Death; and what Reason could she have for chusing to live in such a miserable Confinement, when she might have been happy in the Possession of her Husband's Affection and have shared his Throne: how ridiculous also in a great Queen, on so interresting an Occasion, to submit to such Buffoonery as standing on a Pedestal, motionless, her Eyes fixed, and at last to be conjured down by this magical Command of
Paulina.
Music, awake her; strike;
'Tis Time, descend; be Stone no more; approach;
Strike all that look upon with Marvel; Come
I'll fill your Grave; up stir; nay, come away;
Bequeath to Death your Numbness, for from him
Dear Life redeems you.
After this solemn Incantation, her Majesty comes down from the Pedestal and embraces her Husband, and her new found Daughter, for whose Sake she declares she had preserved her Life.
To bring about this Scene, ridiculous as it is,
Shakespear
has been guilty of many Absurdities, which would be too tedious to mention, and which are too glaring to escape the Observation of the most careless Reader.
The Novel has nothing in it half so low and improbable as this Contrivance of the Statue; and indeed wherever
Shakespear
has altered or invented, his
Winter
's
Tale
is greatly inferior to the old paltry Story that furnished him with the Subject of it.
Sir
Thomas Hanmer,
in his Edition of
Shakespear,
has this Note at the Beginning of the
Winter Tale.
This Country, here called
Bithynia,
hath in all former Editions been printed
Bohemia,
an inland Kingdom, situated nearly in the Center of
Europe
; whereas many of the great Incidents of the Play turn upon its being a maritime Country, of which
Polixenes
was the King. This is a Blunder and an Absurdity, of which
Shakespear
in Justice ought not to be thought capable, and as he hath turned quite anew the Story contained in the old paltry Book of
Dorastus
and
Fawnia,
changing most of the main Circumstances, and all the Names of the Persons; it is probable he removed this Impropriety, and placed the Scene in
Bithynia,
which the Ignorance and Negligence of the first Transcribers, or Printers, might corrupt and bring back again to
Bohemia,
by a less Variation in the Letters than they have been guilty of in numberless other Places of this Work.
Shakespear,
in his Two Gentlemen of
Verona,
makes
Protheus
travel from
Verona
to
Milan
by Sea. Yet both those Cities are inland, and both more than eighty Miles distant from the Sea. Unless this Blunder can be also charged upon the Transcribers, or Printers, 'tis reasonable to suppose that
Shakespear,
who was guilty of the one, might be so of the other.
THE MENAECHMI. A COMEDY of
PLAUTUS.
Translated from the
French
OF Monsieur GUEUDIVILLE.
The PERSONS.
The PROLOGUE.
Menaechmus
of
Epidamnum,
Son of
Moschus
and
Theusimarcha,
and Brother of
Sosicles.
An old Man, Father of the Wife of
Menaechmus
of
Epidamnum.
The Wife of
Menaechmus
of
Epidamnum,
Erotia,
the Mistress of
Menaechmus
of
Epidamnum.
Physician.
Peniculus,
Parasite of
Menaechmus
of
Epidamnum,
A Servant of
Menaechmus
of
Epidamnum.
Slaves.
Cylindrus,
Cook to
Menaechmus
of
Epidamnum,
and
Erotia.
Menaechmus Sosicles,
Brother to
Menaechmus
of
Epidamnum.
Messenion,
Slave of
Menaechmus Sosicles.
The EPILOGUE.
SCENE,
Epidamnum
in
Macedonia.
PROLOGUE.
I Begin, Gentlemen, with telling you that I wish you all as well as myself; here is a Comedy of
Plautus
which I bring you, and intreat you will give it a favourable Attention; listen now to the Subject of the Play, and be silent, I shall endeavour to comprise it in as few Words as possible.
'Tis customary with Poets in their Comedies to make one believe that all passes at
Athens,
to the End that the Subject may appear entirely
Grecian,
and may be more esteemed by the Spectators; as for me I shall not pretend to say that what we are going to represent here to Day happened in any other Place than where it really did.
The Subject of this Piece is truly
Grecian,
yet notwithstanding that it is not
Attick,
but
Sicilian,
and what I have hitherto said is only the Introduction to it.
In explaining the Argument to you I shall not amuse myself with shewing you Patterns only, but present you with the whole Piece, for it is my Intention to be very full in the Exposition of this Intrigue.
There was formerly at
Syracuse
a good plain simple Man, a Merchant by Profession, his Wife was delivered of two Sons at one Birth, who so perfectly resembled each other, that the Nurse who suckled them, and the Mother who bore them were not able to distinguish the one from the other. This I was told by a Person who saw them; for my own Part I never did see them, and I tell you so that you may not be deceived.
When these two Children arrived to the Age of seven Years, their Father took one of them with him on board a Vessel which he had loaded with Merchandize, and carried him to
Tarentum,
whither he went to trade, leaving the other at home with his Mother.
It happened that when they arrived at
Tarentum
they were celebrating Games, which, as it is usual with public Spectacles, drew together great Numbers of People.
The little Boy straying from his Father was taken up by a Merchant of
Epidamnum,
who carried him into his own Country; the Father's Affliction for the Loss of his Son was so great that it deprived him of his Senses, and a few Days after of his Life.
This News being carried to
Syracuse,
the Grandfather of the two Children understanding that one of them was taken away at
Tarentum,
and that the Father was dead, changed the Name of his Grandson who remained with him, and gave him that of his Brother that was lost, whom he had loved extremely and was desirous of preserving the Remembrance of; he called him therefore
Menaechmus,
a Name that was common to himself as well as to the Twins.
This Circumstance I remember very well, having heard it proclaimed by the public Criers; and that you may avoid Mistakes, I inform you beforehand, that these twin Brothers have both the same Name.
But I must now return to
Epidamnum:
Is there any one among you who has Occasion for any Thing from that Country? If there be, he needs only to speak, and command me freely; however, he must understand, that it will be necessary to give me Money to enable me to perform his Commission; for to give me no Money would be a very great Folly, and to give me Money a still greater; I return then to the Place from whence I came; nevertheless, I do not budge from this Spot.
This Merchant of
Epidamnum,
of whom I have spoken so much, and who took away one of the twin Brothers, had no Children, but in every Thing else he was very rich; he adopted therefore the stolen Child; bred him up as his own Son; married him to a Woman with a large Fortune; and made a Will by which he left him his whole Estate: One Day, when he went into the Country,
t rained violently, and being obliged to pass a very rapid River, not far from the City, the Force of the Stream carried away this Ravisher of Children, and hurried him to the Furies in Spite of his Teeth.
Behold now the young Man established a
Epidamnum
in Possession of a great Fortune; his Brother brought up at
Syracuse,
is this Da
arrived at
Epidamnum
with his Servant it Search of this other Brother; for this Reason the City of
Epidamnum
will be the Scene of this Comedy; when we play another the Scene also shall be changed; for you know the Subjects are not always the same; sometimes we play a Merchant of Slaves, sometimes a young Debauchee, sometimes a poor Man, a Beggar, a King, a Parasite, or a Fortune-teller.
THE MENAECHMI of
Plautus.
ACT I.
SCENE I.
PENICULUS
the Parasite.
T HE Name of
Peniculus,
which I bear, was given me by the young People of the City, because when I am at Table I know so well how to make it clean. Th
se Masters who load their fugitive Slaves with Chains, are in my Opinion guilty of great Folly; for a poor Wretch who sees a new Evil added to those he suffered before is but the more incited to commit new Rogueries, and to avoid Punishment by Flight; these People never fail of extricating themselves out of Difficulties: Sometimes they force open the Lock with a File; sometimes they break the Hinges of the Door with a Stone; all the Precautions one takes with them are useless; the best Way to prevent a Servant from flying, is to attach them to one's self by good Nourishment; tye these Sort of Animals to a good Rack and give them Plenty of Provender, and take my Word for it they will not run away whatever Fault they have committed; they may be easily guarded if you make use of these Chains to retain them; the Ligaments of the Jaws are so pliant, that the more they are stretched the closer they may be drawn.
For a Proof of this I am going to the House of
Menaechmus
to get myself tyed in this Manner, and voluntary submit to a Sentence which has been long ago passed upon me;
Menaechmus
is a Man who not only feeds People well, but even gives them a new Birth and new Life; he is the first Man in the World for performing wonderful Cures; he is blest with a noble Appetite himself; you would say that each of his Repasts is a Feast; so well he knows how to furnish a Table; there is nothing to be seen on all Sides but Pyramids of Dishes, so that if one wants any Thing from the other End of the Table, one is obliged to raise one's self quite up from the Bed to reach it.
I have been many Days absent from him, during which Time I have remained shut up at home with my dear little Family, for I cannot eat or drink any Thing that does not cost me very dear, therefore I am sometimes obliged to fast for Want of Money: I am now going to visit
Menaechmus
—but his Door opens—'tis himself who is coming out.
SCENE II.
MENAECHMUS
of
Epidamnum. PENICULUS.
MENAECHMUS
to his Wife
within.
If you were not foolish and unreasonable to the last Degree, you wou'd not have a Mind at once so stubborn and so weak; it ought to be sufficient that a Thing does not please your Husband to make it unpleasing also to you; but be assured, if you ever take the Liberties with me which you have just now done, I will send you back to your Father and never see you more: When I have an Inclination to go abroad, you always endeavour to detain me; call me back; enquire where I am going; what I intend to do; what Affairs I have to transact from home; what I want; what I carry out with me; what I do when I am out; in short, I have a Tutor instead of a Wife, to whom I am obliged to give an exact Account of all my Actions: I have hitherto had too much Indulgence for you, but do not imagine will have it for the future; when I give you in Abundance whatever you can desire, Servants, Jewels, rich Cloaths,
ll your Wishes can aim at; you ought, if
ou were wise, to enjoy this Happiness, and
ease to be continually watching your Hus
and; but that you may not do it to no Pur
ose this Time, I shall inform you myself that I design to have a Rendezvous with a Mistress, and am now going to take her with me to Supper at an appointed Place.
This Man is persuaded he has vexed his Wife heartily, when at the same Time it is I who suffer; for if he sups abroad, I shall be disappointed, and not his Wife.
Most glorious Triumph! my Noise has obliged my Wife to retire: Where are the intriguing Husbands? why come they not in Crouds to load me with Presents, and congratulate me on my Dexterity in drawing myself out of Difficulties? I have contrived to take away this Robe from my Wife, and am going to carry it to my Mistress; 'tis thus we ought to trait those inquisitive Dames who are continually prying into all our Affairs: Yes; I am ready to prove to any one who shall deny it, tha
this Exploit of mine is fine, equitable, pleasant, and cunningly performed; at my own Expence I have robb'd one wicked Woma
to make a Present to another who is quite a bad; I have at least, however, the Glory and Pleasure of spoiling my Enemies to enrich my Allies.
But pray tell me,
Menaechmus,
wha
Share of the Spoil have you destin'd fo
me?
Ah! Wretch that I am! I am lost! I am fallen into an Ambuscade.
No, no, quite the contrary; you have met with a Reinforcement.
Who is there?
'Tis I.
Oh! the most convenient, the most favourable of all my Friends! good Morrow,
Peniculus.
Good Morrow, incomparable Patron.
Well, what News hast thou to tell me?
Delightful Meeting! I hold my tutelary Genius by the Hand.
Thou could'st never have come more conveniently.
'Tis my Custom; I never fail to present myself in the most seasonable Moments.
Are you desirous of hearing a noble Exploit?
Who is the Cook that has prepared the Meats? Shew me, if you please, what remains, I shall then be able to judge if he has succeeded well or ill.
Tell me, hast thou never seen painted in
Fresco
upon Walls the Rape of
Ganymede
by the Eagle of
Jupiter,
who was in Love with the fair Boy; or that of the charming
Adonis
by
Venus
whose Heart he had conquered?
One sees nothing else every where; but pray what are these Pictures to me? Alas! these Things are the least of my Concerns.
Look on me well; whom do you think I perfectly resemble?
What Sort of Dress is this that you appear in?
Confess to me that my Mien is excellent, and that in this Dress I appear to great Advantage.
Where shall we sup?
Answer my Question first.
You are in the Right, therefore I say you are one of the handsomest Men in the World.
Hast thou not Courage enough to add something of thine own?
Certainly, I say then, that you are a most agreeable Man.
Go on, go on.
No, by my Faith, I will not go on unless you tell me the Matter. Oh! well thought on, you have quarrelled with your Wife, pray tell me the Occasion of your Dispute.
Where shall we find a Sepulchre, where, unknown to my Wife, we may bury the Day in supping voluptuously?
Let us go then, nothing can be better spoken, we will light the Funeral Pile wherever you please; there is no Time to be lost, for the Day is already half dead.—
But while thou triflest away the Time in speaking to me, thy own Happiness is delayed, ought not the Pile to be already on Fire?
Menaechmus,
thrust out this Eye, tho' it is the only one I have, I am so prest with Hunger that I will not open my Mouth to speak a single Word unless you command me.
Come farther from my Door?
I obey.
Come yet nearer to me?
Most willingly.
How hard it is to make thee leave that Side? Retire, I say to thee, from the Den of that Lion.
By the Temple of
Pollux!
I think you would make an excellent Jockey, a dextrous Leader of Horses.
Why pray?
You look back every Moment to see if your Wife does not follow you.
What is that thou say'st?
Me, Sir! I say whatever you please; to all your Affirmatives, I say, Yes; to all your Negatives I say, No. I have the Honour to be your Eccho, both pro and con.
When thou smellest any Thing, art thou able to guess what Sort of Odour it is that affects thy Sense? hast thou a delicate Nose?
Ah! in such a Case I my single Self can di
ire better than the whole College of Augurs together.
Well, then, apply thy Nostrils to this Robe, which I carry under my Cloak: Smell it as thou shouldst; well what Scent has it? why do'st thou pause?
One must smell the top of a Woman's Habit, for it is from that Place the Nose is affected with a Scent one can never get rid of afterwards.
Pleasant
Peniculus,
smell it here then? why dost thou turn aside?
Not without Reason, faith.
What Reason? what does it smell of—Answer me.
It smells of three Things at once, Theft, a Whore, and a sumptuous Repast.
I am going from hence to carry it to
Erotia,
my Mistress, and will order her at the same Time to get a Supper prepared for herself, for thee, and me, and when we are seated at Table, we will protract the Debauch even till the rising of the Morning Sta.
You speak like an Oracle! shall I knock at the Door?
Knock—but stay—stay a little.
S'death Sir, how long will you delay the sublime Pleasure of eating and drinking?
Knock then—but knock softly.
Sure you think that this Door is made of Glass.
Hold—hold I conjure you by
Hercules;
see my Charmer herself, comes out of her House to meet us.—
Look one Moment at the Sun I beseech you, see how the Lustre of that glorious Luminary is obscured in the Presence of this divine Person.
SCENE III.
EROTIA, PENICULUS, and MENAECHMUS.
Good-morrow
Menaechmus,
my dearest and most valued Lover.
And pray what am I?
You are not one of my Troop.
Treat me at least as a Soldier in the Corps de Reserve, who is in Time to fill up the Place of another.
Give Orders to have every Thing made ready for the Battle I design to have to Day at your House?
I shall not fail.
He and I will drink valiantly in this Battle; thou shalt judge which of us two Soldiers shews most Courage in emptying the Glasses; for it belongs to thee, as our General, to conduct the Army; consider also with what Champion thou wilt enter the Lists this Night. Ah! my Love, how I hate my Wife when I look upon thee, she becomes insupportable to me.
Nevertheless you cannot refrain from having something of hers about you, nay, you even wear her Cloaths. What Ornament is this tray that you wear on your Body?
It formerly belonged to my Wife, but now 'tis thine, my fair one.
If you go on at this Rate, my Love, you will certainly march at the Head of my amorous Troop, and be preferred to all those to whom I sell my pleasurable Nights.
A Curtezan, when she sees the Prey ready to fall into her Hands, will not give herself Time to flatter and caress; but if you loved
Menaechmus,
Madam, you would already have snatched away half of his Nose with the Eagerness of your Kisses.
Hold my Cloak,
Peniculus,
while I perform the Vow I have made, and consecrate these Spoils to my Goddess.
Give it me, but before you pull off the Robe, let us see you dance in it as I do, dance I conjure you in the Name of the great
Hercules!
Me, dost thou bid dance. By the said great
Hercules!
I believe thou art mad.
If I am mad, certainly you are not much wiser; however pull off the Robe then, since you will not dance.
I have stolen this Robe to Day, but not without exposing myself to great Danger;
Hercules,
in my Opinion, undertook a less hazardous Enterprize when he forced the Girdle from
Hippolita,
the Queen of the
Amazons,
then I did in robbing my Wife of this Habit, receive it from my Hands, my dear
Erotia,
'tis yours, and you deserve it, since you are the only Woman in the World that has that Sweetness and Complacency, which I expect in the Person I love; 'tis thus that those whose Hearts are truly subjected ought to make known their Tenderness for the beloved Object.
Yes, those who desire to ruin themselves, and ride Post to the Hospital and Beggary.
'Tis a Year since I bought this Robe for my Wife, it cost me four Minae.
And so there are four Minae thrown away.
Dost thou know my Charmer what I expect from three.
Tell me, and your Will shall be exactly performed.
Give Orders then for a great Repast to be prepared at thy House, there will be only us three, do not delay to send to the Market, for whatever can be found there the most delicate, but above all don't forget to have some Pigs Cheeks, a Ham, a Lamb's Head, and Hogs Puddings, and such other delicious Meats, as may when well seasoned excite a voracious Appetite. But the Business must be done immediately.
By
Fenus
there shall be nothing wanting, depend upon it you shall have all you desire.
We will go to the public Square, we will not stay long, and at our Return we will seek in the Bottle for Patience till Dinner is ready.
Return when you please, my Love, you shall find every Thing ready.
Let it be done then with all possible Diligence—Will you come
Peniculus?
That I will by
Hercules!
I will follow you, I will accompany you, I will watch you carefully, I would not leave you a Moment for the World. What a Fool shou'd I be if I did, when the Fortune of a God awaits me.
Who is there, some of you bid
Cylindrus,
my Cook, come hither—There is not a Moment to lose, do you hear there.
SCENE IV.
EROTIA, CYLINDRUS.
Take a Basket and some Money, thou hast three Crowns, hast thou not?
Yes, Madam, I have.
Go then to Market, and buy provision to make an excellent Repast; but without Prodigality, I tell you before hand there are but three.
With Submission, Madam, who are these three?
Menaechmus,
his Parasite, and me.
You increase the Number by seven, for the Parasite himself will eat a
much as eight Persons, so I reckon there will be ten at Table.
I have named the Guests, do you take Care of the rest.
Look upon all as already done, you may sit down to Table when you will.
Don't trifle away the Time.
I will return in a Moment.
End of the First Act.
ACT II.
SCENE I.
MENAECHMUS SOSICLES, MESSENION his Slave.
IN my Opinion, my dear
Messenion,
these Sea-fearing Men know no greater Pleasure in the World than when after a long Voyage, they first discover Land.
With Submission, Sir, I think the Pleasure is still more sensibly felt by those who after a tedious Absence from their own Country behold again the well known Port, and are ready to touch the Shore: But tell me, I beseech you, Sir, what are we come to do here at
Epidamnum,
are you resolved to imitate the Sea, and go round all the Islands?
We are come hither in Search of a Brother, a Twin Brother, whom I look upon as one half of myself.
But what do you imagine will be the Issue of this Search, 'tis now six Years since we have wandered on the Sea in a vain Expectation of finding him; we have sailed round all
Istria, Spain,
the Country of the
Massilia
and
Illyria,
we have overrun all the
Adriatic
Sea,
barbarous Greece,
and all the Coasts of
Italy
that are washed by the Ocean? Had we been seeking for a Needle in a Bundle of Hay we should have found it by this Time, provided it was not invisible. In vain do we hope to find a dead Man amongst the Living, for if he were still in Being, shou'd we not have met with some one e'er now who cou'd have given some Intelligence of him?
I am determin'd never to give over my Search till I have found my Brother, or met with some Person, who having known him, can certainly inform me that he is dead. This pining Anxiety will then be at an End, and I will return to
Syracuse;
but till I have that Satisfaction, while Life animates this Body I will not cease to wander about the World, and seek him every where; too sensibly do I feel the Force of fraternal Affection to quit easily the Hope of seeing my Brother again.
Truly, Sir, you desire what can never possibly happen; in good Faith we wou'd do much better to return home, unless you design to write a History of the whole Earth.
No more of these satyrical Speeches, good Sir, but beware of drawing my Anger upon thee, and do not imagine thou can'st oblige me by thy Importunities to follow thy impertinent Councils.
How well, Sir, do you remind me that I am a Slave, you have said a great deal in very few Words, nothing cou'd be more clearly exprest, nevertheless it cannot prevent me from telling you my Thoughts.
Vouchsafe, Sir, to favour me with a Moment's Attention. When I examine our Purse, when I count the Pieces that are in it, by my Faith, Sir, I find we have not sufficient to maintain us much longer; 'tis light, very light by
Hercules!
Therefore if you do not make Haste home 'tis probable you may soon see it empty, and instead of finding your Brother, you will yourself fall into the Jaws of Necessity and Misery. For you must know, Sir, the People of
Epidamnum
practise but little the Virtue of Hospitality; they are a voluptuous Pe
ple, and immoderately addicted to Drinking. This City is full of Slanderers and Flatterers, Men without Justice and Probity; there are here also a great Number of Courtezans, who, as 'tis said, are the most alluring, and most dangerous of all that ever practised the Trade. In a Word, this City is called
Epidamnum
for this Reason, that every Stranger who enters it is damned.
'Tis fit then that I shou'd be cautious, and look about me. Give me my Purse?
What will you do with it?
What you have just now said fills me with Fear.
And what is it you fear pray?
That you may play me some damned Trick in
Epidamnum,
for I know thou art a great Debauchee,
Messenion,
and art cursedly fond of Women. Now I am easily excited to Anger, and in those Moments I am no longer Master of myself. Therefore by keeping my Money in my own Possession, I shall guard against two Inconveniencies. Thou wilt not have it in thy Power to be guilty of any Extravagances, and consequently I shall not have any Cause to be angry with thee.
Very well, Sir, there is your Purse, keep it yourself, that I may be as chaste as a Vestal, and you as peaceable as a Lamb.
SCENE II.
CYLINDRUS, MENAECHMUS SOSICLES, MESSENION.
I have bought Provision sufficient to make an excellent Repast for my three Guests, a Repast worthy of my superior Skill in Cookery, but what do I see!
Menaechmus
at our Door already, woe to my poor Shoulders! the Eaters are ready to set down to Table before I am returned from Market with the Victuals that I am to dress for them, I must speak to him? Good-morrow Mr.
Menaechmus.
Now the Gods bless thee, Fellow, dost thou know me?
CYLINDRUS.
Know you, Sir! a pleasant Question by
Hercules!
where are your Companions?
My Companions, whom dost thou mean Friend?
Your Parasite, for Example.
My Parasite, the Fellow is certainly mad.
Did I not tell you, Sir, this City was full of Sharpers?
Pray, young Man, who is this Parasite thou takest of?
Peniculus.
Cylindrus
is surprized at not seeing the Parasite,
Peniculus,
with
Menaechmus,
whom he takes for the
Menaechmus
of
Epidamnum,
and asks where he is,
Messenion
eplies, he has it safe in his Portmantua: The Equivocati
n is pleasant enough,
Cylindrus
speaks of a Man,
Messenion
affects to believe he means a Brush, for that In
trument was in
Latin
call'd,
Peniculus,
from
Penè,
or
Cauda,
Tail, it being generally made of one.
Oh! I have it here safe in my Portmantua.
You come in good Time, Sir, for Dinner, I am just returned from the Market, where I have bought what will make a delicious Repast.
Answer me, young Man, at what Price do they sell here the white Hogs that are destined for Sacrifices?
They are a Crown a Piece.
See, here is a Crown, which I will give thee on Condition that thou wilt purchase with it one of those Hogs, and let it be offered for thy Cure; for whoever thou art, 'tis certain thou art mad to importune in this Manner, a Man with whom thou art not acquainted.
I am
Cylindrus,
don't you know my Name?
What is thy Name to me, go about thy Business, I solemnly declare I know thee not, and what is more, I do not desire to know thee.
However, Sir, I have the Honour to know you, your Name is
Menaechmus,
I think
Ay, now thou speakest like a Man in th
Senses, that is indeed my Name, but wher
is it thou hast seen me before?
Ah! mighty well, where have I seen yo
you who are a Lover of
Erotia,
my fair M
tress.
By
Hercules
I am not in Love with a Woman, nor do I know who thou art.
Strange! how can you say so? is it not I who so often fill your Glass when you are merry at our House.
Oh! that I had a good Cudgel in my Hand that I might break the Head of this Fellow.
And so you often fill my Glass you say, I who am but this Moment arrived at
Epidamnum,
and was never here before in my Life.
Is it possible you can with a good Conscience deny what I say?
Deny it! yes, by
Hercules!
do I.
And perhaps you will deny also that that House yonder is not yours, and that you do not actually dwell in it?
May the Gods confound all the Males and Females that dwell in it, I say.
Certainly this Gentleman's Brain is cracked, or he would not curse himself in this terrible Manner? hark, Sir,
What woud'st thou?
Take my Word for it, Sir, your Brain is a little disordered, you would do well with that Crown you promised me some Time ago, to buy a Hog for an expiatory Sacrifice for yourself, for by
Hercules!
Mr.
Menaechmus,
you are certainly under the Influence of an evil Spirit, to curse thus, and sport with the Anger of the Gods.
Detestable Rascal, how he plagues me!
Ha! faith he is in one of his pleasant Humours, he often jests and diverts himself with me, for provided his Wife be not with him, he is always in good Spirits, and rallies incomparably.
What is that thou say'st?
Faith I know not what to say, you puzzle me so confoundedly, here, look into this Basket if you please, Sir, do you think I have bought Provision sufficient for you three, will what
have here make a Repast good enough for you, your Parasite, and your Mistress.
What Parasite, what Mistress do you talk of, Fellow?
What Fury excites thee to torment this Gentleman as thou dost?
Pray what Business have you with me? I know not who you are, suffer me to speak, without being interrupted by you, to this Gentleman, whom I know very well, and to whom I have the Honour to be known.
By the Temple of
Pollux!
Fellow, thou art mad, I know not if thou wert always so, but at present thou art absolutely mad, that's certain.
Good Sir, jest no longer, I beseech you, I am going to dress all these good Things, and put them by an excellent Seasoning into a fit State to be devoured. I assure you, Sir, all shall be ready in a little Time, therefore do not go far from the Door, but walk here near
he Fumes of the Kitchen. Have you any Commands to your Venus?
I command thee to go hang thyself?
But by
Hercules!
I think you would do better to come in, and seat yourself at Table, and drink a few Bumpers while I prepare your Dinner, pray do Sir.—Nay, if you won't I can't help it.—I'll go in myself and inform Madam
Erotia
that you are here, perhaps she will prevail upon you to come into the House and divert yourself; you will pass your Time much better there than here.
I am at last delivered from this Madman, by
Pollux,
this Beginning seems to be no bad Proof of what you told me of these Impostors of
Epidamnum.
Be upon your Guard then, Sir, 'tis absolutely necessary, for by what I can understand from this Fool, the Mistress he talks of is certainly a Courtezan.
But how should he know my Name, I am really surprized at it?
By
Hercules
there is nothing surprizing in it; you are not acquainted with the Arts of these Courtezans; when any foreign Vessels arrive, they send their Slaves to the Port to observe the Passengers that come ashore, when they see a young Man who seems fit for their Purpose they enquire his Name, his Family, and Country; they accost him, flatter, and sooth him, and draw him so dextrously into their Snares, that he is lost in Love before he enters the City: Ah! Sir, we are certainly attacked by a pirate Vessel, of which we have good Reason to be afraid.
By
Jupiter
thy Advice seems to be just and reasonable.
I shall be convinced that you think so, if I see you take all those necessary and prudent Measures, which may prevent your dashing yourself against this dangerous Rock.
Favour me with a Moment's Silence I beseech you, the Door opens, let us see who comes out?
With your Leave then, I will discharge myself of this heavy Burden, here you Rowers, who are the Feet of your Vessels, take it to your Care.
SCENE III.
EROTIA, CYLINDRUS, MENAECHMUS SOCICLES, MESSENION.
Speaking to her Servants within.
Leave the Door open, go, I do not want your Attendance, take Care to make every Thing ready within Doors; you
Cylindrus,
perform your Part well, and you Girls, prepare the Couches for the Table, burn the Perfumes, that my Lovers may be dissolved in Luxury and Ease, and nothing may be wanting to compleat the Voluptuousness of the Feast. Magnificence and Pleasures ruin our Gallants, but enrich us. But where is this teizing Man, who my Cook tells me is walking before my Door: Oh! I see him, the most generous, the most agreeable of all my Lovers, how much am I obliged to him for the Presents he is continually bestowing on me, I will treat him as I ought, with all the Distinction due to his Merit, and give him the Preference to all my other Lovers, 'tis fit I accost and speak to him first. My Love, what dost thou here? why dost not come into my House? thou who art more welcome to it than to thine own, nay, 'tis more thine than mine, for thou art Master both of it and me; every Thing is ready according to thy Order, all is prepared, every Wish shall be gratified, Dinner is served, there is nothing to hinder thee from placing thyself at Table.
To whom does this Woman think she is speaking?
Certainly to you, my Dear.
Have we ever had the least Occasion to speak to each other before, pray where did our Acquaintance first commence?
Venus,
my tutelary Deity, desirous of making me happy, brought thee first in my Way, thee whom I love more than the whole Race of Mankind besides, and by the Temple of
Castor,
in preferring thee to all other Men, I do thee but Justice, for 'tis to thy Liberalities alone that I am indebted for all the Pleasures I enjoy.
Certainly,
Messenion,
this Woman is either mad, or her Senses much disordered by Wine, that without knowing me, or having ever seen me before, she speaks to me as to the best Friend she has in the World.
Did I not foretel all this wou'd happen, Sir? ah! I knew it well, there is nothing more common here, 'tis the Leaves only at present which are falling on you, but if we stay here three Days longer, mark my Prediction, you will be crush'd by the Trees themselves. The Courtezans in this City have a wonderful Address, a charming Dexterity in emptying Purses, but with your Leave I'll venture to attack her myself. Good-morrow, Madam, will you permit me to speak a few Words to you?
Very willingly, what have you to say to me?
I desire much to know where you have been acquainted with this Gentleman?
Here at
Epidamnum,
we have been long acquainted.
At
Epidamnum,
you say you have been long acquainted with him, but how in the Name of the Furies can this be? since he but this Day arrived at
Epidamnum,
and was never here before.
Pooh, this is only to divert yourself, we will pursue this Jest within. Come, my dear
Menaechmus,
let us go into the House, we shall be more at our Ease there.
By the Temple of
Pollux
this Woman knows my Name! I am astonish'd, how cou'd this happen?
The Trull has a good Nose, she has smelt your Purse already, you shou'd have left it to my Care.
Faith thou art in the right, I have been guilty of great Folly in taking the Charge of the Money upon myself, here take it again, and now I shall see whether the Purse or my Person is the Object of her Love.
Come my Love, let us go in, the Repast it ready?
Certainly no Invitation was ever more agreeable; however, Madam, be pleased to accept my Thanks for your kind Offer, and dispence with me from accepting of it.
Since it is so, why did you order a great Repast to be prepared?
I! have I order'd it?
Yes, you; nothing is more certain than that you ordered a delicate Repast for yourself and your Parasite.
What Parasite? s'death, how the Woman raves!
Your Parasite,
Peniculus.
Who is this
Peniculus,
this Spunge, this Brush to clean Shoes?
I protest you counterfeit Ignorance perfectly well; this
Peniculus
then is one who affords you a great deal of Amusement; this
Peniculus
is in Body and Soul the same identical Person that was with you when you brought me the Robe that you had secretly stolen from your Wife.
Very convincing, by
Jupiter,
what will she not invent at last! so I have robb'd my Wife of a Robe and presented it to you; seriously, Madam, your Head is a little touch'd, or like a Gelding, you sleep standing.
What Pleasure can you find in making me your Jest? will you pretend to deny what pass'd before as many Witnesses as are present at this Instant?
Explain yourself more clearly, what is it that I deny?
That you have given me to Day a Robe of your Wife's.
And that I deny again, and will always deny it, I never had a Wife, and Thanks to the Gods, I have none at present. I never in my whole Life entered any House in
Epidamnum;
I never was in the City, I have dined in my Ship, and was but just come on Shore when I met you here.
Oh!
Venus,
how wretched am I! what Ship do you speak of?
A Ship made of Wood, which for a long Time has been under Sail. Sails, casts Anchor, is refitted, and has received many Blows with a Hammer; 'tis exactly like the Working Place of a Skinner, one Stake stands near another.
Cease to torment me with this idle Raillery, come in I conjure thee, I begin to grow impatient, no more of this Jest, but give me your Hand and come in with me.
Believe me, Madam, I'm not the Person whom you seek, you take me for another.
Do I not know you well? are you not
Menaechmus,
the Son of
Moschus?
is it not said that you was born at
Syracuse,
in
Sicily?
where
Agathocles
reign'd, after him
Pinthia,
then
Linaro,
who at his Death left the Kingdom to
Hieron,
who is now upon the Throne.
All this, Madam, is very true.
Oh!
Jupiter,
this Woman certainly came from your Country, she knows you so perfectly.
By
Hercules!
I cannot contradict, or refuse her any longer.
Ah! Sir, what do I hear? take Care how you give Way to this Inclination, if you once enter her House you are a lost Man.
I will not let so favourable an Occasion escape me, be silent then I command thee, I am resolved to acquies
e in all she says; there is no great Matter in lying a little when it will procure me a good Inn, where the Entertainment shall cost me nothing. Madam, I have opposed every Thing you said a long Time, but it was through Fear that my Servant wou'd discover the Affair of the Robe and Repast to my Wife; now, if you please, I will go in with you.
I am satisfied, and pardon you for your Malice in tormenting me thus long. But tell me, do you wait here for your Parasite?
I do not wait for him, I have no Inclination to see him, and if he comes I shou'd be glad you wou'd not permit him to enter.
By
Venus!
I'll obey you willingly, but I have one Favour to intreat of you?
Speak, my Queen, command me freely, what is it you wou'd have me do?
I wou'd have this fine Robe you have given me, carried to the Workman to be made fit for my Shape, and to have some little Ornaments of my own Taste and Invention added to it.
By
Hercules!
the Design is excellent, go, my Dear, I see you don't want Prudence; the Robe will by this means appear entirely new, and if even my Wife shou'd see it she will not be able to know it again.
Oblige me then by taking it to the Workman yourself when you go from hence, you promise me to do so, don't you, my Love?
Look upon it as already done, I give thee my Word of Love to perform it.
Let us go in then.
Do then, step in my Fair, I'll follow thee immediately, I must speak one Word to my Servant.
Messenion
—come hither.
Your Pleasure, Sir?
Softly, I have a Desire to know?
What?
I must.
What must you?
The Business is begun.
What Business?
Well, well, I know thou woud'st be giving me Advice.
And I know you value it but little.
The Beast is taken I tell thee, I hold my Prey in my Hand, how dexterously have I managed her? I am going to give a Loose to Mirth, in the mean Time thou and thy Companions go to some Inn, and before Night return and fetch me.
Ah, Sir! you know not these Courtezans, believe me, you wou'd do much better to follow my Council.
Be silent, I say to thee, if I am guilty of any Folly 'tis my Self that will suffer, this is no Business of thine, by what I have observed this Woman is very silly, and easily imposed upon, 'tis she, and not I that will be the Dupe.
Ah! I die, he is lost.
Why dost thou not go?
I fly Sir? Ah! my Master is plunging himself into an Abyss, from whence he will never come out; 'tis so, the Pirate's Vessel carries off our Barque at last, but I am a Fool to pretend to govern my Master—Have I forgot my Duty, he bought me for his Slave, not for his Governor, let me remember that, follow me Boys, I must come back in good Time to fetch my Master.
End of the Second Act.
ACT III.
SCENE I.
DURING these thirty Years, which I have lived, I have never been guilty of so wicked, so unhappy an Action as this Day; my cruel Destiny led me into an Assembly, where, while I lost my Time in gaping and staring about me,
Menaechmus
escaped me. Ah! without Doubt he is gone to the House of his Mistress, and was not willing that I shou'd accompany him, and be a Witness of his Pleasures: May the Gods pour down their fiercest Wrath upon him who first introduced Assemblies, and thereby hindered People who have important Affairs upon their Hands from pursuing their Business. Assemblies ought only to be composed of indolent and idle Persons, such ought to be summoned to appear, and when they don't obey, be punished by large Fines. A great many of the Inhabitants of this City eat always alone, and in private. Citizens, wholly useless to their Country, who have never performed the least Service to the Commonwealth, mean sordid Wretches, that invite no Person to their Table, and are never invited to others. Such as these ought regularly to assist at Assemblies and public Meetings.
If this excellent Order, this useful Custom had been observed, I shou'd not to Day have had the Misfortune of losing so plentiful and delicious a Repast, for I am as well assured that
Menaechmus
had once a Design to treat me this Day, as I am among the Number of the Living. However I will go to him as late as it is, I have always Hopes of finding some Remains of the Feast; this Thought alone consoles me, and raises my depress'd Spirits; but is not that
Menaechmus
himself that I see? he is coming out with a Crown of Flowers on his Head, ah! miserable that I am, the Feast is finish'd, they are risen from Table, by all the Furies! I am come too late.
SCENE II.
MENAECHMUS SOSICLES, PENICULUS.
If I bring you back to Day your Robe fitted to your Shape, and adorned as you desire, will you be contented, my Charmer? I will have it done in such a Manner that you yourself shall not be able to know it again.
So, so, he is going to carry the Robe to the Workman after having filled himself well with Meat and Wine, without giving the poor Parasite his Share; by
Hercules!
I will forfeit my illustrious Name, I will cease to be myself rather than not demand the Cause of this Affront, and gratify my Vengeance on the Author of it; here will I watch the Motions of my new Enemy, and when I have penetrated into his Designs I will accost him, and have a Conference with him.
Ye Gods! who cannot die, although sometimes ye desire Death: Immortal Gods! is there a Man in the World on whom in one Day you have conferred so many Benefits, and who expected them so little? I have eaten of most delicious Fare, I have drank plentifully, and what is still better, I have possessed a charming
Courtezan,
and to compleat my good Fortune, I carry away with me a rich Robe, which
Erotia
wou'd have done well to have given me to remember her by, for by the Faith of an honest Man she shall never see it again.
How securely the Gentleman disburthens his Heart of its Gaiety! and now that his Belly is full, without doubt he diverts himself at my Expence, and laughs in his Sleeve at the Fast I have kept, while he was indulging himself over his good Cheer.
She pretends that I have given her this fine Robe, and that I stole it from my Wife, I wou'd not undeceive her, but began to flatter and caress her as if I had been the most passionate of her Lovers, I agreed to all she said, answered Yes, or No, as she pleased, in short I was never more splendidly, more voluptuously entertained in my Life.
Oh! I can no longer contain myself, I must speak to him.
Who is this Man that comes to meet me?
What can you say for yourself, light, wavering, and inconstant Man? tell me, oh, most wicked, most villainous most deceitful, most contemptible of all Mortals, what Crime have I been guilty of towards thee, that thou shouldst thus barbarously rob me of Life? how cou'd you leave me so basely in the public Square, and in my Absence bury a large Repast in your gluttonous Maw? how have you dared to commit such daring Injustice? for can you deny that a Share of this Feast was not my lawful Inheritance?
What is the meaning of this Outrage, young Man? what Business have you ever had with me? and why do you load with such injurious Reproaches a Man entirely unknown to you? do you want to oblige me to pay you for the ill Names you have called me with as many good Blows with my Cudgel?
You have done me more Misehief already than if you had beaten me.
By your Leave, young Man, what is your Name, I have a great Curiosity to know it?
What Joke is this, to pretend to be ignorant of my Name, has our Acquaintance then commenced but this Moment?
By the Temple of
Pollux
this is the first Time I ever saw you, at least for what I know, but certain I am that I have no Acquaintance with you; but whoever you are for your own Sake cease your injurious Language, and torment me no longer with your mistaken Reproaches.
Dare you thus confidently deny that you know me?
If I do know you, what Reason can I have to deny it?
Ah!
Menaechmus,
awake from this Dream, and recall your Senses?
By
Hercules
I think I am awake, and I have all the Senses that I received from Nature.
Is it possible that you don't know your Parasite?
You are mad, young Man, stark mad, by
Jupiter.
Answer this Question, I beseech you, did you not rob your Wife of a Robe to Day to make a Present to your Mistress,
Erotia?
By
Hercules
I have no Wife, nor have I given a stolen Robe to
Erotia.
Amazing! you dream waking, the Thing is incontestable, did I not see you a Moment ago come out of
Erotia
's House with a Robe on your Body?
Confound you for an Ideot, you judge of others by yourself, and because you are a ridiculous Fop, you think I am so also; so you really say you have seen me in a Female Habit?
Yes, I maintain it, I have seen you,
Go hang yourself, Blockhead, or rather go and offer an expiatory Sacrifice to the Gods, that they may cure you of this Folly, for you are certainly the most stupid of all Mortals.
I swear by the Temple of
Pollux!
mark me,
Menaechmus,
that no Consideration whatever shall hinder me from telling your unhappy Wife this whole Affair; yes, she shall know every Thing that has passed without the least Disguise; and thus the Injuries you have done me shall fall heavy upon yourself; I will enjoy my Revenge at my Ease, and console myself with that for the good Cheer you have had the Barbarity to deprive me of, for oh! this Disappointment to Day tortures me horribly, depend upon it I will be revenged, it shall never be said you have devour'd all this excellent Feast for nothing. I tell you again it shall cost you dear.
Will this Delusion never have an end? shall I be eternally mock'd in this Manner? every Person I see banters me, and accuses me of Things I am entirely ignorant of, by
Hercules!
this is very provoking, but the Door opens, what will come next?
SCENE III.
A Maid Servant, MENAECHMUS SOSICLES.
Mr.
Menaechmus,
my Mistress
Erotia
intreats you will buy an Ounce of Gold to be added to the Robe, and that you will also carry this Bracelet to the Goldsmith, and desire him to mend it, and alter it so that it may appear quite new.
Go, my Child, tell thy Mistress from me that I will carefully perform her Commission, and not only this, but any other she pleases to command me, my Purse and my Person shall be always at her Service.
Do you know this Bracelet?
No, but I perceive it is Gold.
'Tis the same Bracelet which you said some Time ago you had stolen out of your Wife's Cabinet.
By
Hercules!
I never said so.]
What! have you forgot it? give me the Bracelet again then, since you do not remember it was yours.
Stay, stay, let me consider a little—Oh! I remember the Jewel perfectly well, yes it is the same Bracelet, I gave to my Mistress, the very same.
You are sure of it then?
Very sure, but where are the two other Jewels that I gave her at the same Time?
You gave her no more than this Bracelet.
By
Pollux!
when I gave her this I gave her the others.
Well▪
ke Care of this.
You may assure her that I will not neglect any Thing she commands, I will give the Workman Orders to send home the Robe, and the Bracelet at the same Time.
Ah! sweet Sir, do me the Favour to give me a Pair of Gold Earings, about the Weight of two Crowns; come, Mr.
Menaechmus,
comply generously with this Request, and be assured I will always meet you with Smiles when you come to our House.
Oh! I will do this with Pleasure, only give me the Gold, and I'll take Care to have the Earings made, and will pay for the Fashion.
Be so good, Sir, to lend me the Gold, I'll certainly pay you some Time or other.
No, no, I insist upon your furnishing the Gold yourself; look into your Hoards and bring me the two Pieces.
I'll enter into an Engagement to pay it back double.
I have no Gold at present.
Well, you'll oblige me when you have; have you any Commands to my Mistress?
Tell her the Robe and the Bracelet shall be sent very soon, and alter'd to her Fancy. So she is gone, the Door is shut. Oh! fortunate
Menaechmus,
certainly thou art highly favoured by the Gods? what a Profusion of Benefits have they showered upon thee? but what a Fool am I to linger here? why do I not seize this favourable Opportunity to make my Escape. Go then,
Menaechmus,
Courage, Man, haste away, and make good Use of thy Feet; I'll throw my Crown of Flowers on the left Hand, so if they shou'd take it into their Heads to pursue me, they will suppose I went that Way. Now will I go seek my Slave,
Messenion,
for I am impatient to tell him what good Fortune the Gods have sent me.
End of the Third Act.
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
The Wife of MENAECHMUS of
Epidamnum,
PENICULUS the Parasite.
HOW can I think of living with a Husband who robs me of my Cloaths to present to his Mistress?
In the Name of
Jupiter,
Madam, make no Noise, you will spoil all; if you will be directed by me, you shall surprize this unfaithful Husband in the very fact. Come this Way, I beseech you, your Husband hath drank plentifully, and intoxicated as he is he wou'd not neglect carrying the Robe he robb'd you of to Day to the Workman, he had a festal Crown upon his Head. Ha! what do I see here? the very same Crown by
Hercules,
now I hope you do not doubt me, he has certainly taken this Way, shall we follow him, or watch his Return where we are? by
Pollux!
here he comes, but I tell you beforehand he has not your Robe with him.
What shall I do with this Man?
What shall you do, have you not the same Weapon in your Possession that you always had? the same Instrument of Vengeance? In short, have you not the same Tongue? make Use of it now then, and be reveng'd.
Your Advice is very good, I shall follow it, and truly I don't need many Persuasions to it.
Let us retire this Way a little, we will rush out upon him at once and surprize him.
SCENE II.
MENAECHMUS of
Epidamnum,
his Wife, and PENICULUS.
We have a Custom here that is no less foolish than troublesome, and yet the wisest and best of us continue to observe it exactly, we are extremely desirous of having a great Number of Dependants, and of being perpetually solicited by Clients, but never give ourselves the Trouble to enquire whether they are good or bad; we never concern ourselves about their Probity, their Integrity, or the Merit of their Cause; all we desire to know is if they are rich. If the Client is poor, though his Behaviour be ever so unexceptionable, yet he passes for a Man who has very bad Principles; if he be rich, however wicked and base his Life and Manners, yet we extol him for a Man of great Virtue; there are some who regard neither Law or Equity, who are continually persecuting their Patrons, who deny to have received what has been given them, and who having acquired large Fortunes by Usury and swearing falsely, delight in continually involving themselves and others in Lawsuits; when they have determined on a Day to have their Causes pleaded, they acquaint their Advocates or Patrons with it, and whatever Crimes they have committed, they must defend them whether the Cause be pleaded before the People, before the Pretor, or before the Judge.
A Client of this Sort has been the Cause of all my Mortification to Day; he disappointed me in all my Designs, and robb'd me of those Hours I had resolved to dedicate to Pleasure, I have pleaded for him before the Ediles, and after a great deal of wicked Disputation I offered the adverse Party Conditions equally cruel and unjust, and mindful of my Disappointment, went no farther in my Pleading than what was just necessary to form an Engagement upon
The Pleaders on both Sides were obliged to lay down a certain Sum of Money, which each Party looked upon as the Reward of Victory, this Money was called a Fine, because it was the design'd Punishment of a Law-suit unjustly undertaken.
. Well what did my Client? Why he gave Security. I protest I never saw a Man so clearly, so manifestly convicted; the Crimes he was accused of were proved upon him by three Witnesses. May all the Gods punish him for the voluptuous Hours he has made me lose this Day! and may Heaven chastise me also for my Folly, in going to the Assembly and depriving myself of a delicious Day.
I ordered a good Repast to be prepared, and I know my Mistress waits for me with great Impatience, I could not help this Delay, I left the Assembly as soon as possible, I do not doubt but
Erotia
will be extremely offended, but she will be appeased by reflecting on the fine Robe I stole from my Wife to present to her.
Do you hear? is it I that have made him confess this Villainy? what do you say to this?
I say that I am very unhappy in a Husband.
But did you understand what he said?
Too well, Oh! Gods too well!
If I act wisely I shall certainly go in here, where I shall be more at my Ease than at Home, and swim in Luxury and Pleasure.
Stay Wretch, for this Time I will disappoint you, Detection and Shame have overtaken you, thou shalt pay back with Interest the Robe you have robb'd me of, this is the Consequence of such Liberalities; were you such a Fool as to imagine such Crimes cou'd be long concealed or committed with Impunity?
What do you mean, Wife? what is the Matter?
Excessive Assurance! dare you ask me what is the Matter?
Wou'd you have me ask this Man then?
No Coaxing—it will signify nothing, go on, Madam, maintain your Rights as you ought.
What Cause have I given you,
Peniculus,
to treat me so ill?
You ought to know.
He is not ignorant of the Reason I have to c
mplain of him, but the wicked Wretch pretends to know nothing about it.
But come explain this Business to me?
The Robe,
What Robe?
Who was it that carried away my Robe?
What are you afraid, Sir?
Yes, faith, of one Thing, I confess this Robe makes me tremble.
'Tis your Turn now, I trembled, Heaven knows, while you eat in my Absence that exquisite Repast to which you had invited me; go on, Madam, do not spare this perfidious Husband, let him feel the Violence of your Resentment.
Wilt thou not be silent, ungrateful as thou art?
No, by
Hercules!
I will not be silent, he makes Signs to me to say nothing.
By
Hercules!
thou lvest, I made no Sign either with my Head or Eyes.
How unhappy, how miserable am I?
In what are you unhappy, tell me, Madam?
This Man has not his Equal for Impudence in the whole World, with what Confidence he denies a Thing as clear as the Sun.
I swear to thee, Wife, by
Jupiter,
and all the immortal Gods, I did not make any Sign to this Fellow. Are you satisfied?
You need not take much Pains to persuade her to believe that, stay, stay, Sir, we have not done with you yet, pray come back?
Come back, for what?
In my Opinion you cannot do better than to go to the Embroiderer and bring back the Robe, this is all you have for it now.
What Robe is it that you both stun my Ears with thus?
What have I to do but be silent since he pretends to have forgot this disgraceful Action?
Have any of my Slaves offended thee, Wife? I know Servants often answer saucily, and 'tis difficult to govern them, but you need only complain to me, and I will chastise them severely, I'll make them observe their Duty.
You are merry, Sir.
You seem to labour with some violent Uneasiness, Wife, Sorrow is painted on your Face, tell me the Cause.
You mock her certainly.
Has any of the Family offended her?
You are pleasant, you turn her into Ridicule.
Is it with me then that she is angry?
Aye, now you speak seriously.
By
Pollux!
I never did her the least Injury.
Now you begin to rally again.
Tell me, my dear Wife, what is the Cause of your Uneasiness?
He begins to flatter now, beware of him.
Mischievous Fellow, can't you hold your Tongue, 'tis your Business to be neuter here, I say nothing to you, why then do you torment me?
Let my Hand alone, keep your Caresses for your Mistress.
Mind that, Sir, another Time make haste to devour the Feast in my Absence, and afterwards laugh at me, insult me, and throw your Crown of Flowers on the Ground when you have eaten and drank plentifully.
What dost thou mean, I have not eaten to Day, I am yet fasting, nor have I been with
Erotia
since I parted from her with you.
Dare you deny it.
Yes, by
Hercules,
I dare, and will maintain that your Reproaches are as false as Hell.
Most impudent of Men! did I not see you a Moment ago come out of
Erotia
's House with a festal Crown upon your Head? did you not treat me like a Fool or a Madman? swear you knew me not, and that you only this Day arrived at
Epidamnum?
How is it possible I shou'd have had this strange Conversation with you, since I have never seen you since we parted at the Assembly till this Moment?
Ah, I know the very bottom of your Heart, you did not think I was capable of taking a severe Revenge for the Injury you did me, but by
Hercules
you was deceived, for I have told all to your Wife.
How! what is it thou hast told her?
I have forgot, take the Trouble to ask her.
'Tis well, Rascal. My dear Wife, what is it this Rogue of a Parasite has told you? tell me? why are you silent? speak freely, open your Heart to me without Disguise?
As if you knew not the Cause of my Grief, my rich Robe is stolen from me.
Is it possible! your rich Robe stolen, say you? what News is this you tell me?
Ought you to be surprised at this News?
If I knew how it happened I wou'd procure you Satisfaction.
With what Assurance he dissembles and pretends Ignorance of the Fact! but it is all to no Purpose, your Roguery cannot be concealed; for by
Hercules,
I who know it have discovered all to your Wife.
What have you discovered?
Since you have lost all Shame, and are resolved to persist in your Falsehood, hear me, Wretch, I will tell you the Cause of my Uneasiness, and what your Parasite has informed me of, my Robe is stolen out of my House.
But seriously, have you been robb'd of a Robe?
Subtle Wretch, how he equivocates! the Robe is stolen that's certain, Madam, and stolen for a Whore.
What have you to do in this Affair? but what is it you tell me, Wife?
Must I repeat it eternally! I tell you again that my Robe is taken out of the House.
Who has taken it?
By
Pollux
he that took it knows the Thief very well.
Who is that Man?
One
Menaechmus.
By
Jupiter
it was a villainous Action, but who is this
Menaechmus?
Yourself.
Me! me! do you say?
Yes, you I say.
Who is my Accuser?
Myself.
And I also, nay more, I will prove that you stole away the Robe to carry it to your Mistress,
Erotia.
I! have I given a Robe to any one?
You, you, no other than you, must we bring an Owl hither to scream out You, without ceasing, in your Ears, your Wife and I are fatigued with repeating this Word so often.
I swear to you, Wife, by
Jupiter,
and all the Gods (sure this will satisfy you) that I have not given away your Robe.
And we swear to you by
Hercules!
that we do not lye.
Then you know that I have not given away the Robe, I have only lent it for a little Time, upon Condition that when the Person who borrow'd has made Use of it once, it shall be returned immediately.
By the Temple of
Castor!
I never lend any of your Coats, or Cloaks, to any Person whatever, it belongs to me only to lend my Cloaths, and to you to do what you please with your own.
Don't be uneasy, your Robe shall be brought back to you, I will take that trouble upon myself.
It will be your Interest to do so, for depend upon it if you do not bring back my Robe you shall never come into my House again.
How! will you shut my own Doors upon me? will you presume to banish me from my own House?
But pray, Madam, what Reward will you bestow upon me for informing you of this Roguery?
When such an Accident happens to you I will do you the same Service you have done me.
By the Temple of
Pollux
I am in no Danger of such an Accident happening to me, for I have nothing to lose. May the Gods confound the Husband and Wife, both I say, what can I do now? I must even go to the public Square, and see if I can fasten upon any body who will give me a Meal, for I have nothing more to expect from this ingrateful Family.
So my better Half imagines she has mortified me extremely by banishing me from home, Fool! as if I had not another Place to go to, where I shall pass my Time more agreeably than with a scolding Wife. If my Wife is offended I have the Consolation to think that my
Erotia
will receive me with open Arms; she will not banish me from her, no, she will welcome me with Transport—I will go to her immediately, and intreat her to give me back this cursed Robe which has occasioned so much Noise, and I will buy her a better. Hollo, who is there, what neither Porter nor Portress? open the Door, I say, and tell your Mistress I am here.
SCENE III.
EROTIA, MENAECHMUS of
Epidamnum,
Who is it that asks for me?
One that loves you more than his own Life.
What is it you, my dear
Menaechmus,
why do you stay at the Door? what new Whim is this? come in my Love.
Stay a little, can you tell what occasions this Visit?
'Tis easy to guess, my Friend, you are come to take a little Repast with me.
MENAECHMUS.
You are mistaken, my Charmer, and not to keep you long in Suspence, hear what I have to say, though I am afraid it will not be very agreeable, in short I am come to intreat you will return me the Robe I gave you this Morning, my Wife has been informed of all that is past, you may judge if she be not in a great Rage; be so kind as to give me back her Robe, and I promise to buy you another of twice the Value, and you shall chuse it yourself.
Sure you know not what you say! my Dear, have you forgot that I gave you the Robe to carry to the Workman, and a Bracelet also at the same Time, which I desired you wou'd get alter'd for me?
What do you say? that you have given me the Robe and the Bracelet? there is not any Thing more false, go Child, look in your Drawers, or rather reflect a little, for since the Time that I gave you that Robe, and quitted you to the Assembly, I have not had the Pleasure of seeing your Face till this Moment.
Ah! I see your Design, I have found you out, because I was silly enough to give you an Occasion to make a Fool of me, you are resolved to make Use of it.
By
Pollux!
I have no bad Intention in making you this Demand, you may believe what you please, but I assure you my Wife knows all.
Did I ask you to give me this Robe? did you not voluntarily make me a Present of it? you demand it again now, be it so, I am very willing to resign it, keep it, do what you will with it, return it to your Wife, but be assured you shall never enter my House again; and since you reward my Tenderness so ill, I am resolved for the future you shall obtain nothing of me but what you purchase with Gold— Go—seek elsewhere for a Mistress, whom you can impose upon.
What, in the Name of
Hercules,
is all this Rage for? indeed you are in the wrong. What going, stay, I say,
Erotia,
return hither.
Are you there still? how dare you call me?
Ha! she is gone in, and has shut the Door close after her, by
Jupiter
I am in a very agreeable Situation, banish'd by my Wife, excluded by my Mistress, shamefully dismissed by both. What shall I do? neither of them will trust me again, I must consult my Friends upon this Misfortune, and follow their Advice.
End of the Fourth Act.
ACT V.
SCENE I.
MENAECHMUS SOSICLES, the Wife of MENAECHMUS of
Epidamnum.
I Committed a great Folly when I confided my Purse to the Care of
Messenion,
the Rascal is certainly wasting his Time and my Money in some Baudy-House.
I am impatient to know if my Husband will return home again. Ha! there he is, I am happy, he brings me back my Robe.
I cannot imagine where this Slave of mine is.
I'll meet him, and scold him as he deserves, are you not ashamed, wicked Man, as you are to appear before me with that Robe.
Hey! what is the meaning of this? certainly, Madam, you have lost your Wits.
How! impudent Wretch, have you the Boldness to open your Mouth to answer me?
What Crime have I been guilty of to be condemned to keep my Mouth shut, pray?
Dare you ask that Question? insolent! shameless! most wicked of all Mortals!
Hum—Pray, Madam, have you read History enough to know why the
Greeks
call'd Queen
Hecuba
a Bitch?
Not I —
Because Misfortunes having deprived this old Princess of her Senses, she talked in the Manner you do now, and loaded every Person she saw with Abuse. 'Twas with Justice therefore that the
Greeks
gave her the Appellation of Bitch.
'Tis absolutely impossible to bear with your Irregularities any longer, I wou'd much rather chuse to live like a Widow the remainder of my Days, than with a Husband that abandons himself to such monstrous Excesses.
If you have Resolution enough to live without Man, and abandon your Spouse, what is that to me pray? is it the Custom in
Epidamnum
for Women of Distinction to fasten upon Strangers just arrived, and acquaint them with the Secrets of their Families?
Yes, I repeat it, our Union shall be dissolved, I wou'd rather pass my Days in the most rigid Chastity than suffer any longer your horrible Disorders.
By
Hercules!
with all my Heart, live a Widow to Eternity, you have my free Consent.
But dare you, insolent that you are, dare you deny that you stole my Robe, when at this Moment you wear it on your Body as an Ornament? Wretch! how cou'd you be guilty of such an Action without blushing, or rather without being ready to expire with Shame?
By
Hercules!
Madam, this is past bearing, and all the Respect I owe your Sex cannot hinder me from telling you that you are as bold as wicked, to charge me with having robb'd you of this Robe, when it was given me by a Woman whom I believe you never saw, to get alter'd for her.
Ah! this is too much—they will make me desperate. By
Castor
I will send for my Father; and give him an exact Account of your fine Behaviour. Who's there? One of you go to my Father, and tell him I beg to see him immediately upon an Affair of Consequence. Now, Sir, your Debaucheries shall be all exposed, I will paint you in your proper Colours.
Are you crazy, Mistress, what Debaucheries am I guilty of pray?
When you rob me, who am your Wife, and a too too faithful one for such a Husband, when you rob me, I say of my Cloaths and Jewels, and give them publickly to your Whore, can you wonder that I complain of such Treatment?
In the Name of
Hercules,
Madam, I beseech you, tell me if you can, is there any Drug, any Potion, that if I drank wou'd give me Spirits to support your amazing Boldness? I wou'd fain know who you take me for? for my Part I declare I know you not, nor ever saw you before.
Though you divert yourself with turning me into Ridicule, yet sure you will have some Consideration, some Respect for my Father, whom I have sent for. Ha! here he comes, look on him, know you this venerable old Man, Sir?
Just as well as the Prophet
Calchus,
I tell you this is the first Time I ever saw him.
Wretch! wilt thou deny that thou know'st me or my Father?
Yes, by
Hercules!
and your Grandfather also.
Amazing Impudence.
SCENE II.
The Old Man, Father-in-law of MENAECHMUS of
Epidamnum,
the Wife of the same, and MENAECHMUS SOSICLES.
I am going to my Daughter's House as fast as my great Age will permit me, but well I know this Walk will be very difficult, for every Step is slower than the former, I sink under the Weight of Years, and drag a heavy Body, which my Limbs are hardly able to support; my Strength is almost gone, I carry my Years on my Back like bad Merchandize, for this wicked old Age, whenever it comes, brings with it a great many Followers, a Croud of Inconveniencies and natural Defects; in short, old Age is subject to so many Miseries that if I undertook to recount them I shou'd die before the Detail was ended. But besides the Pain of being old, which is not small, I am assaulted by a new Affliction that touches me sensibly; my Daughter has sent for me in a violent Hurry, she intreats that I will come immediately; what can be the occasion of this Message? what Accident has happened? my Imagination represents a thousand different Things to me, all equally tormenting.
But what I am most surprised at is, that my Daughter has sent only a general Message, which gives me no Light into the Affair. Ah! she wou'd have done better to have spared me this Anxiety by informing me exactly what the Business is. Mean Time I conjecture, I divine, and I am much deceived if I am not right, some new Family Storm, some domestic Hurricane has occasioned this Message. Women who bring large Portions to their Husbands expect to make them wear the Yoke; these Women I say are generally very bad, and if the poor Husband endeavours but ever so little to maintain his Right of Superiority, the House will be always full of Noise; the Husbands indeed often abuse their Power, and then 'tis they who are in the wrong. To render the conjugal State happy, 'tis necessary that the Authority of the Husband ought to be exerted with Prudence; and the Submission of the Wife be bounded by Reason; by
Pollux!
it certainly is not for any trivial Matter that my Drughter has sent for me, 'tis something of Consequence, but whatever it is I shall know presently. Ha! do I not see this Couple before the Door of their House; the Husband has a discontented Air, his Uneasiness is painted in his Countenance, how well have I guess'd! they are quarrelling, ah! I am seldom deceived. I must begin my Interposition by first speaking to the Wife.
My dear Father.
How do you, my Daughter? am I welcome? what good News have you for me? but you look sad, what is the Cause? why does your Husband look so angrily on you? you have certainly had a Battle between you, at least with your Tongues; tell me truly, Daughter, which of you two is most in Fault? and merits most the paternal Censure? tell me in few Words all I ought to be acquainted with, either as Judge or Mediator.
I must first assure you, my dear Father, that I am guilty of no Fault; you may rely absolutely upon this Testimony of my Innocence, though given by myself, but at the same Time, Father, I declare to you that it is impossible for me to live any longer here, I therefore conjure you to separate me from this Man, and take me home to you again.
What's this I hear! have you Reasons sufficient to induce you to make me this Demand?
I am slighted, I am despised, and am obliged to bear the most cruel, the most shocking Indignities.
Who is it that treats you so unworthily?
That Man there, who promised you to love me and make me happpy, him who bears the Name of Husband to me, and oh! more wretched me, whose Wife I too certainly am.
How often have I warned you, my Daughter, to exert all your Prudence in avoiding Quarrels, that neither your Husband or you might have any Occasion to make me Complaints.
But how can I obey you in this? my Father, you suppose the Thing possible, but I swear to you solemnly it is not.
Is it to me you address yourself?
Yes, if you will have the Goodness to hear me.
Alas! how many Times have I recommended it to you, Daughter, to conform to the Will of your Husband, you ought never to observe where he goes, or what he does, or endeavour to pry into his Diversions, or Intrigues.
But he is in Love with a professed Courtezan, who lives in our Neighbourhood.
Is he so! faith I like him the better for it, and to reward you for your Diligence in discovering this Intrigue, I will do my best to forward it, and engage your Spouse in new Gallantries.
But alas, Sir! his Debaucheries are not confined to Women alone, he drinks there to Excess, and buries himself in Voluptuousness in this infamous Brothel.
What is it to you where he drinks? how far will you carry your Insolence? why do you not forbid him to go abroad, or to invite any Person to his Table? Do you expect that Husbands will relinquish their Authority, and take Pleasure in serving their Wives, and becoming Slaves to their unreasonable Wills; you might with equal Justice expect your Husband to sit amongst your Maids and spin.
Alas, Father! you did not come I find to be my Patron; my Message has procured a good Advocate for my Husband? you are here indeed at my Request, but you plead only against me.
If your Husband is faulty, I declare myself against him, and I shall condemn him more severely than I have done you, from his Advocate I shall become his Accuser; but since I find that he supplies you with every Thing you want, and maintains you in Elegance and Splendor, in my Opinion, a Woman of Sense ought to be contented with these Proofs of Affection, and endeavour to merit them by Sweetness and Complacency.
Ah, Father! I have only told you the slightest of his Faults—Wou'd you think it— This kind Husband opens my Cabinets, takes away my Cloaths, my Gold, my Jewels, to enrich and adorn his Whore.
Oh! if he does so he does very ill, but on the other Side, if this should be a Falshood, a Calumny, you are guilty of a most enormous Crime, in thus aspersing the Innocence of your Spouse.
I can give you an immediate Proof of the Truth of what I say; at this Instant he has a Robe and Bracelet of mine about him; he had given them to his Mistress, but finding I had discovered his Baseness, he brought back his Booty apparently through Shame and Necessity.
I will know from himself the bottom of this Affair, I will accost him, and give him Audience in his Turn as a good and impartial Judge is obliged to do. Your Servant, Son-in-law, I wou'd fain know the Occasion of your Uneasiness, you seem to be angry with your Wife? what is the Subject of your Dispute, pray tell me?
Good Man, whoever you are, I take
Jupiter
and all the Gods to witness—
Upon what Account? why do you thus invoke the Inhabitants of Heaven?
I swear by
Jupiter,
and all his Court, that I have not offered the least Injury whatever to this Woman here. She accuses me of no less than robbing her of a Robe, and this suppos'd Crime is so strongly impressed on her Imagination, that she is ready to swear I am guilty of it. But I beseech you, Sir, take Notice of what I am going to say, if ever I was within the House of this Lady, I wish I may become the most miserable of all Mortals.
What do you say,
Menaechmus!
are you mad? can any Thing be more extravagant than such a Wish? You swear you have never been within her House, and yet 'tis there that you dwell, surely this is a very wild and ridiculous Sally.
And do you really say, Sir, that I actually dwell in this House here.
And do you, Sir, dare to deny it?
Yes, by
Hercules!
and I will maintain it.
Then you will maintain a Falshood with the highest Degree of Impudence, unless you removed last Night, and fix'd your Dwelling in some other Place.
Come hither, Daughter. Well,
Menaechmus!
what do you answer to that? have you really removed from hence?
To go whither? and upon what Business?
By
Pollux!
I know not.
Indeed, Father, this Man laughs at you.
Daughter, be silent. Come,
Menaechmus,
be serious I beseech you; you have jested with us long enough.
Prithee, White-head, what is your Business with me? from whence come you? who are you? what have I done to you? or what in Conscience and Honour has this Woman to reproach me with, that she torments me in this Manner?
How his Colour changes! how he trembles! observe his Eyes, my Father, how fierce and wild they look!
These wise People will have it that I am mad; 'tis well, I will confirm them in that Opinion, I cannot make use of a better Stratagem to free myself from their tormenting Importunities.
Come hither, Daughter, stand further from that Man.
How wild and fierce he looks, he seems to be collecting all his Force to rush on us, great Gods! what shall we do?
Evoé, Evoé, Bromie. Oh! Son of
Jupiter
from what Part of the Forest dost thou call me to the Chace? I hear thy Voice, and wou'd obey, but cannot get loose from this Place, a furious Woman, like an enrag'd Bitch, seizes me on the left Side, and on the other an old Man that stinks like a Goat; a Man that made the innocent perish by bearing false Witness against them.
Perish thyself, thou abominable Lyar.
Ha! I hear
Apollo
from the Depth of his Sanctuary; he commands me to burn out the Eyes of this wicked old Man with two flaming Flambeaux.
Alas! my Father, we are lost, he threatens to burn out our Eyes.
Have I not Cause to complain? they will have it that I am mad, yet certainly they themselves have lost the Use of their Reason if ever they had any, which indeed is much to be doubted.
Daughter, a Word with you.
What shall we do, Father, in this new Disress?
The best Thing we can do, I believe, is to get some Slaves to bind this Madman, and then carry him into the House, where he may be confined before he commits greater Disorders.
Ha! will you so? faith, I believe this will prove a scurvy Jest after all if I don't extricate myself quickly out of their Hands, they'll certainly carry me into the House and make me a Prisoner—Again I hear the Voice of
Apollo,
he commands me not to spare my Nails, but to make a dreadful Havoc in the Face of this old Man, unless he goes away immediately to hang himself—Yes, great Divinity, you shall be obeyed, nor will I fail to exercise the Vigour of my Arms upon the Face of the Woman also.
Fly, fly, my Daughter, secure yourself in the House, I am afraid this Madman will strike you.
I go, but oh! my Father, take Care that he does not escape. Alas! unhappy Woman that I am, to see my Husband in this miserable Condition.
Good! I have succeeded in sending the Fury hence, I must now also put to Flight this old Wretch, this long Beard, this
Tithon,
this shivering Body, this Son of
Cignus,
with his white head. Great
Apollo,
you command me to bruise his Sides, to break his Bones, to crush his Members, and that with the very same Stick which he carries in his Hand to support his tottering Steps with.
Stay where you are, Madman, advance no farther, for if you have the Impudence to touch me, or only offer to approach me, you shall severely repent it.
I will faithfully follow your Orders,
Apollo,
my Master and Inspirer, I will take a Saw with two Edges, I will grind his Bones, I will rip up his Belly, and cut his Entrails to Pieces.
I must be upon my Guard, he keeps his Eyes fix'd upon me, he has a menacing Air, he will certainly rush upon my poor Skeleton and do me a Mischief.
How many Orders you give me at one Time, divine
Apollo,
what shall I do first? Ha! thou sayst I must take a Set of untamed furious Horses, and ascend a Car to hunt this Lyon of
Getulia,
this stinking Lyon without Teeth, 'tis done—I am already mounted on the Car, I press the Seat, one Hand grasps the Reins, the other holds aloft my Weapon, come on then my brave, my valiant Horses, now show your Swiftness, your Vigour, and your Courage; make known your Fire by the Rapidity of your Course; let your Steps be wing'd with Lightning, let the Earth resound with the Thunder of your Hoofs.
What do you threaten to tear me in Pieces with your Horses, and to drive your Car over my Body?
Again, I feel the inspiring God, he bids me spring upon that Man and murder him. Ha! who is the presumptuous Wretch that dares to hold my Horses and stop my Car, whoever he be? he opposes the Execution of your Sentence, great God, he cancels the Decree of
Apollo.
Alas! this is indeed a dreadful Disease, immortal Gods! deign to have Pity on us, how has this horrible Accident happened to him? my Son-in-law was once wise and discreet, and all of a sudden his Brain is distemper'd, this Misfortune requires a speedy Remedy, I must make Haste and get a Physician immediately.
SCENE III.
MENAECHMUS SOSICLES.
So! I am at last delivered from these pleasant People, who are determined to believe me mad, and yet I am very certain that I am perfectly well; but now that I am safe, now that I am delivered from my Persecutors, what hinders me from making Haste to my Ship? Gentlemen grant me one Favour if you please, if the old Man should return, I intreat ye all, (and there is really a good Number of you,) I intreat ye all, I say, not to tell him which Way I have taken.
SCENE IV.
I have sat so long that my Back aches with anxiously waiting till the Doctor return'd from visiting his Patients. At last having finish'd his sick Rounds the hateful Fellow comes home. He must be a Man of eminent Knowledge, of an almost supernatural Skill in his Profession; he recounts as two of his greatest Exploits the having set the Thigh of
Esculapius,
and the Arm of
Apollo
; two admirable Cures it must be confessed; without the Assistance of this wonderful Operator, the God of Medicine himself wou'd have had Occasion for Crutches, and the glorious
Apollo
for an Arm of Silver. I really know not at present whether this Man ought to be call'd a Physician or a Mechanic; for if he has cured two Divinities, there cannot be a more glorious Testimony of his Skill, or a greater Honour for his Profession; but if he has only refitted two broken Statues, the Exploit is not very extraordinary. Here he comes, a most grave and comely Personage! how majestically slow he walks, he is indeed a very admirable Man!
SCENE V.
Physician, Old Man.
You were speaking to me about the Sickness of your Son-in-law, explain it to me now with more Clearness? let me know all the Symptoms? what is the Disease that he is afflicted with? is he tormented by Phantoms, Spectres, or Hobgoblins? has he the Distemper of the Goddess
Ceres
upon him? conceal nothing; is he lethargick, hydropical, or consumptive? 'tis necessary that the Physician shou'd be told every Thing.
'Tis just the contrary, Mr. Doctor; for I desired you to come hither in order to be informed by you what Distemper my Son-in-law is afflicted with, and also with a Hope of having him restored to Health by your Assistance.
Nothing is less difficult, believe me, good Man, your Labour will not be in vain, I promise you upon the Faith of a Physician, that your Son-in-law shall be cured from this Day.
I wou'd have him treated with all imaginable Care, and nothing spared which may contribute towards the Re-establishment of his Health.
Do not you trouble yourself, I will labour upon the Patient with an indefatigable Application, I will fatigue myself so much with my Endeavours to restore him, that I will sigh six hundred Times a Day through Weariness.
Hold, Sir, there is your Patient coming towards us.
Softly! let us observe him, let us see a little what he will do.
SCENE VI.
MENAECHMUS of
Epidamnum,
the old Man his Father-in-law, and the Physician.
By
Pollux!
I certainly rose to Day under a malignant Influence, a miserable Day has it been to me! this rascally Parasite has discovered all my Secrets, this Rogue, this Monster of Ingratitude, has in a Moment plunged me into Infamy and Fear, him who was my
Ulysses,
to whom I entrusted all my Designs, the Guide and Executioner of all my Schemes, he has betrayed his Agamemnon, and by his Perfidy drawn me out of a most sweet and happy Situation. If I live I will take away his Life, but I talk like a Fool; is it not from my Benevolence that he holds his Life? is he not supported by my Wealth? wou'd he not have perish'd a hundred Times by Hunger but for me? 'tis thus then that I will take away his Life, I will deprive him of my Assistance. As for this Whore, she maintains very well the Honour of her Character, she does nothing unworthy her honest Profession, I intreated her to return me the Robe, that I might pacify my Wife with it, mark her extream Cunning, and the Lye she invented immediately to keep it. She swears to me, that she gave it me some Hours ago.—Is it possible to carry Impudence farther than this? Alas! it must be confest I am extremely miserable.
Do you hear what he says?
He deplores his Unhappiness.
Be so good to accost him.
Mr.
Menaechmus,
your Servant, pray why do you stretch yourself thus? you are not sensible of the Hurt it does you: This Extension of your Arms encreases the Violence of your Distemper.
What does this Quack mean? go hang thyself with thy Doctorial Visions.
Do you feel any Thing?
Why shou'd I not feel? I have all my five Senses.
It will cost more than an Acre of Helebore to cure this Head, but let's try him again. Well, Sir, what good News can you tell us?
What wou'd you have me to tell you?
Answer precisely to the Question I ask you; is the Wine you commonly drink White or Red?
May the Furies carry thee away with thy impertinent Curiosity.
By
Hercules!
his Madness begins to seize him, he grows wild.
Why do you not ask me whether the Bread I generally eat is Purple, Red, or Yellow, or enquire if the Birds which are served up to my Table, have Scales, or the Fish Wings?
Good Gods! what Extravagancies he utters, do you not mark him, Doctor? haste then, and make him swallow some salutary Potion before his Distemper increases, and he becomes quite furious.
Have Patience, be silent, I want to interrogate him a little longer.
Aye, aye, according to the laudable Customs of your Art, you murder the poor Patients with the Gravity of your nonsensical Speeches.
Tell me, do not you feel your Eyes grow hard?
Do you take me for a Grasshopper?
Don't you perceive that your Bowels make a great Noise?
Wh
Bell
is full my Bowels are very peacea
d sleep profoundly, but when I
they growl horribly.
This Answer is wide from the Purpose, it denotes a distemper'd Brain. When you are in B
d do you sleep easily? are not your Slumbers unquiet and interrupted? do you generally sleep till Day?
I always sleep well but when my Mind is disturb'd by the Fear of some importunate Creditor. But may
Jupiter
and all the Gods confound thee, thou eternal Questioner! when wilt thou have done?
Oh, oh, our Man begins to grow furious, these Words alone ought to be sufficient to make you be on your Guard.
You are mistaken, he is calmer at present. and less abusive than he has been since his Senses were first disordered; it is not long since he called his Wife an enraged Bitch.
By your Leave, pray, when did I use such a Word?
I say you are mad, my Friend, quite mad, and fit for Chains.
How! mad! am I mad?
Yes, you! have you not threatened to crush me under the Wheels of your Chariot? had I not heard your Extravagancies with my own Ears, I would not thus freely have call'd you mad.
And with the same Certainty I know that you have stolen the sacred Crown of
Jupiter,
and that for this horrible Sacrilege you was thrown into Prison, from whence you are now taken out to be hang'd. I know also that you have stabb'd your Father, and sold your Mother for a Slave. Well, Father-in-law, do I speak now like a Man in my Senses? is it not fit to answer Calumny with Calumny, and false Imputations with others as false, and more attrocious.
Doctor I conjure you lose no Time; what you are to do, do quickly. See you not how he is transported?
The best Thing you can do is to send the Patient to my House.
Is this your Opinion?
Certainly, he will then be wholly under my Care, and I may treat his Distemper my own Way.
Do what you think most proper to be done.
Come, Mr.
Menaechmus,
come along with me, I will regale you well! for these twenty Days to come, you shall drink nothing but Helebore, is not that fine?
Rascal! I will cut thy Throat.
Come, venerable Father, let us go and get some People to carry him to my House.
How many are necessary?
His Distemper is so violent at present that no fewer than four lusty strong Fellows will be necessary to carry him away.
They shall be here in a Moment; mean Time, good Mr.
Esculapius,
watch your Patient carefully, don't let him escape.
I watch him! excuse me, Sir, I have very urgent Business, nay, you know I am obliged to go home and give the necessary Orders for his Reception. Go, go, send the Slaves hither, and let them bring him to my House immediately.
He shall be there as soon as you.
I'll be gone then.
Adieu.
SCENE VII.
MENAECHMUS of
Epidamnum
alone.
So they are gone, my Father-in-law and the Physician, and I am at last delivered from their Hands. Great
Jupiter!
what Adventure is to follow those which have happened to me this Day? They declare publickly here that I am mad; it passes for certain, so there is the Reputation and Honour of my poor Brain dead and buried. But how can this be, for I am very sure that since my first Entrance into Life I have never been seiz'd with any Symptoms of this Distemper. Is this black Suspicion owing to Malice or Mistake? 'Tis strange! 'tis unaccountable! surely I am not mad. I neither insult, quarrel with, or strike any Persons that come in my way; my Mind is calm, my Thoughts are reasonable; my Behaviour is not different from other People; when I speak to them they reply, when they speak to me I answer them again, and with as much Judgment as ever I did before. 'Tis not I then that am mad, but those who reproach me with Madness have their own Brains cracked; People that labour under such Disorders, suspect others to be what they are themselves.
But this is not all that afflicts me, for how shall I dispose of myself at present? to which Side shall I turn? I dare not attempt to get into my own House, for my Lamb of a Wife will refuse me Entrance, and from my Mistress nothing is to be expected; her Door is shut against me, no one will venture to introduce me, we are upon such bad Terms with each other.—I have no other Resource but to wait here for the Approach of Night, my Wife perhaps may be then seiz'd with Compassion, and will permit me to take Part of her Bed.
SCENE VIII.
The Merit of a good Slave consists in taking great Care of his Master's Substance, in laying it out wisely, in being attentive to his Interests; in short, a good Slave shou'd in his Master's Absence manage his Money in the same Manner as if he was present, or rather with more Circumspection.
A wise Domestic will always consider his Shoulders more than his Mouth, he will think it more necessary to provide for the Ease of his Legs than for the filling his Belly, and have the Reward he expects from his Master continually before his Eyes. But what is the Reward that a wicked idle Slave has Reason to hope for? in what Coin is he paid? why, with heavy Stripes, Fetters, grinding in Mills, cruel Fatigues, ravenous Hunger, and perishing Cold; these are the natural Consequences of Disobedience and Guilt.
As for me, I am a declared Enemy to all these Things; there is not one of them convenient, not one that suits my Taste, or does not put me into a horrible Fear; 'tis for this Reason that I am firmly resolved to be good for something, and always prefer good Service to bad. I am not moved by harsh Language, or Reproaches, however undeserved; for after all they are only Words, and Words strike nothing but the Air, but as for Blows, your humble Servant; I am not for them, I hate them mortally, the Impression they make, is a little too strong.
I must confess, also, that I eat much more willingly what the Labours of others supply me with, than my own; Bread made with Flower of my Grinding wou'd taste very bitter, but it goes down very pleasantly, when done by the Fatigue of my Comrades. Therefore I am always ready to obey my Master's Commands, I execute his Orders punctually, I serve him with Diligence and Alacrity, and I find myself in a very happy Situation, with these my servile Maxims.
Those Slaves, who because of their good Behaviour have nothing to fear, and yet are naturally timid, those Slaves, I say, are generally most useful to their Masters; on the contrary, those who are bold, determined, and arrogant, are the greatest Tremblers in the World, when by their Faults they have drawn the Indignation of their Masters upon them.
Thanks to the Gods, I have no Reason to be afraid, my Master will in a little Time reward me for my faithful Service; in the mean Time this is my governing Principle, to do always what is most for the Ease of my Back.
After having secured my Master's Servants and Baggage in the Inn, as he commanded me, I came back to wait his Orders, 'tis fit I knock at the Door, that he might be informed that I am here. Oh! that I may be so happy as to see him come out safe and sound from this damn'd House; but I fear I am come too late, and that it will be after Death the Physician.
SCENE IX.
The Old Man, MENAECHMUS of
Epidamnum,
Slaves, MESSENION.
To the Slaves.
I conjure you by the Gods! and by Men! not to neglect any of my Orders, carry him immediately to the Physician's House; I have commanded you to do it, and I now repeat my Command; obey then as you ought, unless your Backs and your Thighs are of little Consideration to you: Do not be frighted from your Duty by his Menaces—Well, why do you stand still? why fix yourselves like Statues in one Posture? is it thus you obey my Orders? you ought already to have laid him across your Shoulders, make Haste, I will go before you, to the Physician's.
I am undone! what can this mean? Rascals! why do you fall upon me? what do you want? why do you surround me thus, voracious Birds of Prey? whither do you want to convey me? — Ah! I am ruin'd! Help, dear Fellow-Citizens of
Epidamnum.
— I implore your Relief, hasten to my Assistance, and deliver me from these Blood-hounds?
Immortal Gods, what do I see! Oh, Misery! my Master, my good Master, treated with the vilest Indignity; by all the Furies! they want to carry him away by Force.
Ah! what brave Man will have Courage enough to embrace my Interests, and undertake my Defence.
I will, my dear Master; I will defend you while I have one Drop of Blood remaining. Oh! wicked Attempt. Oh! execrable Villany. Ye Citizens of
Epidamnum,
will ye suffer an honest free Stranger to be treated like a Slave and a Criminal in the midst of your Streets? and in a City that is at Peace with all the World? Can any Thing dishonour you more? Be gone ye Ministers of Perfidy and Violence, and release the Innocent, whom you oppress.
Generous Unknown! whoever you are, I earnestly implore your Assistance, do not let me suffer so cruel, and so public an Affront.
Yes, Sir, I will assist you, my Arm and my Life are at your Service, I will not suffer you to be injur'd; if one of us must perish, it is just that that I should be the Person. Courage then, Master, strike out I beseech you the Eye of this Rogue, that holds you by the Neck; as for me I will deal my Blows plentifully amongst these other Gentlemen here. By
Hercules!
Villains, you shall repent your having undertaken this Task to Day. Once more, Rascals, will you leave my Master at Liberty?
By
Pluto!
I have got this Rogue's Eye in my Hand.
Good! very good! he has something to remember you by. Off, off, ye Robbers, Murderers, Villains.
Mercy! for the Love of the great
Hercules,
Mercy.
Leave this Gentleman then.
Strike! strike! have no Compassion on them, who had the Insolence to seize me.
If you wou'd have me spare you, fly, leave this Place, be gone this Instant, and may the Gods punish ye, Villains, as ye deserve. How! what makes you lag behind your Fellows? there, take that for being the hindmost, by
Hercules!
a good Blow, thy Face is in admirable Order, and now I am satisfied, my Work is done. Faith, Sir, I came in good Time, you began to want my Assistance.
May the Gods be favourable to thee always, generous Stranger! for 'tis certain, without thy Assistance, this Day had been fatal to me, I shou'd not have lived till Sunset.
Then, Sir, I may hope you will reward my Service with that good which exceeds every other Liberty.
Must I make thee free, Friend?
Yes, certainly you, my Master? since you acknowledge I have saved your Life.
Is it me you call Master? you are deceived, and take me for some other Person.
How can I be deceived? how can I take you for another Person? I do not understand you Sir.
I swear by the Father of the Gods I am not your Master.
Good Sir, do not talk in this Manner.
I tell you I am not your Master, I never had a Slave capable of doing what you have done for me.
If you will not acknowledge me for your Slave, give me Liberty to go where I please.
By
Hercules!
I will enfranchise thee as far as it is in my Power; be free, my Friend, and go where thou wilt.
Do you command me to do so, Sir?
Yes, by
Hercules!
I command thee by all the Authority I have over thee.
Oh! my good, my worthy Master, I will serve you still, faithfully, in the Character of your new freed Man.
Companion of MESSENION.
I congratulate you,
Messenion,
upon the Liberty you have acquir'd.
By
Hercules,
my Friend, I do not in the least doubt but that your Congratulation is sincere. But, Sir, I must intreat you will grant me one Favour, and that is, that you will continue to command me any Thing for your Service, with the same Authority, as when I was your Slave, I will stay with you, and when you return home, I will follow you.
No, that must not be.
I will go immediately to the Inn, and bring the Baggage and Money; your Purse is seal'd and put into your Portmantua, I will deliver it into your Hands.
Do so, thou art a brave Fellow.
I will give you back the Purse in the same Condition as when you confided it to my Care. Have a little Patience, and wait for me here.
What am I to think of all this? what wonderful Accidents have happened to me this Day! Some will not acknowledge me, but impudently maintain that I am what I am not, and from thence take Occasion to shut me out of my House; others pretend, notwithstanding all my Assurances to the contrary, that I am their Master. The Man who has just left me, wou'd engage himself to all the Furies in Hell, that he is my Slave, and therefore I must give him Freedom; the Madman has promised me a Purse full of Money, if he keeps his Word I shall very chearfully take Leave of him, I will throw the Reins over his Neck, and suffer him to go where he pleases; for to be plain, I shall be afraid that when he is restor'd to his Senses he will remember the Money he has given me, and demand it back again, perhaps with Interest too: My Father-in-law and the Physician treat me like a Madman; from whence can it proceed? I am wrapt in Wonder at it. —Let me consider; am I awake, or is all this a Vision?—No, 'tis but too certain; what then shall I do? after so many Storms I believe I cannot do better than to go to this Courtezan, and by Prayers and Flatteries prevail upon her to give me back the Robe; if I should have the Good-luck to succeed with this Woman, who like all the rest of her Trade is true to her own Interest, I will carry it home immediately, and do not doubt but with such a Passport I shall gain Admittance, and restore Peace again to my Family.
SCENE X.
MENAECHMUS SOSICLES, MESSENION.
Hast thou the Impudence to persist in saying thou hast seen and spoke to me a few Minutes ago? Was there ever a more infamous Falshood? I indeed commanded thee to come and fetch me, or at least to meet me here, neither of which thou didst; thou wert taken up, I suppose, with some more agreeable Business.
Is it possible, Sir, that you can speak so contrary to your own Knowledge? certainly you mean to divert yourself, for you cannot have forget the Service I did you just now. Did I not deliver you from four great Mastiffs, who were carrying you away by Force? You stormed, you cried aloud for Succour, and called both Gods and Men to witness the horrible Violence that you suffered; in vain you struggled to free yourself from their Arms, I was destin'd to be your Deliverer; finding you in this Danger I ran, I flew to your Assistance, I fell furiously upon your Ravishers, and by a Shower of dreadful Blows I forced them to fly; thus I again made you Master of yourself, and restored you to Liberty. This Action, which shew'd my ardent Zeal for your Safety, moved your Heart; you thought, and with Reason, that you cou'd not reward so important a Service with less than Liberty, therefore you made me free.
How! have I made you free? have I permitted you to go where you please?
There is nothing more certain.
And I protest that it has been long my Resolution, rather to sell myself for a Slave, than give you Freedom. How will you reconcile these Contradictions?
SCENE XI.
MENAECHMUS of
Epidamnum,
MENAECHMUS SOSICLES, MESSENION.
speaking, as he comes out of EROTIA's House.
By
Hercules!
though you shou'd swear by all that is most dear to you, that I have carried away the Robe, and the Bracelet, it would nevertheless be false, you are all villainous Lyars.
Oh! Heaven, oh! ye immortal Gods! what do I behold?
What is it you see?
Your living Mirror, Sir.
What dost thou mean by that?
Your other Self, never was there so perfect a Resemblance.
By
Pollux!
if the Idea I have of my own Figure be true, this Man is not different from myself.
Well met again, young Man, who ever thou art, I shall look upon thee as my Deliverer.
I conjure you, Sir, by the great
Hercules!
tell me your Name.
My Name is
Menaechmus.
By the Temple of
Pollux!
that is my Name also.
I am of
Syracuse
in
Sicily.
There was I also born, and in that City am I settled.
What is it you say?
Nothing but Truth.
That I can witness, for I ought to know this Gentleman well, since I am one of his Slaves. Aye, this is my Master, but in good Faith, I have taken you for him, and firmly believed I belonged to you. This Mistake has been the Cause of my giving my Master Offence, and letting some imprudent and disrespectful Words escape me, for which I most humbly ask your Pardon, Master.
To
Menaechmus
of
Epidamnum.
Sure thou art mad! hast thou forgot that this Day you landed with me at
Epidamnum?
Very true, Sir, — Yes, without doubt 'tis you that are my Master? and as for you, young Gentleman, with the deceitful Appearance, you must seek another Slave. I must bid you adieu, my new Master, for I insist upon it that this is the true
Menaechmus.
And I insist upon it, that 'tis I who am
Menaechmus.
What Farce are we playing here? you are
Menaechmus,
you say?
Yes, I say I am
Menaechmus,
the Son of
Moschus,
a Citizen of
Syracuse.
How! are you the Son of my Father?
Not that I know of, young Man, I am the Son of my own Father, and in naming him I had no Design of claiming yours.
Immortal Gods! accomplish, I beseech you, my Hope, although it be almost against Hope itself, yet oh! may it please you to confirm my Conjecture. These two, if I am not deceived, are the twin Brothers of
Syracuse.
I must consult with my Master, Mr.
Menaechmus.
What woudst thou?
I speak but to one at a Time; answer me which of you two have wandered a long Time with me on the Sea?
Not I.
No certainly, for it was me.
Then 'tis with you I wou'd speak; be so good to come aside with me.
Well, what hast thou to say to me now?
One of these two Things must certainly be true; either this Man is an Impostor, and a Cheat, or he is your twin Brother; for my Part I must confess, the more I examine him the more I am lost in Astonishment, I never in my whole Life beheld a Man who so perfectly resembled another as he does you; believe me, Sir, for of this I am a better Judge than you, one Drop of Water is not more like another; besides, he says he is of the same City and Country as you are; therefore, if you think proper, we will interrogate him on some Facts.
By
Hercules!
thy Advice is good, and I am much obliged to thee; go on I conjure thee in the Name of the Gods! to clear up this Affair, and if thou provest him to be my Brother, I will reward thee with Liberty.
I am in great Hopes of being able to give you this Satisfaction, my Heart whispers Success to me.
I will patiently wait the Event.
Well, Sir, you who would make us believe you to be
Menaechmus,
will you maintain it?
Yes, and I will say nothing but what is true.
'Tis certain that my Master's Name is
Menaechmus;
you say you are of
Syracuse,
in
Sicily,
in that City was he born;
Moschus
you tell us was your Father, so was he my Master's; are you willing to give me your Assistance in clearing up this Matter, to the Satisfaction of you both?
Well dost thou deserve that I should comply with all thy Demands, and although I am free, yet will I blindly obey thee as if thou hadst bought me for thy Slave.
I do not doubt but that you will be found to be the Twin Brothers of
Syracuse,
born in one Day, of the same Father and Mother.
Your Words surprize me! you fill me with Astonishment and Joy. May the Gods grant that you may be able to prove this clearly to me.
Well then, stand by each other, and both of you answer precisely to the Questions I shall ask you.
Ask what you please, I promise to answer you truly.
Are you call'd
Menaechmus?
'Tis my true and only Name.
And yours also, Sir?
Nothing is more certain.
You declare yourself the Son of
Moschus,
who when alive was a good and honest Citizen of
Syracuse?
I repeat that Declaration.
The same
Menaechmus
was my Father also.
You are then a
Syracusan?
Certainly.
And you also, my Master?
Yes, thou knowest it.
Hitherto all goes Right, your Answers agree perfectly well, but for a greater Confirmation I beseech you, Sir, the Citizen of
Epidamnum,
that you will be pleased to tell us what you remember at the greatest Distance of Time.
I remember that my Father took me with him to
Tarentum,
whither he went to trade; at our Arrival we stood to behold some Games that were celebrating, and I lost my Father in the Croud, I wandered about, and at last fell into the Hands of a rich Citizen of this Place, who stole me away, and brought me here to
Epidamnum.
Supreme, and all powerful
Jupiter
bless me! and crown thy Work.
Have Patience, Master, do not interrupt me. How old were you when your Father took you with him to
Tarentum?
Seven Years; I remember I was then geting new Teeth. After this Adventure happened to me I never more saw my Father.
How many Brothers were of you in the Family?
We were but two as I remember.
Which of you was the eldest?
I think we were of the same Age.
How can that be?
'Tis not difficult to guess, we were Twins.
The Gods at last are favourable!
I assure you, Sir, if you interrupt me again I will not ask him any more Questions, I will be silent.
I had much rather be silent myself.
There yet remains one Difficulty, which I am afraid will not be easy to get over. How happens it that your Brother and you have the same Name?
I don't know that we have, as for myself I am called
Menaechmus,
and I was always called so, but my Brother had another Name, which if I remember right was
Sosicles.
Ah! 'tis too much; one half of these Proofs had been sufficient to convince me, I cannot any longer contain my fraternal Tenderness, I must embrace him, my dear Brother! my Twin Brother! I, I am
Sosicles.
But why are you call'd
Menaechmus?
When the Family was inform'd that our Father was dead, and that you was lost; our Grandfather, who always loved you more than me, supprest my Name, and gave me yours.
I believe all you tell me, one little Scruple remains, which I beg you to remove.
Most w
llingly; speak!
What was our Mother's Name?
Theusimarcha.
The same! come to my Arms, my dear Brother, whom, for so many Years, I have not seen, and whom I never thought to have seen again! how happy has this unexpected Meeting made me?
And oh! how has it blest me! me, my dear Brother, who have sought thee so long a Time with incredible Labour and Fatigues, but now they are all overpay'd.
Now, Master, the Behaviour of the Courtezan is explained; she called you by your Name, and invited you to Dinner, believing you to be your Brother.
By the Temple of
Pollux!
I had ordered her to prepare a Repast, and intended to dine with her, nay, I gave her a Robe, which I stole to Day from my Wife.
Is not this the Robe you speak of, Brother?
By what Chance did it come into your Possession?
The Woman who lives in that House, invited me to dine with her; she assured me that I had given her this Habit; I was very well entertained, eat and drank plentifully, and to compleat my good Fortune, brought the Robe away with me.
By the Temple of
Pollux!
I am rejoiced that you fared so well upon my Account; this Creature, when she invited you in, certainly mistook you for me.
Well, the Affair is now finish'd, I have fulfilled my Engagement, 'tis now your Turn, Sir, to perform your Promise, by giving me my Liberty.
His Demand is too just, and reasonable, to be refused, come Brother, make him free for my sake.
You are in the right, my Brother, to believe that your Mediation must be dear to me. Well,
Messenion,
to comply with my Promise, and more especially to gratif my other Self, I make you free from this Instant.
I sincerely congratulate thee,
Messenion,
on thy Liberty.
May the Gift be made me under happier Auspices than it was before, that my Liberty may be as durable as my Life!
Since we have thus happily met, contrary to all Expectation, I intreat you, Brother, to quit
Epidamnum,
and let us return together to our dear Country.
I will do whatever you please from henceforward. I hope our Inclinations will be as like as our Persons. All my Possessions here shall be sold; in the mean Time let me make you known to my Eriends, and find out, if possible, some Means of distinguishing us from each other; come walk into my House.
With all my Heart, I'll follow you every where.
Stay, Gentlemen, I have a Favour to beg of you, be so kind as to prefer the Office of public Crier on this Occasion upon me.
'Tis granted.
If you please then I will begin from this Time to publish the Sale, on what Day shall I fix it?
The seventh.
On the seventh Day from this in the Morning will be sold, all the Goods moveable and immoveable, of Mr.
Menaechmus,
his Estates, Slaves, and Houshold Furniture, for ready Money only, and if a Purchaser can be found for her, he will also fell his Wife. The whole will certainly amount to no less than two Hundred Thousand Crowns. And now farewel, Spectators, favour us with your Applause.
End of the Fifth and last Act.
OBSERVATIONS
on the Use
Shakespear
has made of the
Menaechmus
of
Plautus,
in his
Comedy of Errors.
SHAKESPEAR
's
Comedy of Errors
has been generally allowed to be founded on the
Menaechmi
of
Plautus.
Mr.
Langbain,
in his Account of the Dramatic Poets, says that if it be not a just Translation of it, it is at least a Paraphrase, and in his Opinion far beyond a Translation, called
Manaechmus,
Printed at
London,
1593.
From this Translation of
Plautus
's
Menaechmi, Shakespear
certainly borrowed his
Comedy of Errors;
but not being able to procure a Copy of it, and being wholly unacquainted with the
Latin
Tongue, I have turned Monsieur
Gueudiville
's
French
Translation of the
Menaechmi
into
English,
which although, as I am informed, it be not very literal as to the Dialogue, yet the Plot, the Incidents, and Characters, being exactly the same with the
Latin
Poet's, it will serve to shew how much of the Plot
Shakespear
has borrowed in his
Comedy of Errors.
That we may be the better able to trace him in his Imitations, it will be necessary to examine the
Comedy of Errors
Scene by Scene, and take the Story a little higher than the Commencement of the Action of the Play.
The Cities of
Syracuse
and
Ephesus
being at War with each other, a Law was made in both, by which it was provided, that if any
Ephesian
Merchant was seen to traffic in
Syracuse,
or any
Syracusan
Merchant in
Ephesus,
his Goods should be confiscated, and himself condemned to Death.
An old Merchant of
Syracuse,
named
Aegeon,
landing at
Ephesus,
is apprehended upon this Law.
Here the Action of the Play begins, as
Aegeon
is leading to Prison, the Duke of
Ephesus
meeting him, demands the Cause of his having left his native Country, and coming to
Ephesus; Aegeon
thereupon gives a long Account of himself and his Family, which, in order to understand well the following Incidents, I will transcribe.
In
Syracusa
was I born, and wed
Unto a Woman, happy but for me,
And by me too, had not our Hap been bad:
With her I liv'd in Joy, our Wealth increas'd,
By prosperous Voyages I often made
To
Epidamnum,
'till my Factor's Death;
And he great Store of Goods at random leaving,
Drew me from kind Embracements of my Spouse;
From whom my Absence was not six Months old,
Before herself (almost at fainting under
The pleasing Punishment that Women bear)
Had made Provision for her following me,
And soon and safe arrived where I was.
There she had not been long but she became,
A joyful Mother of two goodly Sons;
And, which was strange, the one so like the other,
As could not be distinguish'd but by Names.
That very Hour, and in the self-same Inn,
A poor mean Woman was deliver'd
Of such a Burthen, Male-Twins both alike:
Those (for their Parents were exceeding poor)
I bought, and brought up to attend my Sons.
My Wife, not meanly proud of two such Boys,
Made daily Motions for our home Return:
Unwilling I agreed, alas! too soon!
We came aboard.
A League from
Epidamnum
had we sail'd,
Before the always-Wind-obeying Deep,
Gave any tragic Instance of our Harm;
But longer did we not retain much Hope:
For what obscured Light the Heavens did grant,
Did but convey unto our fearful Minds,
A doubtful Warrant of immediate Death;
Which though myself would gladly have embrac'd,
Yet the incessant Weeping of my Wife,
Weeping before for what she saw must come,
And piteous Plainings of the pretty Babes
That mourn'd for Fashion, ignorant what to fear,
Forc'd me to seek Delays for them and me:
And this it was (for other Means were none)
The Sailors sought for Safety by our Boat,
And left the Ship then sinking-ripe to us;
My Wife, more careful for the elder born,
Had fasten'd him unto a small spare Mast,
Such as Sea-faring Men provide for Storms;
To him one of the other Twins was bound,
Whilst I had been like heedful of the other.
The Children thus dispos'd, my Wife and I
Fixing our Eyes on whom our Care was fixt,
Fasten'd ourselves at the End of either Mast,
And floating streight, obedient to the Stream,
Were carry'd towards
Corinth,
as we thought.
At length the Sun gazing upon the Earth,
Disperst those Vapours that offended us;
And by the Benefit of his wish'd Light,
The Seas wax'd calm, and we discover'd
Two Ships from far making amain to us;
Of
Corinth
that, of
Epidauris
this;
But ere they came—Oh! let me say no more;
Gather the Sequel by what went before.
Nay, forward, old Man, do not break off so,
For we may pity, tho' not pardon thee.
Oh! had the Gods done so, I had not now
Worthily term'd them merciless to us;
For ere the Ships could meet by twice five Leagues,
We were encounter'd by a mighty Rock;
Which being violently borne upon,
Our helpless Ship was splitted in the midst:
So that in this unjust Divorce of us,
Fortune had left to both of us alike
What to delight in, what to sorrow for.
Her Part, poor Soul! seeming as burden'd
With lesser Weight, but not with lesser Woe,
Was carry'd with more Speed before the Wind,
And in our Sight they three were taken up
By Fishermen of
Corinth,
as we thought.
At length the other Ship had seiz'd on us,
And knowing whom it was their Hap to save,
Gave helpful Welcome to their shipwreck'd Guests,
And would have rest the Fishers of their Prey,
Had not their Bark been very slow of Sail;
And therefore homeward did they bend their Course.
Thus have you heard me sever'd from my Bliss.
Thus by Misfortunes was my Life prolong'd,
To tell sad Stories of my own Mishaps.
And for the Sakes of them thou sorrow'st for,
Do me the Favour to dilate at full
What hath befall'n of them and thee till now.
My youngest Boy, and yet my eldest Care,
At eighteen Years became inquisitive
After his Brother, and importun'd me
That his Attendant, (for his Case was like,
Rest of his Brother, but retain'd his Name,)
Might bear him Company in quest of him:
Whom whilst I labour'd for a Love to see,
I hazarded the Loss of whom I lov'd.
Five Summers have I spent in farthest
Greece,
Roaming clean through the Bounds of
Asia,
And coasting homeward, came to
Ephesus:
Hapless to find, yet loth to leave unsought,
Or that, or any Place that harbours Men.
But here must end the Story of my Life;
And happy were I in my timely Death,
Could all my Travels warrant me they live.
Here ends the first Scene; the Appearance of
Aegeon
is of no other Use than to tell the Spectators several Circumstances antecedent to the Action of the Play, which it is necessary they should be acquainted with; this
Plautus
does in his Prologue.
The Story, though borrowed from
Plautus,
is yet very different; the Circumstance of two Brothers being so extremely like each other, that it was impossible to distinguish them, is highly improbable in the
Latin
Poet.
Shakespear
however doubles the Miracle, and presents us with two Pair of Twins instead of one, with the same wonderful Resemblance.
Plautus
accounts very naturally for the Brothers having both the same Name; the Grandfather upon the Loss of the eldest, whom he loved best, to preserve the Remembrance of him, gives his Name to the youngest.
Shakespear,
without assigning any Reason for it, makes the Twin Sons of
Aegeon
be both called
Anthipholis,
and the Twin Brothers, their Slaves, both
Dromio.
The Separation of the Husband and Wife, and their Children, from whence all the diverting Mistakes in the
Comedy of Errors
arise, is brought about without the least Regard to Probability.
Aegeon
sails from
Syracuse
to
Epidamnum,
to settle his Affairs there, which were left in Confusion by the Death of his Factor, and his Wife, though near the Time of her Lying-in, follows him, for no Reason indeed but to be delivered at an Inn, where a poor Woman, who like her, having born two Male Twins, she may buy them for Slaves to her own Sons; and that returning to
Syracuse
they may be shipwrecked, and separated from each other.
When the Storm arises the Merchant and his Wife, who, as it shou'd seem, have a View to the diverting Perplexities which are to follow, fasten one
Antipholis,
and one
Dromio
together, so when the Ship splits they are very conveniently separated. Had they, like other fond Parents, been more sollicitous for the Preservation of their own Offspring than their little Slaves, and used their joint Endeavours for that Purpose only, the Father and Mother, and their Twin Sons, might have been all taken up together by the
Corinthian
Vessel, but thus equally dividing their Affection between their Children and their Slaves, and that excellent Contrivance of fastening a Twin of each Sort together, occasioned their falling into different Hands, and gave to each
Antipholis
his
Dromio,
for the future Business of the Play.
The Mother and the elder
Antipholis
being separated, he and his little Slave
Dromio
are carried to
Ephesus,
where in Process of Time he is married to a rich Lady, and settles there: Here the younger
Antipholis
comes to seek for his Brother, and his Father afterwards for him; the old Man is immediately seized, and condemned to die, as has been mentioned, but the Duke respites him for the Space of one Day, in order to try if he can raise the Sum of one Thousand Marks to buy his Life.
In the second Scene
Antipholis
of
Syracuse
makes his Appearance with the Merchant of the City, who informing him of what had happened to the
Syracusan
Merchant, advises him to give out that he came from
Epidamnum.
Antipholis
of
Syracuse
sends his Man,
Dromio,
with a Thousand Marks to lay up safe at his Inn, and being left to himself, declares the Cause of his wandering about the World to be the Hopes of finding his Mother and Brother, whose Loss he deplores. While he is standing in the Street,
Dromio
of
Ephesus
comes up to him, and taking him for his Master, tells him his Dinner is ready, and that his Wife waits for him.
Antipholis,
deceived by the Resemblance, supposes this
Dromio
to be his Slave, reproves him for his ill timed Jests, and asks him where he had left his Money?
Dromio
talks of Sixpence he had given him two or three Days ago.
Antipholis
asks for his Thousand Marks?
Dromio
tells him of his Dinner, his House, his Wife, and presses him to come home.
Antipholis
at last, in a Fury, strikes him,
Dromio
runs off, and
Antipholis,
full of Uneasiness about his Money, returns to his Inn to look after it.
In the second Act the Scene is the House of
Antipholis
of
Ephesus,
his Wife complains to her Sister of her Husband's long Stay, and wonders the Slave she sent for him is not returned.
Dromio
then enters, and humorously repeats what had past between his supposed Master and him, declaring that he believes him to be mad, the Wife frets, and orders him to go back again and fetch him.
The Scene changes again to the Street,
Antipholis
of
Syracuse
enters, and informs the
Audience that his Money is safe, and adds,
"By Computation, and mine Host's Report
"I cou'd not speak with
Dromio
since at first
"I sent him from the Mart."
Yet notwithstanding this Reflexion, the Moment his own Slave,
Dromio
of
Syracuse,
appears, he reproaches him with his having denied receiving his Gold, and with talking to him about his Wife, and a Dinner; and though the poor Fellow assures him that he never spoke such Words to him, and had not seen him since he sent him to the Inn till now, yet
Antipholis
falls into a Rage, and beats him.
A Dialogue of Puns and Quibbles ensues between the Master and Man, which is interrupted by the Entrance of
Adriana,
the Wife of
Antipholis
of
Ephesus,
and her Sister.
Adriana,
this
Antipholis,
and this
Dromio,
band and his Slave, reproaches him with his Neglect of her, and intreats him to come home to dinner.
Antipholis
protests he does not know her, and that he is but just arrived at
Ephesus
; the Sister chides him, and tells him his Wife had sent for him home to Dinner by
Dromio. Dromio
is surprised, and denies it.
Antipholis
▪ who had had that Message delivered to him by the other
Dromio,
storms at the Slave for lying, the Fellow assures him he had never seen her.
Antipholis
asks how she could be acquainted with their Names if he had not seen her before, and informed her of them.
Adriana
; vexed at this Jesting, as she thinks it, intreats
Antipholis
to go home with her, and charges
Dromio
to keep the Gate for that Day, and let no one in to interrupt them.
Antipholis,
though amazed to the last Degree at all this, resolves at last to
Say as they say, and persevere so,
"And in this Mist at all Adventures go.
In the third Act, the Scene is the Street before the House of
Antipholis
of
Ephesus. Antipholis
of
Ephesus,
and his Slave
Dromio,
with a Merchant and a Goldsmith, whom
Antipholis
has invited to dine at his House enter.
Antipholis,
fearing lest his Wife should be angry at his long Stay, desires the Jeweller to excuse it, by saying that he lingered at his House seeing the making of her Bracelet, and chides his Man for having dared to tell him he met him on the Mart, and charged him with a Thousand Marks in Gold, and with having denied his Wife and House. He then knocks at his Door, but is refused Entrance.
Adriana,
who supposes her Husband is dining with her above, is surprised at the Fellow below, who calls her Wife, and insists upon Admittance, and renews her Orders to
Dromio
of
Syracuse
to keep the Door shut.
A smart Dialogue follows between the two
Dromio
's, the one within Doors and the other without; the Husband and his Guests not being suffered to enter, he resolves to go and dine with a Courtezan at the
Porcupine,
and desires the Jeweller to bring the Gold Chain thither to him, that as he says, he may, to spight his Wife, bestow it upon the Courtezan, and accordingly they all go off.
In the next Scene
Antipholis
of
Syracuse
makes Love to
Luciana,
Sister to
Adriana,
she upbraids him with his Falshood to his Wife; he swears he is not married to her Sister, and that he cannot be happy without her.
Luciana
threatens to acquaint his Wife with his Treachery, and leaves him.
His Slave,
Dromio,
then enters, and
Antipholis,
from the strange Accidents that had happened both to himself and his Slave, believing the Place inhabited by Witches, resolves to be gone immediately, and orders
Dromio
to go to the Harbour, and bring him Intelligence if any Bark was to sail that Night, telling him he will walk in the Mart till his Return.
Dromio
goes away to perform his Commission; and the same Moment the Jeweller,
Angelo,
enters with the Chain, and gives it to
Antipholis
of
Syracuse,
whom he takes for the other.
Antipholis
denies that he had ever ordered such a Chain to be made, but the Jeweller insisting that he had, and telling him that he will call in the Evening at his House for the Money:
Antipholis
offers to pay him immediately, lest, as he says, he should never see the Chain or Money more, which the Jeweller refusing, and leaving him,
Antipholis
goes to the Mart to wait for
Dromio,
which ends the third Act.
In the fourth Act a Merchant, to whom the Goldsmith,
Angelo,
owes a Sum of Money, demands instant Payment, or threatens to arrest him by an Officer, whom he has with him.
Angelo
tells him
Antipholis
owed him just as much Money as he was indebted to him for a Gold Chain, which he had delivered to him a Moment ago, and desired him to go with him to his House to receive the Money for it.
Antipholis
of
Ephesus,
and his Slave,
Dromio,
enter, as from the House of the Courtezan, where they had dined.
Antipholis
orders
Dromio
to go and buy a Rope's-end, that he may chastise his Wife, he says, for locking him out of Doors, and that in the mean Time he will go to the Goldsmith; but seeing him, he reproaches him with not bringing the Chain as he had promised.
Angelo
desires him to pay the Money for the Chain to the Merchant there present, to whom he owes as much.
Antipholis
replies, that he has not so much Money about him, but bids the Jeweller take the Gentleman and Chain to his House, and his Wife would pay for it.
Angelo
says he gave him the Chain, and presses him to pay for it.
Antipholis
denies it. The Merchant, weary of this Altercation, arrests the Jeweller, and he arrests
Antipholis.
Dromio
of
Syracuse
then enters, and taking
Antipholis
of
Ephesus
for his Master, tells him that a Ship is ready to sail, and that he had carried their Baggage on board as he commanded him.
Antipholis
calls him a Madman, and asks him for the Rope's-end, which he had sent him to buy:
Dromio
tells him he sent him to the Bay to see if any Bark was ready to sail, not for a Rope.
Antipholis,
in a Passion, threatens him with future Punishment, and then orders him to go to
Adriana,
tell her he was arrested in the Street, and give her the Key of his Desk, and bid her send the Purse of Ducats that was in it to him.
Dromio
remembers that
Adriana
is the Lady with whom they had dined, and accordingly he goes thither, tells her what had happened, and she dispatches him away with the Gold.
The Scene then changes to the Street,
Antipholis
of
Syracuse
enters alone, and a Moment after
Dromio
of
Syracuse
meets him, and gives him the Purse.
Antipholis,
full of Wonder, questions his Man about it, and he talking enigmatically of Arrests and Durance,
Antipholis
thinks him distracted, and prays earnestly to be delivered out of that City.
The Courtezan then enters, and seeing the Gold Chain about
Antipholis
's Neck, whom she takes for
Antipholis
of
Ephesus,
who had dined with her, she requires him to perform his Promise, and give her the Chain instead of the Diamond Ring he had taken from her.
Antipholis
flies from her, and
Dromio
follows.
The Courtezan, from this strange Behaviour, concluding him mad, resolves to go to his House, and tell
Adriana
that he had forcibly taken her Ring from her, hoping to recover it again by this Means. She goes out, and
Antipholis
of
Ephesus
enters with the Jaylor, whom he had desired to accompany him to his own House for Money to release him. As they are going thither
Dromio
of
Ephesus
returns with the Rope he had been sent to buy; his Master asks him for the Money he went to fetch from
Adriana. Dromio
protests he had been sent not for Money, but for a Rope's-end.
Antipholis,
violently enraged, beats him, and whilst he is thus employed, his Wife, whom the Courtezan had alarmed with an Account of his being mad, enters with one
Pinch,
a Conjurer, whom she employed to cure her Husband of his Frenzy.
Antipholis
growing furious at this Treatment, his Wife calls for People to bind him, the Jaylor opposes it, he being his Prisoner, but upon
Adriana
's promising to pay him, he suffers
Antipholis
to be carried off: And as
Adriana
is going out with the rest,
Antipholis
and
Dromio
of
Syracuse
enters with their Swords drawn, and they supposing him to be the
Antipholis
who they had just before sent away bound, crying out for Help, and
Antipholis
and
Dromio
again set out for the Port.
In the fifth Act the Scene is a Street before a Priory, the Jeweller, and Merchant who arrested him appear, and while they are discoursing about
Antipholis
's denying that he received the Chain,
Antipholis
and
Dromio
of
Syracuse
enter.
Angelo,
seeing him with the Chain about his Neck, reproaches him with having denied the Receipt of it, and refusing to pay for it.
Antipholis
protests he neither denied the one or the other; the Merchant hereupon taxes him with Fashood,
Antipholis
draws his Sword, and as the Merchant and he are fighting,
Adriana
enters, cries out that he is mad, and orders some People she had brought with her to bind both him and
Dromio,
and carry them home.
Antipholis
and
Dromio
to avoid this, take Shelter in the Monastery, and immediately the Lady Abbess appears, and demands the Cause of the others thronging thither.
Adriana
tells her that her Husband, who ran into her House, is mad, and that she wants to have him fetched from thence, and carried home. The Abbess, after cunningly questioning her concerning her Behaviour to her Husband, and taking Advantage of her Answers, to prove that she had occasioned his Disorders, declares that she will not let him depart, but undertake the Cure herself.
The Duke that Moment, who is attending the Execution of old
Aegeon,
enters, and
Adriana,
throwing herself at his Feet, demands Justice against the Abbess, whom she accuses of keeping her Husband from her, and recounts all the mad Actions he had been guilty of that Day. The Duke sends to bid the Lady Abbess come out and answer to this Accusation, and in the mean Time a Servant of
Adriana
's enters, and tells her that his Master and
Dromio,
who had been left bound at home, had broken loose, and committed the most terrible Outrages on the Doctor and Servants at home,
Adriana,
who had seen him, as she thought, go into the Priory a few Minutes before, insists upon it that this Report is false, when immediately
Antipholis
and
Dromio
of
Ephesus
enter.
Antipholis
complains to the Duke of his Wife's having locked him out of Doors; she declares that he had dined with her that Day;
Antipholis
goes on to relate all that had happened to him. The Jeweller, the Merchant, the Courtezan, his Wife, and her Sister, having been all deceived by the Resemblance of the two
Antipholis
's, charge the one they are speaking to with all that had passed between them and the other; his occasions a great deal of Confusion and Perplexity. Old
Aegeon,
on seeing
Antipholis
of
Ephesus,
and taking him for his Son
Antipholis,
whom he had parted from seven Years before in the Port of
Syracuse,
tells the Duke that he has now found a Friend who will pay his Fine, and save his Life, and accordingly goes up to him, and naming him, asks him if he does not know his Father.
Antipholis
protests he never saw him before; the old Man reminds him that it is seven Years since they parted at
Syracuse,
and deplores his own Misery in having been so soon forgotten by his own Son.
Antipholis
tells him he never saw his Father in his Life, nor was ever in
Syracuse,
which the Duke confirmed.
In the midst of this new Perplexity the Abbess enters with
Antipholis
and
Dromio
of
Syracuse,
all stand amazed at the exact Likeness of the two Gentlemen, and their Slaves; the Abbess spying
Aegeon,
owns herself to be
Emilia,
his Wife, the Mother of those two
Antipholis
's and informs him that she and the elder
Antipholis,
with the Twin
Dromio,
were taken out of the Sea by Men of
Epidamnum,
but that some Fishermen of
Corinth
took away her Son and
Dromio,
and left her with the
Epidamniens,
that what became of them afterwards she never knew, but that herself arrived to the Fortune of being Abbess of that Priory.
The two
Antipholis
's being now discovered, all the Mistakes which arose from their Resemblance are cleared up,
Aegeon
has his Life given him by the Duke, and they all go into the Priory to discourse more at large upon their several Fortunes.
The Unity of Time is exactly observed in the
Comedy of Errors
; the Incidents of this Play take up the Space of one Day like those of the
Menaechmi;
but the Action which in the last is single, and the most simple that can possibly be, is by
Shakespear
multiplied into several, some of which are far from being either probable or necessary. He has taken all the Characters in the
Menaechmi,
except
Peniculus
the Parasite, and the old Man, Father-in-law to
Menaechmus
of
Epidamnum,
and has added several others; every one of the Incidents he has likewise made Use of, but varied and added Circumstances so freely, that his Play seems to be rather an Imitation, than, as
Langbain
calls it, a Translation or Paraphrase of the
Menaechmi.
The Addition of the two
Dromio
's increases the Business of the Play, but renders the Object still more improbable, which is sufficiently so in the
Menaechmi,
where but half the Degree of Credulity is necessary to make it be relished.
The Mistakes which arise from the Resemblance of the Twins, are conducted with much less Art by
Shakespear
than
Plautus.
In the
Latin
Poet all appears the Effects of Chance, in
Shakespear
of Design; the Persons in his Drama are hardly ever introduced with Propriety; they appear on the Stage, and go off again, evidently for no other Purpose than to give Occasion for the Blunders which ensue.
Thus
Antipholis
of
Syracuse
being resolved to leave
Ephesus,
sends
Dromio
to the Port to see if any Vessel is ready to sail, and bids him come to him to the Mart, where he will wait his Return, accordingly they separate, and it may now be reasonably supposed that
Antipholis
is gone thither, but instead of that we find him a Scene or two afterwards standing in the same Place, where he is met either by the Wife, the Friends, or the Servants of the other
Antipholis;
and after having with great Difficulty disengaged himself from abundance of perplexing Adventures, again he declares he is going to the Mart, and goes off for that Purpose, and again he is found in the same Place to give Rise to new ones.
In this Manner the whole Business of the
Comedy of Errors
is conducted. Those Errors do not as in the Play, which
Shakespear
borrowed from, arise out of a natural and probable Succession of Incidents, but every Thing is put out of its Course to introduce them, and each Error is produced by an Absurdity.
The Story of
Amleth,
translated from the
Danish
History of
Saxo-Grammaticus.
I N the Reign of
Roderic, Horwendil
and
Fengo,
Sons of
Gerwendil,
had the Garrison of
Jutland
committed to them by the King.
Horwendil
was the bravest Pirate on the Sea, and for the Fame of his Exploits envied by
Coller,
King of
Norway,
who sailed in pursuit of his Rival; they met, they fought, and the King was slain.
The Encounter of these Heroes, with the extraordinary Manner of their Meeting each other alone in the Recesses of a Wood, with other Circumstances as improbable as any in Romance, are related in the true Stile of such Writings, by
Saxo-Grammaticus,
in the third Book of his
Danish
History.
After the Death of
Coller,
and his Sister
Selam, Horwendil,
having for three Years given the greatest Proofs of Valour, destines his rich Spoils and choice Prey for
Roderic,
that he might rise in his Friendship. Grown familiar, he obtains his Daughter,
Geruth,
in Marriage, and by her had a Son,
Amleth.
Fengo,
fired with Envy at his Brother's Happiness, is resolved, by Treachery, to ruin him. So that Virtue is not always secure against the Designs of such as are the nearest to, and the most intimate with us. For when an Opportunity offered to commit Fratricide, he with bloody Hand satiates the dire Lust of his Heart, poisoned with Envy; and enjoying the Wife of his murdered Brother, adds foul Incest to his Fratricide. He who submits to one Offence too readily offends again, for one Crime is often the Provocation to another.
He contrived this Villany with such Art and Impudence as to frame an Excuse for his Guilt from counterfeit Benevolence, and give to Fratricide the Colour of Love.
Geruth
was of so mild a Disposition as never to give the least Offence, and yet he said she had incurred the severest Hatred of her Husband, and that he had killed his Brother for her sake, and to save her, thinking it ungenerous so gentle a Lady, and without Gall, should endure the extream Moroseness of that Man.
His Success was equal to his Wishes, for Princes may be deceived, and made to believe Untruths in Courts where Buffoonery is sometimes favoured, and malicious Detraction honoured.
Fengo
hesitated not with murderous Hands to embrace a Brother's Wife, and with equal Villany commits a double Impiety.
Amleth
sees this, but that he might not raise Suspicions in his Uncle by an over prudent Care for his own Safety, puts on the Guise of Folly, and feigns himself distracted, and by this Sort of Device he not only covers his Design, but saves himself. He lazily stretched himself out every Day before his Mother's Hearth, rolling on the Ground, and covering himself with Filth; his Face discoloured and besmeared with Gore and Nastiness, presented the ridiculous Extravagance of a Natural. Whatever he said was like the Ravings of a Madman; whatever Action he performed savoured of extream Ignorance. In short, you would not say he was a Man, but a ridiculous Monster, produced by Fortune in a Frenzy.
Sometimes sitting by the Fire, and raking the Embers with his Hand, he would make wooden Hooks, and harden them in the Fire, and fasten the Ends within one another, that they might hold more firmly together; and when asked what he was about, would say he made sharp Spikes to revenge his Father.
He was not a little laughed at for this Answer. The Vanity of such a ridiculous Performance was treated with Contempt by all, though it afterwards was of Use to him in the Prosecution of his Design.
This Ingenuity gave to those of better Judgment the first Suspicion of his Subtilty. The latent Ability of the Workman for greater Matters was seen by his Skill in lesser ones. Nor could it be thought that his Senses were impaired, who by the Work of his Hands discovered such ingenious Artifice. Besides, he preserved his Heap of Brands that he had burnt at the Points to make them hard with the greatest Care.
There were those, who asserting that he was of uncommon Strength and Quickness of Parts, that he hid his good Sense under the Pretence of Folly, and covered the deep Design of his Mind with crafty Invention, and that his Advice could not be more readily discovered than by introducing to him at any Time in his Recesses a beautiful Woman, who might call forth his Mind to the Allurements of Love.
So prone is Nature to the Passion of Love, that no Artifice can disguise it, and it is too violent to be interrupted by Policy. And therefore, if his Ignorance were counterfeit he would, when Occasion offered, yield Obedience to the Power of Love.
Certain Companions therefore are employed, who should engage him to ride to distant Parts of the Forest, and try him with that Temptation.
Amongst them there happened to be a Youth, who had the same Nurse with
Amleth,
and still preserved in his Heart the Regard that naturally arises in those who are brought up together.
He preferring the Remembrance of former Fellowship to the present Charge, attends upon
Amleth,
with the rest of his appointed Comrades, with a Purpose to inform rather than betray him; which he could not doubt would happen at last if he discovered the least Sign of a sound Mind, and especially if he should openly indulge the Passion of Love.
Which was no Secret to
Amleth
himself; for when commanded to get on Horseback he purposely seats himself so as to turn his Back to the Horse's Head, and face his Tail, to which he began to apply the Bridle, as if he was by that Part to govern the Speed of his Horse. By means of this Contrivance he baffles the Design of his Uncle, and defeats his Arts. It was very ridiculous to see the Horse go forward without the usual Check of the Reins, the Rider directing only the Tail.
Amleth
in the Way met with a Wolf amongst the Trees; his Companions saying they had met with a young Horse, he replied there were few such in
Fengo
's Troops; by this modest and witty Prevarication he rallied the Riches of his Uncle.
When they added that he had made a sensible Answer; he affirmed that he intended that he might so to do, not in any Degree seem to favour a Falshood. For desiring to be thought incapable of lying, he blended Craft and Truth together that he might not seem entirely to deviate from Veracity in whatever he said, nor discover the Richness of his Parts by too much Exactness.
Passing along the Shore, when his Companions found the Rudder of a ship-wrecked Vessel, they said they had found a Knife of prodigious Size: It is therefore fit, says he, to cut up a large Ham, meaning the Sea indeed, to which the Size of the Rudder did well agree. Passing also by the sandy Clifts, and being directed to look upon the Beach, as if it were Corn, he said the same was ground by the foaming Billows of the Sea. This Answer being commended by his Attendant, be assured them it was discreetly said by him.
Being left by them on Purpose, that he might with greater Freedom indulge his Lust, in a private Place he meets a Girl, sent by his Uncle, as if it were by Chance, and would have lain with her, had not the Foster-brother warned him of the Snare by a secret kind of Information.
For he, considering how he might best discharge the Office of an unknown Monitor to his Friend, and prevent the Danger of his wanton Appetite, fixed a Straw he found on the Ground in the Tail of a Buzze, or Bee, flying by, and drove him towards the Place where he knew
Amleth
was. By this Act he conferred the greatest Benefit on the unguarded Youth.
Nor was this Notice more cunningly conveyed than readily understood; for
Amleth
seeing the Fly, and the Straw that he carried in his Tail, and having carefully considered it to be a tacit Admonition to beware of Frauds: Alarmed therefore with the Suspicion of injurious Designs against him, that he might more securely indulge his Wishes, he catching the Girl in his Arms, carries her a considerable Distance into a Marsh, and unfrequented, and after Enjoyment earnestly intreats her not to declare it to any one.
With equal Concern therefore is Silence urged and obtained. For their being brought up together under the same Guardians from their Infancy, produced the greatest Familiarity between her and
Amleth.
Upon his Return home, being asked by every one whether he had gratified his Lust, he owned he had lain with the Girl. Being asked again in what Place he had done it, or what Pillow he had used, answered, The Hoof of an Animal that carries a Burthen,
Oestrus or Oestrum has a double Signification, either a Gad-bee as above, or a Coxcomb, as in this Place.
the Comb of a Cock, and under an arched Roof. He had put all these Particulars, when under Trial, that he might avoid the telling a Lie. This Account excited much Laughter in those about him, although, for the Jest sake, he did not diminish any Thing of the Truth.
The Girl also being questioned (kept her Word with him) and declared he had done nothing. Credit is given her, and the rather, as it appeared that his Guards knew nothing of the matter. Then he who had marked the Buzze for a Token, to shew that the Safety of
Amleth
was owing to his Conceit, said that he was lately the only one who took Care of him, and that the young Man's Answer was to the Purpose.
Nor was the Merit of the Token forgot: he related how he saw the little Carrier of the Straw with hasty Flight passing near him, and that the Straw was stuck in the hinder Parts of his Body. As this Relation excited greater Laughter in the rest, the Friend of
Amleth
was no less delighted with his Prudence.
All of them being defeated, and unable to gain Admittance into the Secrets of this young Man's Stratagems; one of the Friends of
Fengo,
more presumptuous than politic, denied that this unextricable Scheme of Subtilty could be unravelled by common Artifice; for he was too obstinate to be moved by Trials of little Moment: An ordinary manner of Trial would not reach such Variety of Craft. But he had discovered by superior Sagacity a more subtle Manner of trying him, not improper for Execution, but most effectual for the Discovery of the Thing proposed.
The Scheme was this, "That
Fengo
should under the Pretence of Business of great Consequence withdraw himself, and
Amleth
be shut up with his Mother alone in her Apartment, Care being taken to have a Man, who unknown to either of them, should be placed in some secret Part of the Room unseen, to hear attentively whatever passed in Conversation between them. For if the Son was really in his Senses he would have no Difficulty in speaking freely to a Mother's Ear, nor mistrust the Fidelity of her that bore him. And that he might not seem more forward to advise than ready to execute, he desired himself to be the Spy.
Fengo
approved the Scheme, and sets out with the Pretence of taking a long Journey.
Mean while the Projector having privately stole to the Chamber where
Amleth
and his Mother were, lay hid under the Matt of the Bed.
But
Amleth
was not the Dupe of this Treachery. For suspecting that he might be overheard by some officious Listener, he has at first Recourse to his accustomed Folly, and imitates the crowing of a Cock, and flapping his Arms as if they were Wings, he jumps up and down upon the Bed to try if any Thing lay hid there. And when he found a Mass under his Feet he examined the Place with his Sword, and stabs the Man who was underneath, and dragging him forth put him to Death. Cutting the Body in Pieces, he boils them, and pours them out through the Sewer to be devoured by the Hogs.
And thus was the miserable Body rendered undistinguishable from the Dung of the Stye.
Having escaped this Snare, he returns to his Mother's Apartment, and when she with great Lamentation and Tears began to bemoan the want of Understanding in her Son now present, "Why; O! worst of Women, says he, dost thou endeavour to disguise the foulest Crime under a false Species of Wailing? Thou, who sporting with the Wantonness of a Strumpet, and yielding to the vile and impious Condition of your second Marriage, embrace in your incestuous Bosom the Murderer of your Husband, and fawn upon, and please with lewdest Transport the very Man who put to death the Father of your Offspring; so Mares are coupled with Horses that subdued their Foremates. It is for Beasts alone to be dragged to any, and to every Male. By this Example it appears that you have lost all Memory of your former Husband. It is not without Reason that I bear the Resemblance of a Fool; for I cannot doubt that he who could destroy a Brother would with like Cruelty rage against his other Kindred. It is safer to wear the Garb of Folly than of Sense, and I must borrow a Safeguard from the lowest Species of Madness. Yet the Care of revenging my Father is ever present to my Mind, but I wait for Times and Seasons. The same Place suits not with every Scene or Purpose against a dark and cruel Mind, much Thought is requisite. But for you to lament my Madness is vain, when you ought rather to deplore your own Infamy; you should therefore not lament another's but your own Failing, for the rest be on your Guard and keep the strictest Silence. By such Reproach did he endeavour to recall his Heart-rent Mother to the Practice of former Habits of Virtue, and to teach her to prefer the former Flames of chaster Love to the present criminal Transports."
Fengo
returns, and of every one, and every where enquires for his injudicious Spy; but he is no more to be found, nor does any one remember to have seen him.
Amleth,
in jest, is asked whether he could discover any Tracts of him; and replies, "that he went in at the Sewer, fell to the Bostom, was kept down by the Mud, and devoured by the Hogs, who thronged to the Draught." Which Declaration, though true, seeming idle and foolish, was treated as ridiculous.
When
Fengo
no longer doubted of the Subtilty of his Son-in-law, he resolved to destroy him, but was afraid to execute his Purpose on account of his Grandfather,
Roderic,
and the Displeasure of his own Wife. To cover his Guilt by the Service of another, he purposes to have him destroyed by means of the King of
Britain.
Thus desirous of concealing his Cruelty, he chuses rather to pollute his Friend than to be thought infamous himself.
Amleth,
departing in secret, directs his Mother to furnish the Hall with Hangings well knotted together, and at the Expiration of a Year to report him dead, and celebrate his funeral Obsequies, and at that very time he promises to return.
He is attended by two of
Fengo
's Officers, bearing Letters inscribed on Wood (for that was once a famous Manner of Writing) by which it was given in Charge to the King of
Britain
to destroy the young Man that was sent to him.
Whilst these Officers slept,
Amleth
examining their Baggage discovers these Tablets; having read them, he rubs out what was written therein, and inserting other Characters, changes the Tenor of the Mandate from his own Destruction to the Death of his Attendants. Nor satisfied with this Alteration, whereby he saves his own Life and exposes that of his Guards, he adds, as the earnest Entreaty of
Fengo,
that the King of
Britain
would bestow his Daughter in Marriage upon that Youth he had sent him, who was most wise and prudent.
When they came to
Britain
the Envoys waited on the King, and presented the Instrument for their own Destruction, though they thought it threatned not them but their Companion.
The King, taking no Notice to them of the Instructions delivered him, entertains them with great Magnificence and Hospitality, when
Amleth,
despising the Splendor of the royal Tables as if they contained but common Food, abstains in a surprising Manner from the richest Exhibition of Dainties, both in Meats and Drinks.
All admired that a Youth of foreign Extract should nauseate the choicest Dainties of the royal Board and most excellent Luxury, as if it were coarse and homely Fare.
The Banquet ended, the King dismissed his Friends that they might retire to Rest, but took Care, by one sent privately and hid in their Apartments, to be informed of the Conversation of his Guests. When
Amleth
being asked by his Comrades why he abstained from the Entertainment of Yesterday as from Poison? "replied that the Bread was sprinkled with the Contagion of Blood, that the Wine tasted of the Sword, that the animal Food savoured of the Corpse of a dead Man, and was as offensive as the Smell of a Sepulchre."
He added "that the King had mean Eyes, that the Queen in three Instances resembled a Servant;" railing not only at the Feast but at the Authors of it.
His Companions, upbraiding him with his former want of Understanding, began to abuse him for having found Fault with approved good Things, blamed what was proper, and slandered with indecent Language a great King, and a Queen of refined Manners, and treated with Disgrace and Indignity those who really deserved Applause.
Which Circumstances being related to the King by his Officer, he declared the Wisdom or Madness of him who had related such Things of more than mortal Growth in so few Words to shew such Extent of Knowledge. He sent for the Steward, and enquired of him where he had the Bread, and when he was told that it was made by the Baker to the Houshold, he asked again where the Corn grew, and if there was any Sign of human Slaughter in that Place?
He answered "that there was a Field not far off covered with the Bones of Men long since slain, yet manifestly exhibiting the Remains of ancient Slaughter, which he, with Expectation of greater Plenty, as the richer Soil had sown with Spring Corn, and therefore he did not know whether the Bread might not have contracted a disagreeable Taste."
When the King heard this, believing
Amleth
had spoken Truth, he took Care to know whence the Bacon came.
The Man owned that the Swine, straying from his Care, had fed upon the Carcase of a Thief, and so perhaps the Meat might taste something like Corruption.
When the King found that his Opinion was true, demanded in this Instaece likewise with what Liquor he had mixed the Drink? as he knew it to be made of Corn and Water; the Situation of the Spring being shewn him he set about digging, and found many Swords eaten with Rust, from whence he supposed the Water had contracted that Smell.
Others said the Drink was found fault with because in the Draught he had met with Bees that had been bred in the Belly of a dead Man, and tasted of Comb. By which the King, seeing there was sufficient Reason to complain of the Taste of these Things, finding that he himself was reproached on account of his Eyes, and knowing that this must allude to Baseness of Birth, taking his Mother aside, demanded of her who was his Father, she declaring she knew no other than the King, by threatning her with Death unless she confessed; he discovered himself to be the Son of a Servant.
Thus by the extorted Confession he came to understand that his Origin, which had been reflected on, was at least ambiguous. He is confounded with Shame at this Discovery of his Condition, but no less charmed with the young Man's Wisdom; and asked him why he had reproachfully slurred the Queen as one of servile Manners? But whilst he laments that the gentle Disposition of his Wife was attacked by the Discourse of his Guest in the Night, he learns that her Mother was a waiting Woman; and whereas he said she exhibited three Defects of a servile Nature, they are these. One, "that she dressed her Head in the same Manner as Servants do, another, that she tucked up her Gown in walking, the third was, that she picked her Teeth with a Skewer, and eat the Pickings of them. He took Notice that her Mother was reduced to Servitude by becoming a Captive, so that she was not less servile in her Birth than her Manners."
Such Sagacity being reverenced by the King, as if it were divine, he gave him his Daughter in Marriage, and received his Affirmation of any Thing as if it bore the Testimony of Heaven. But as for his Companions, that he might perform the Behest of his Friends, he hanged them up the next Day, which, though an Advantage,
Amleth
seemed to resent as an Injury, feigning a Distress of Mind, and received Money by way of Composition from the King; which he afterwards took Care secretly to melt down and pour into hollow Staves.
Having stay'd with him a Year, he obtains Leave to depart, and returns home again, taking nothing out of the Magazine of royal Treasure but the hollow Staves, in which he had poured the Gold. When he arrived at
Jutland,
he resumed his old Behaviour, changing his late Elegance for the ridiculous Manner he had before employed. And when he entered the Hall, covered with Nastiness, where the Funeral Rites were celebrated, he threw every body into great Amazement, because a false Report had been spread of his Death. At length their Astonishment was turned into Laughter, and the Guests rallied each other upon the Presence of him alive, to whom they had performed Honours as dead.
When questioned concerning his Companions, he said, shewing the Staves he held, "Here is both the one and the other;" which was said with equal Wit and Truth, for though it appeared an unmeaning Speech to most who heard it, yet swerved not from his customary regard to Truth, shewing the Compensation instead of the Men that were executed.
Then mixing with the Waiters, that he might heighten the Mirth of the Table, he supplied them with Liquor with more than ordinary Diligence, and that his flowing Habit might not obstruct his moving up and down, he girt it round him with his Belt, and often with Design, drawing his Sword, he cut his Fingers with the Point; Care therefore was taken by those about him to fasten his Sword in the Scabbard with a Nail.
That he might the more securely effect his Purpose he charged the Nobility with Excess of Liquor, till all were overcame with Drinking, and, unable to walk, were obliged to take up their Rest in the Hall, and sleep where they had been feasting. And when he observed them in a Condition fit for his Designs, believing the Execution of it was in his Power, he puts the Brands he had formerly prepared into his Bosom, and then re-entering the Hall where the Nobles lay stretched on the Ground, oppressed with Sleep and Surfeit, he let fall the Curtain his Mother had wove, by cutting the Lines that held it round the sides of the Room, which he drew over them, and fastened with the Hooks in so artful a Manner, that not one of them, though he strove with never so much Strength, could possibly get up.
After this he sets fire to the Room, which spreading far and wide, soon set the whole House in a Blaze, destroyed the Palace, and burnt all, both those that continued asleep, and those who laboured to rise but in vain. Thence hasting to
Fengo
's Apartment, who had been before conducted thither by his Attendants, he took his Sword that hung by his Bed, and put his own in its room; then rousing his Uncle, he told him that his Nobles were destroyed by Fire, that
Amleth
was there, and furnished with the Hooks he had formerly made, and was now present with him eager to inflict the Vengeance due for his Father's Death.
On hearing this,
Fengo
jumps from his Bed, and was murdered, while disappointed of his own he vainly endeavours to draw
Amleth
's Sword. O! brave Man! and worthy everlasting Renown, who, furnishing himself wisely with counterfeit Folly, covered more than human Wisdom under the Guise of a Natural, not only secured his own Safety by that Artifice, but obtained the Means of compleatly revenging his Father, and having so done, it is left for every one to judge which was greater, his Bravery or Wisdom.
The End of the Third Book of the History of
Denmark,
by
SAXO-GRAMMATICUS.
The next Book opens with the Convention of the Nobles, before whom
Amleth
making an Oration, in which he owns and justifies his Conduct, all are moved, some to Pity, some to Tears, and they proclaim him King.
After this he repairs to
Britain
to revisit his Wife and Father-in-law. The King had long been under an Engagement to revenge any Injury to
Fengo;
and this prevails over his Affection for a Son-in-law; but unwilling to execute this Vengeance himself, he sends him to
Hermutruda,
Queen of
Scotland,
upon an Embassy to court her for him, his Wife being dead, and this
Scottish
Lady was reported to be of so cruel a Temper as to put to Death her Suitors; but she discovering the Disposition and Actions of
Amleth,
loves and prevails on him to marry her.
They go to
Britain,
his first Wife forgives him, and her Father attacking him with his Forces, is by the
Danes
defeated and slain.
Amleth
returns home again with both his Wives; where he finds
Viglet,
the Successor of
Roderic,
who was dead. This new Sovereign had stript his Mother of her royal Treasures, and denied the Right of her Son to
Jutland.
Amleth
at last is forced to engage him in unequal War, and is slain. And the fair
Hermutruda,
who had taken the Camp, and determined to share his Fate, willingly yielded herself to the Conqueror's Arms.
Viglet
died in Years, and was succeeded by
Wermund.
OBSERVATIONS
on the Use
Shakespear
has made of the foregoing Story in his Tragedy of
Hamlet.
The Fable of the Tragedy of
Hamlet.
CLAUDIUS,
the reigning King of
Denmark,
having secretly murdered his Brother, in order to possess himself of his Throne afterwards, married his Widow; the Ghost of the deceased King appears to some Centinels, who were posted on the Platform before the Palace; these Soldiers tell
Marcellus,
their Officer, what they had seen, and he acquainting
Horatio,
the Friend of
Hamlet,
Son to the deceased King, with it; these two Gentlemen watch one Night on the Platform, with an Intention to speak to the Apparition if it should appear. The Ghost at the accustomed Hour appears.
Horatio
solemnly conjures it to speak, and unfold the Cause of its Appearance, but the Ghost continues silent and stalks away.
Horatio
thereupon resolves to tell
Hamlet
what had happened; the Prince, full of Grief for his Father's Death, displeased at his Mother's incestuous Marriage, and discontented with the Behaviour of his Uncle, immediately concludes from this Account of his Father's Spirit appearing that all was not well, and declares to his two Friends that he will watch with them that Night on the Platform, and speak to the Spirit.
Accordingly at Midnight he meets them at the appointed Place, and the Ghost soon after appearing,
Hamlet
in a most earnest and affecting Manner conjures it to speak, and acquaint him with the Cause of its appearing. The Ghost beckens him to follow it; his Companions, apprehending some Danger might happen to his Person, endeavour to retain him, hut in vain,
Hamlet
breaks from them and follows the Ghost, who bringing him to a remote Place declares that he is the Spirit of his Father, that he was poisoned in his Garden by his Brother, who lusted for his Wife and Crown; he then charges him to revenge his Murder, and vanishes.
Hamlet
vows to fulfil his Commands, and to conceal the Grief and Indignation which prey upon his Heart, and his vowed Purpose of Revenge, counterfeits Madness; which alarming the guilty King, and troubling his Mother, they send for two of his School-fellows to amuse him, and engage him in Diversions to abate the Force of his Melancholy.
Polonius,
an old Lord, very faithful to the King's Interests, and whose Daughter,
Ophelia, Hamlet
is in Love with; from her Report of a frantic Visit he made her, concludes he is mad for her; she having, according to his Orders, returned his Letters and Presents, and refused to hear his Professions as usual.
Pollonius,
having as he thought discovered the Cause of
Hamlet
's Madness, acquaints the King and Queen with his Suspicions:
Ophelia
is designedly thrown in his way, while the King and
Polonius
conceal themseves to hear their Discourse.
Hamlet,
after uttering a great many sensible Extravagancies, leaves
Ophelia
firmly convinced of his Madness, which she affectionately deplores; but the King, who had heard all his Discourse, being persuaded that Love was not the Cause of his Melancholy, and that there might be Danger in it, resolves to send him to
England
to demand the Tribute, the Payment of the Tribute which had been long neglected.
Polonius,
to whom he communicates this Scheme, approves of it, but advises that the Queen should first send for him, and in a private Conversation intreat him to discover the Cause of his Uneasiness.
The King consents, mean Time
Hamlet
having engaged some Players to represent a Piece something like the Murder of his Father, invites the King and Queen to the Play; and he doubting that the Spirit that appeared to him might be a lying Spirit, resoves to make the Play the Test of the King's Conscience; he therefore desires his Friend,
Horatio,
to join with him in carefully observing the King's Countenance during the Representation of one particular Scene, which resembles the Circumstance of his Father's Death, adding,
——If his occult Guilt
Do not itself unkennel in one Speech,
It it a damned Ghost that we have seen.
Accordingly the King is so much struck with that Scene that he rises abruptly and goes out, by which
Hamlet
is convinced that the Ghost had told him nothing but Truth. The Queen then sends for
Hamlet
with an Intention to question him concerning his late Behaviour, and
Polonius,
with her Consent, conceals himself behind the Arras to hear their Discourse.
The Queen being frighted at her Son's rude Treatment of her, cries out for Help,
Polonius
behind the Arras echoes her, and
Hamlet,
supposing it was the King who had concealed himself there, kills him.
After a severe Lecture to his Mother, he charges her not to discover that his Madness is feigned, declares that he suspects some Treason in the Embassy he is sent on to
England,
yet resolves to go, and madly takes Leave of the King and her for that Purpose.
Ophelia,
at the News of her Father's being murdered by
Hamlet,
grows distracted; her Brother,
Laertes,
fired by Rage and Grief, raises a Mutiny to revenge his Father. The King declares that he is innocent of his Father's Death, informs him of the Manner of it, and joins with him in conspiring the Murder of
Hamlet.
Hamlet,
suspecting the Letters his two Schoolfellows carried to
England
contained some dangerous Instructions concerning himself, steals them, and upon examining them finds therein an earnest Request from his Uncle to the King of
England,
to put him to Death on his Arrival at his Court.
Hamlet
suppresses this Letter, and writes another in the Name of his Uncle to the same King, in which he desires him to put the Bearers of that Letter to Death; this Packet he lays in the Place from whence he had taken the other.
The next Day they are attacked by a Pyrate, they fight, and
Hamlet
boarding it alone, is taken Prisoner, and his two Companions continue their Voyage to
England.
Hamlet
prevails upon the Pirates to land him in
Denmark
; the King hearing of his Return, urges
Laertes,
who breathes nothing but Revenge against him, to kill him treacherously as they are fencing with Foils, to which he will engage him, by pretending to lay a Wager on his superior Skill at that Exercise.
Laertes
consents, and adds that he will anoint the Point of his Sword with a strong Poison, that if he draws Blood he may be sure to kill him.
In the mean Time the distracted
Ophelia
is accidentally drowned; the King, the Queen, and her Brother attend her Funeral: As soon as she is laid in the Earth,
Laertes,
in a Transport of Grief, leaps into her Grave.
Hamlet,
understanding that it is
Ophelia
whom they had buried, wildly asserting his Claim as a Lover to superior Sorrow, leaps into the Grave likewise, where
Laertes,
quite overcome with Rage and Grief, furiously fastens on him; they are with Difficulty parted by the King's Command, and some time after the King, as if nothing had happened, sends a Message to
Hamlet,
requesting him to fence with
Laertes
for a considerable Wager;
Hamlet
obeys, they meet in a Hall, the King and Queen being present.
The King, to make sure Work, after drinking
Hamlet
's Health, poisons the Wine, and offers the Cup to
Hamlet
; he refuses it, and the Queen, not knowing that the Wine is poisoned, drinks, though the King endeavours to prevent her.
Laertes
wounds
Hamlet
with the poisoned Rapier, in the Scuffle they change Weapons, and
Hamlet
wounds
Laertes,
they both bleed; the Queen is seized with the Agonies of Death, she tells her Son that the Wine is poisoned, and expires.
Laertes,
full of Remorse for the Treachery he had been guilty of, confesses the whole Contrivance, and the Part the King had in it.
Hamlet
stabs the King with the poisoned Sword that had wounded both him and
Laertes,
and upon the King's calling for Help obliges him to drink of the Wine he had poisoned.
The King dies, and
Hamlet
and
Laertes
exchanging Forgiveness with each other, both expire.
Hamlet
with his last Breath commanding his Friend,
Horatio,
who would have killed himself, to live and do Justice to his Fame, by declaring his Story to the World.
The Translation of the Story of
Amleth
from the
Danish
History of
Saxo-Grammaticus,
I was favoured with by a Friend; the Story itself is full of ridiculous Fancies, wild and improbable Circumstances, and as it is conducted, has more the Appearance of a Romance than an Historical Fact.
That
Shakespear
founded his
Tragedy of Hamlet
upon it is very plain, but is it uncertain whether he saw a literal Translation of it, or met with the Incidents drest up like a Novel, and perhaps with those Alterations which he has adopted in his Play. All the principal Circumstances are the same in the Play as the History. In both a Prince murders his Brother, usurps his Dignity, and marries his Widow: The Son of the murdered Prince resolves to revenge his Father; for that Purpose he feigns himself mad, and at last accomplishes his Design; several of the lesser Circumstances are also as exactly copied, and others have afforded Hints for new ones.
Amleth
has a private Interview with his Mother, and kills the Spy who had been appointed to overhear their Conversation.
Hamlet
likewise visits the Queen in her Apartment, and kills
Polonius,
who had concealed himself behind the Hangings.
When the Spies are removed the Discourse of the two Princes is much the same; they reproach their Mothers with their incestuous Marriage, sharply reprove them for their Crimes declare their Madness to be feigned, and enjoin them to Secresy.
The Embassy to
England
is designed after the History.
Shakespear
indeed makes
Hamlet,
after two Days Absence, be set on shore again at
Denmark;
and
Amleth
in the History arrives in
England,
has his Companions hanged, and marries the King's Daughter before he comes back. But
Shakespear
's Plan required the immediate Return of
Hamlet;
however the Contrivance of changing the Letters are the same, and of punishing the treacherous Bearers of them.
Shakespear
makes those Bearers the Schoolfellows, and profest Friends of
Hamlet;
a Circumstance which heightens their Baseness, and justifies the Artifice he uses to procure their Punishment.
The Design of entrapping
Amleth
by means of a Girl, has not been wholly neglected by
Shakespear,
though he manages this Incident much more decently.
Ophelia,
with whom he is in Love, is ordered to throw herself in his way, and the King and his Confident listen to their Conversation. 'Tis very easy to see he took the Hint of this Stratagem from the Story, though it is very differently conducted, for
Ophelia
is not a loose Wanton as in the History, but a Woman of Honour, with whom he is in love. The accidental killing of her Father, and her Distraction, which was caused by it, is all his own Invention, and would have made a very affecting Episode if the Lady had been more modest in her Frenzy, and the Lover more uniformly afflicted for her Death; for at his first hearing it he expresses only a slight Emotion; presently he jumps into her Grave, fiercely demands to be buried with her, fights with her Brother for professing to love her, then grows calm, and never thinks of her any more.
The Ghost is wholly the Invention of
Shakespear,
as is likewise the King's concerted Scheme with
Laertes,
to kill
Hamlet
treacherously as they fenced, or if he failed to poison the Wine. The King is killed by
Hamlet
both in the History and the Play, but in the Play he is stabb'd in the midst of his Friends, Guards, and Attendants; in the History as he is rising in Confusion from his Bed, and unable to draw his Sword to defend himself.
Here the Historian, romantic as his Relation seems, has the Advantage of the Poet in Probability. After
Amleth
has secured his Uncle's Attendants, taken away his Sword from him, and placed his own, which was fastened to the Scabbard, in its stead; it was not difficult for him to kill him disarmed, and without any Assistance.
But
Shakespear
makes
Hamlet
execute his Vengeance on the King in a public Hall, crouded with his Attendants and Guards, and surrounded by his Friends; none of these offer to assist him, and
Hamlet
has leisure enough after he has stabbed him to make him drink some of the Wine he had poisoned, lest his Sword had not compleated the Work.
The Queen's Death, by drinking ignorantly of the poisoned Wine is a beautiful Stroke of the Poet's. The History shews her unfortunate, but
Shakespear
makes the same Man who seduced her to Wickedness be her involuntary Murderer, and at once the Cause and Punisher of her Guilt.
Shakespear
has with Reason been censured for the Catastrophe of this Tragedy. The brave, the injured
Hamlet
falls with the Murderers he punishes; one Fate overwhelms alike the innocent and the guilty. In the History we find he did not live long after the severe Revenge he took for his Father's Murder, but was unfortunately killed in Battle.
Shakespear
would not so far deviate from the History as to leave him happy and in Peace, though he has hastened his Death as well as changed the Manner of it. He is killed by the treacherous Contrivance of the King, and
Laertes
is the Instrument of that Treachery, which is afterwards turned upon himself.
As
Laertes
is a subordinate Character in the Play, it seems to be a Fault in
Shakespear
to shew him with a Similitude of Manners, under the same Circumstances, and acting upon the same Principles as
Hamlet,
his Hero.
Laertes
is brave and generous; his Father is murdered basely as he is informed; Duty and Honour incite him to revenge his Death, and he does so.
This Sameness of Character, and Parity of Circumstances with the Hero, lessens his Importance, and almost divides our Attention and Concern between them; an Effect which
Shakespear
certainly did not intend to produce, nor can it be lessened by the Consideration of the treacherous Measures
Laertes
was prevailed upon to enter into against
Hamlet,
who had murdered his Father. In this he does not differ much from
Hamlet,
who did not attempt by open Force to revenge his Father's Murder on his Uncle, but designed to accomplish it by Subtilty and Craft.
The same Equality is preserved in their Deaths, and in their Actions throughout the Play.
Laertes
wounds
Hamlet
with the poisoned Weapon, in the Scuffle they change Rapiers, and
Hamlet
wounds
Laertes,
and they exchange Forgiveness with each other before they die.
Thus has
Shakespear,
undesignedly, no doubt given us two Heroes instead of one in this Play; the only Difference between them is that one of them is a Prince, the other a Nobleman, and but for this slight Distinction the Play might have been as well called the
Tragedy of Laertes
as
Hamlet.
It ought to be observed that
Shakespear
has not been led into this Error by the History; the Character of
Laertes,
and all the Circumstances relating to him is his own, which he has introduced by making the Spy, who is killed, Father of
Laertes.
The Madness of
Hamlet
seems to be less essential to the Play than the History; in the latter it affords him the Means of executing a Contrivance, which, absurd as it is, secures the Accomplishment of his Revenge; but in the Play it is of no other Use than to enliven the Dialogue, unless its Usefulness may be deduced from its bringing on such Accidents as it was assumed to prevent; for
Hamlet
's Madness alarms the King's Suspicion, and that produces the treacherous Embassy to
England,
which failing, the Contrivance of the poisoned Rapier followed, and that does the Business.
But since the King's conscious Guilt and Terror might reasonably have created a Distrust of
Hamlet,
and that Distrust, and a Desire of Security induced him to seek his Death, what need had
Shakespear
to make his Heroe's Sense and Discretion appear doubtful, by shewing him feigning a Madness, destructive to his Safety, and which he himself knows to be so, and yet persists in.
Shakespear
has indeed followed the History in making
Hamlet
feign himself mad; but that Madness being of no Consequence to the principal Design of the Play, as it is in the History, or if of Consequence it hurts the Reputation of his Hero, 'tis certainly a Fault; for at least he only produces the same Events by a Blunder, which might have happened without it.
The Violation of poetical Justice is not the only Fault that arises from the Death of
Hamlet;
the revenging his Father's Murder is the sole End of all his Designs, and the great Business of the Play, and the noble and fixed Resolution of
Hamlet
to accomplish it, makes up the most shining Part of his Character; yet this great End is delayed till after
Hamlet
is mortally wounded: He stabs the King immediately upon the Information of his Treachery to himself! thus his Revenge becomes interested, and he seems to punish his Uncle rather for his own Death, than the Murder of the King, his Father.
FINIS.
BOOKS Printed for
A. MILLAR,
in the
Strand.
1. THE FEMALE QUIXOTE; or the Adventures of ARABELLA, 2 vols. The Second Edition, revised and corrected. Price 6s.
2. The Life of HARRIOT STUART, 2 vols. Price 5s. The above by the Author of SHAKESPEAR Illustrated.
3. The Works of Mr. THOMPSON. In 3 vols. Octavo, with Cuts.
4. Ditto Four Volumes Twelves. To both which are added, Some POEMS never before printed.
5. The
Seasons,
in a Pocket Edition, and most of his Pieces separate.
6. The Works of Mr. MALLET, consisting of Plays and Poems.
7. POEMS in 2 vols. The Second Edition.
8. The TEA-TABLE MISCELLANY: Or, A Collection of
Scots
and
English
Songs, 4 vols.—
N. B.
The 4th Volume is to be had alone, to complete the Sets of such as bought the 3 Vols. The Eleventh Edition.
9. The History of the ADVENTURES of JOSEPH ANDREWS, and his Friend Mr. ABRAHAM ADAMS. Written in Imitation of the
Manner
of CERVANTES, Author of
Don Quixote.
The Fifth Edition, revised and corrected, with Alterations and Additions, and illustrated with Cuts. 2 vols.
10. MISCELLANIES. In 3 vols. Containing
Vol. 1. All his Works and some short Essays in Prose
Vol. 2. A Journey from this World to the next,
&c.
Vol. 3. The History of that tr
y renowned Person
Jonathan Wild,
Esq
In which not only his Character, but that of divers other
great Personages
of his Time are set in a just and true Light.
11. The History of TOM JONES, a Foundling. The Fourth Edition, in 4 vols.
12. AMELIA, 4 vol. 12mo. These Four by
Henry Fielding.
13. The ADVENTURES of DAVID SIMPLE: Containing an Account of his Travels thro' the Cities of
London
and
Westminster,
in the Search of a REAL FRIEND. By a LADY. The Second Edition, revised and corrected, with Alterations and Additions; and a Preface by
Henry Fielding,
Esq
5 vols. 15s.
Note,
The Third and Fourth Volume containing Familiar Letters, may be had separate: As also the Fifth, being the Conclusion of his Adventures.
14. The GOVERNESS: Or, The LITTLE FEMALE ACADEMY. Calculated for the Entertainment and Instruction of young Ladies in their Education. By the Author of DAVID SIMPLE. The Second Edition, revised and corrected. A Book entirely adapted, and exceeding proper, for the Use of Schools.
15. The HISTORY of CORNELIA.
16. LEONORA: Or,
Characters drawn from real Life.
Containing a greater Variety of Incidents, interspersed with Reflections Moral and Entertaining. The Second Edition, 2 vols.
17. The LADY's DRAWING-ROOM. Being a faithful Picture of the Great World. In which the various Humours of both Sexes are display'd.
Drawn from the Life,;
and interspersed with entertaining and affecting Novels.
18. A POETICAL TRANSLATION of the Works of HORACE: With the
Original Text
and
Notes,
collected from the best
Latin
and
French
Commentators on that Author, By the Reverend Mr. PHILIP FRANCIS, Rector of
Skeyton
in
Norfolk.
In 4 vols. Octavo.