PREFACE.
THis Nations Excellencies in Dramatick Poetry have been so extraordinary, and our Performance both in Tragedy and Comedy have discover’d such strange Genius’s, that we have some reason to believe, that we have not only surpass’d our Neighbours the Moderns, but likewise have excell’d our Masters the Ancients. But the want of Knowledge of the Ancients has been one great Reason for our setting our selves so very much above ’em; for tho’ we have many Beauties which they wanted, yet it must be own’d, that they have more which we have not, except that it may be some very few of our Pieces. But then their Excellencies are far less known to us than ours; for the Common People are unacquainted with their Languages, and the more Learned sort, for want of due Observance and Penetration, have been ignorant enough of their essential Beauties; they, for the most part, contenting themselves with considering the superficial ones, such as the Stile, Language, Expression, and the like, without taking much notice of the Contrivance and Management, of the Plots, Characters, &c.
But a considerable Discovery of these Excellencies has been made by means of a late Version of Terence, especially by the help of the Preface and Remarks: And this has made me hope, that two or three Plays of Plautus’s cou’d not be very unacceptable after them; and since the principal Fault of the Remarks in that Version was their being too short, I have made these somewhat longer and clearer, hoping they will prove the principal means of recommending this Book to the World, even tho’ the Translation had been brought to the utmost Perfection it was capable of: a Thing which I dare never pretend to. I made Choice of the same three which Madam Dacier had done before me; those being, in many respects, fitter for my purpose. But before I come to Particulars in those Things, I shall give some Character and Account of my Author.
Plautus, if consider’d as a Dramatick Poet, may justly enough be stil’d the Prince of the Latin Comedians, for tho’ most of ’em are lost, and consequently little capable of being judg’d of, yet, from all Circumstances, we have good reason to presume that they never came up to Plautus; so that there is no one to stand in competition with him but Terence: But if Comedy consists more in Action than Discourse, then Terence himself must be oblig’d to give place to our Author; and as Terence ought to be esteem’d as a Man who spoke admirably, Plautus is to be admir’d as a Comick-Poet. The principal Differences of these two Poets have been touch’d upon in the Preface to the English Terence; and from thence it will appear, that Plautus had the vaster Genius, and
Terence the more exquisite Judgment; and, considering what Persons they copied, as the later was call’d the Half Menander, so the former may be stil’d the Half Aristophanes.
Terence’s Stile was generally more refin’d and pure, and withal more elaborate than this Poet’s; yet undoubtedly, Plautus was a most absolute Master of his Tongue, and in many Places there appear such a Sharpness and Liveliness of Expression, nay and such a Neatness and Politeness too, that is scarce to be found in Terence; and this, perhaps, may have occasion’d Varro to say, That if the Muses were to speak Latin, they wou’d certainly make use of his very Stile; and Tanaquill Faber to call Plautus, The very Fountain of pure Latin. As to Wit and Raillery, Terence might by no means be compared to him; then he is not always so happy, but often degenerates to a Meanness that Terence wou’d never have been guilty of; and tho’ his Jests and Repartees were sometimes admirable, and often far above Terence’s, yet they were many times as much below him, and by their Trifling and Quibbling, appear to have been calculated for the Mob. This, probably, made Rapin observe, That he says the best Things in the World, and yet very often he says the most wretched. A little before he says, Plautus is ingenious in his Designs, happy in his Imaginations, fruitful in his Invention; yet, that there are some insipid Jests that escape from him in the Taste of Horace; and his good Sayings that make the People laugh, make sometimes the honester sort to pity him. The most remarkable Thing in his Stile,
is the natural and unaffected Easiness of it, I mean in opposition to Stiffness, which with the true Elegance and Propriety of the Latin Tongue in Common Discourse, seems almost its distinguishing Character, and sets him above any other Roman Author in that respect. ’Tis true, Terence has all these Excellencies, and perhaps is more exact in Propriety of Terms, and in his Choice of Words, yet his extream Closeness and great Elaborateness, I presume, has made it somewhat less Free and Familiar, or at least it wou’d be so if any other Man of less Judgment had managed it. So that what I mean is, that Plautus’s Stile ought rather to be imitated for Common Discourse than Terence’s. Plautus had the Misfortune of living in a worser Age than Terence, therefore there must be a larger Allowance for his Obsolete Words, his Puns, and Quibbles, as well as those Words that were peculiar to the Theatre and his Subjects, which, if once transplanted, wou’d never thrive elsewhere.
Next, may be consider’d our Authors Characters; and in that point indeed, Terence triumphs without a Rival, as was observ’d in the Preface to that Author; and for a just and close Observance of Nature, perhaps no Man living ever excell’d him. It ought to be observ’d, that Plautus was somewhat poor, and made it his principal Aim to please and tickle the Common People; and since they were almost always delighted with something new, strange, and unusual, the better to humour them, he was not only frequently extravagant in his Expressions, but likewise in his Characters too, and drew Men often more Vicious,
more Covetous, more Foolish, &c. than generally they were; and this to set the People a gazing and wondering. With these sort of Characters many of our modern Comedies abound, which makes ’em too much degenerate into Farce, which seldom fail of pleasing the Mob. But our Author had not many of these; for a great part of ’em were very true and natural, and such as may stand the Test of the severest Judges. His two most remarkable Characters, are his Miser, and his Bragadocio; and that the Reader may the more clearly understand the nature of these Characters, their Resemblance to some of ours, and their Unlikeness to those of Terence, I shall give a Translation of some part of ’em. First then, take the First Act of his Third Comedy call’d Aulularia, which begins with the Old Covetous Fellow and his Maid.
Euclio and Staphila.
Euc. Out-a-doors, I say: Come out. I’ll fetch ye out with a Horse-pox, for a damnable, prying, nine-ey’d Witch.
Sta. Why do you misuse a poor Rogue at this rate?
Euc. To make ye a poor Rogue as long as you live, like a Jade as you are.
Sta. But why, Sir, am I thrust out-a-doors now?
Euc. Must I give you an account, you hempen Bitch?—— Get you from the Door:— that way:— See how the Jade moves.—— Observe what you’ll meet with. If I take a good Cudgel or a Whip, ’sbud, I shall soon put you out o’ your Snails pace.
Sta. softly:] Wou’d I were hang’d out o’ the way, rather than be bound to serve such an old Rogue.
Euc. How the Jipsey mutters to her self!—— Faith, I shall spoil those damn’d eyes, then look what I’m doing if you can.— Huzzy, go further off:— Further still:— Further still:—— Still, I say.—— So! stand there.—— Now, you Baggage, stir one step, move a hairs breadth, or look back i’ the least till I speak, and by Cocks-nowns, I’ll hang y’ up in an instant.— [To himself, going off.] I ne’re met with a more subtle old Hag than this i’ my days: I’m cursedly afraid this Witch shou’d trap me in my discourse, and discover the place where I’ve hid my Gold: Troth, I believe the consuming Jade has Eyes in her Breech.—— Now for my Gold, that has cost me such a woful deal of trouble, I’ll go see whether that be safe as I hid it. Exit Euclio.
Staphila alone.
As I live, I can’t devise or imagine what Evil Genius or Madness has possess’d my Master; he uses me so inhumanely; and kicks me out a doors ten times a day. Troth, it puzzles me strangely to find out the meaning of his crazy Whims: He watches whole Nights together; and sits all day long within doors, like a lame Cobler upon his Stall.—— Well, considering these Plagues, and the difficulty of concealing my young Mistresses Labour, now at hand, I find no way but making a short cut, and hanging my self.
Re-enter Euclio.
Euc. Now I’ve found all well within doors, my mind’s a little at ease.—— Now come in, and keep House.
Sta. What, for fear it shou’d be stolen away? There’s no Plunder for Thieves; there’s nothing but Emptiness and Cobwebs.
Euc. I’ll warrant ye, I must keep a House like an Emperor for your sake, you old Sorceress? Huzzy, I’ll have every Cobweb taken care of, and preserv’d.
I’m very poor, I confess; but I patiently bear what the Gods lay upon me.—— Get ye in, and make fast the door; I’ll be back presently. Take a special care you don’t let e’re a Soul come within the doors; and that they mightn’t pretend an Excuse to borrow Fire, I’ll ha’ ye put it all out: If there be any now, out with’t in an instant. If they want Water, tell ’em the Pump is dry; if they wou’d borrow a Knife, an Axe, a Mortar, or a Pestil, as Neighbours us’d to do, tell ’em the House was robb’d, and they’re all stolen. ’Sbud, I’ll ha’ no body set a step within my House when I’m gone; therefore if Good-luck her self shou’d come, I charge ye keep her out.
Sta. Troth, you needn’t fear her coming; for were she at the Threshold, she’d ne’re come in.
Euc. Hold your prating Tongue, and get ye in.
Sta. To please you, I’ll do both.
Euc. And besure you secure the Door with two great Bolts: I’ll be here instantly. Exit Staphila.
Euclio alone.
O, I’m wretchedly perplex’d that I’m forc’d to go out a doors now; and troth, it goes sore against my mind; however, ’tis upon sure grounds. For now’s the time for our Officer to distribute the Money to the Poor: Now if I shou’d be negligent, and not be among the Beggars, I’m afraid the World wou’d presently conclude, that I had got Gold at home. For ’tis n’t likely such a poor Fellow as I pretend to be, shou’d so little value Money, as not to be there. Notwithstanding my restless care of concealing this Gold, it strangely runs in my Head, that all the World knows of it, and every body seems to be more obliging, and to complement me more than ever. They meet me, stay me, embrace me, enquire after my Health, my Welfare, and every thing.—— Well, I’ll go, and be back again as soon as possibly. Exit.
Here we see a considerable deal of the strange Nature of this old miserable Fellow; and this Character he has carry’d through the whole Play: But to see his Humour a little more perfectly, take part of the fourth Scene of the second Act; where the Servant Strobulus and the two Cooks are discoursing about this Miser.
Strobulus and Congrio.
Stro. A Pumice-stone is not half so dry as that old Huncks.
Con. Say ye so, introth?
Stro. Take this from me. If the least Smoke shou’d chance to fly out of his House, he strait allarms the Town, exclaims against Heaven and Earth, that he’s undone, and ruin’d for ever!—— I’ll tell ye: whene’re he goes to Bed he tyes a Bladder at his Nose.
Con. What for?
Stro. For fear of losing part of his Soul when he’s asleep.
Con. And doesn’t he plug up his lower Bung-hole too, lest any shou’d steal out that way?
Stro. ’Tis civil to believe me, since I do you.
Con. Why, truly, I do believe ye.
Stro. Did you never hear, how it goes to the Soul of him to pour out the Water he has once wash’d his hands in?
Con. Do’st think, Boy, we shall be able to squeeze out a swinging sum of Money of this old Gripes, to purchase our Freedom with?
Stro. Troth, shou’d ye beg Hunger it self of him, the Wretch wou’d deny ye. Nay more; whenever he gets his Nails to be cut, he carefully scrapes up all the Parings, and saves ’em.
Con. Why, faith, this is the most miserable Cur upon the face of the Earth.—— But is he really such a pinching Wretch as you say?
Stro. Why t’other day a Kite chanc’d to steal a bit of something from him; this poor Devil goes strait to my Lord Chief Justice’s, crying, roaring, and houling for his Warrant to apprehend it.—— O, I cou’d tell ye a thousand of these Stories, if I had leisure.
This is stretching of a Character a degree above Nature and Probability; yet these sort, at first sight, will glare and dazle a common Audience, and sometimes give a superficial Pleasure to a more judicious one; but are carefully to be avoided by any correct Writer.
His Miles Gloriosus, or Braggadocio, is as remarkable a Character as this, and there you may see another too in the same place, one who wheadles as much as the other boasts, and plays the Knave as much as the other does the Fool. For the Reader’s Satisfaction, here follows a Translation of the first Act of the Miles Gloriosus, which begins between that Blockhead and his Buffoon.
Pyrgopolinices, with his Servant Artotrogus, and his Soldiers.
Pyr. to his Soldiers.] Take care to have my Buckler out-shine the resplendent Sun, when the Heavens are serene; so that in the midst o’ the Battel, I may dazle the Eyes of my Enemies, and confound every man of ’em.—— In the mean time, I’ll comfort my bold Bilbo, that he might n’t be dull and melancholly for want of use this long time; for the poor Rogue is damnably eager to slice all my Foes, and make a Hash of ’em.—— But where’s Artotrogus?
Art. Here, an’t like your Honour, ready to wait upon a Man o’ the greatest Fortitude and Fortune i’ th’
Universe, and o’ the most majestick Air; then for personal Valour, Lord, Mars himself dare n’t pretend to measure Swords with you.
Pyr. You mean him in the spatious Gurgustidonian Plains, the mighty Generalissimo, Bombomachides— Cluninstaridy— Sarchides, great Neptune’s Grand-child?——
Art. ——The same, Sir. Him with the golden Armour, whose whole Army you blew away with a single Puff, like Leaves before the Wind, and Feathers in a Storm.
Pyr. By Hercules, ’twas nothing.
Art. No, faith, Sir, nothing at all to what I can relate,—— [Aside] but the Devil a bit of Truth’s in’t. If any Man can shew me a greater Lyer, or a more bragging Coxcomb than this Blunderbuss, he shall take me, make me his Slave, and starve me with Whey and Butter-milk— Well, Sir?
Pyr. Where are you?
Art. Here, Sir:—— Wonderful! how you broke the great Indian Elephants Arm with your single Fist?
Pyr. What Arm?
Art. I wou’d ha’ said Thigh.
Pyr. Pshaw, I did that with ease.
Art. By Jove, Sir, had you us’d your full Strength, you’d ha’ flead, gutted, and bon’d the huge Beast at once.
Pyr. I wou’d not ha’ ye relate all my Acts at this time.
Art. Really, Sir, ’tis impossible to innumerate all your noble Acts that I have been Spectator of.—— [Aside.] ’Tis this Belly of mine creates me all this Plagues. My Ears must bear this Burden, for fear my Teeth shou’d want Work; and to every Lye he tells, I must swear to.
Pyr. What was I going to say?———
Art. O, Sir, I know your meaning.—— ’Twas a noble Exploit; I remember’t very well.
Pyr. What was’t?
Art. Whatever you perform’d, was so.
Pyr. Ha’ ye a Table-Book here?
Art. D’ye want one, Sir?—— Here’s a Pencil too.
Pyr. Thou’st ingeniously accommodated thy Sentiments to mine.
Art. O, ’tis my Duty to adapt my Manners to your Nod, and always keep ’em within the compass of your Commands.
Pyr. Well, how many can you remember?
Art. I remember a hundred and fifty Cilicians, a hundred Sycolatronideans, thirty Sardeans, and threescore Macedonians, you slew in one day.
Pyr. And how many are there in all?
Art. Seven thousand.
Pyr. That’s right. You’re an excellent Arithmetician.
Art. I have ’em in capite, tho’ not in black and white.
Pyr. Truly, a prodigious Memory!
Art. That’s owing to your Table.
Pyr. As long as you proclaim my Honour, you shall never want eating: my Table shall be always free to receive ye.
Art. Then in Cappadocia, Sir, where you wou’d ha’ certainly cut off five hundred Men, had not your Sword been a little blunt; and those but the Relicts of the Infantry you had just defeated,—— [Aside] if there were any such in being.—— But why shou’d I mention these things, when the whole World knows how much the mighty Pyrgopolinices excels the rest of Mortals in Valour, Beauty, and Renown’d Exploits. All the Ladies in Town are ready to run mad for ye; troth, and all the reason i’the World for’t, since you’ve so charming a Countenance. As yesterday, some of ’em catch’d me by the Cloak, and——
Pyr. Prithee, what did they say o’ me? Smiling.
Art. They fell to questioning: Prithee, says one, is n’t this the stout Achillis? His Brother indeed, quoth I. Let me dye, says another, if he be n’t a wonderful handsome Man, how nobly he looks, and how gracefully he wears his Hair! What a prodigious Happiness ’tis to be his Bed-fellow!
Pyr. Said she so, i’ faith? Laughing.
Art. And more than that, begg’d of me, for God’s sake, to get ye to pass that way, that they might see how triumphantly you march’d along.
Pyr. This same extraordinary Beauty brings a Man to extraordinary Inconveniencies.
Art. Well, strangely importunate they were, they nothing but begg’d, pray’d, and conjur’d me to bless ’em with a sight of ye; nay, they sent for me so often, that I was sometimes forc’d to neglect your Business.
Pyr. I think ’tis high time to be marching to the Piazza, and pay off the Soldiers I listed yesterday; for the King was very earnest with me to do him the favour of raising him some new Levies. This day have I appointed to pay him a Visit.
Art. Let’s be marching then.
Pyr. Guards, follow your Leader.
Exeunt omnes.
I need not make many Reflections upon this Scene; but for the clearer perceiving of it, let us bring it to the Touch-stone of Nature, that is, compare it with Terence, and shew how modestly he has manag’d the same Subject and Characters, to wit, his Thraso and Gnatho, in the beginning of the third Act of his Eunuch.
Thraso and Gnatho.
Thra. Was the Lady so extremely thankful?
Gna. O, vastly, Sir.
Thra. And wonderfully pleas’d, say ye?
Gna. Really, Sir, not so much for the present as the honorable Person who bestow’d it; and for that, Sir, she triumphs above measure.
Thra. Truly, ’tis my peculiar Fortune, to have every thing I do most gratefully receiv’d.
Gna. Faith, Sir, I’ve observ’d as much.
Thra. Why the King of Persia, whenever I did him a Kindness, was extremely sensible of it: He was n’t so to others.
Gna. A smart Tongue so well hung as yours, Sir, can obtain that Glory with Ease which cost others so much Toil and Labour.
Thra. Right.
Gna. The Monarch has you in his Eye then?
Thra. Right again.
Gna. And wears you next his heart?
Thra. Very true: And trusts all his Army and Secrets to my Discretion.
Gna. Prodigious!
Thra. Then if he happen’d to be tir’d with Company, or fateagu’d with Business, and was desirous of Ease,—— as tho’,—— you know what I mean.
Gna. Yes, Sir:——— As tho, when he had a mind to clear his Stomach, as a Man may say, of all Concerns,———
Thra. Right: Then was I his only Companion hand to fist.
Gna. Ay marry Sir! This is a Monarch indeed.
Thra. Oh! he’s a Man of a thousand.
Gna. Yes, one of a million, if he chose you for his Companion.
Thra. All the Officers envy’d me, and grumbl’d at me behind my back; but I valued it not: They envy’d me intolerably: But above all, one who had the Charge o’ the vast Indian Elephants. One day, this Fellow being more turbulent than the rest, I snap’d him up; Prithee Strato, said I, why art thou so fierce? Is’t because you’re Lord o’ the wild beasts?
Gna. Neatly said, as I hope to live; and shrewdly. Bless me! you overthrow Man and Beast.—— What said he, Sir?
Thra. Not a word.
Gna. Nay, I can’t tell how he shou’d.
Thra. But, Gnatho, did I never tell you how sharp I was upon a young Rhodian Spark at a Feast?
Gna. Never, Sir; let’s hear’t, by all means.— He has told it me a thousand times. Aside.
Thra. Why this Rhodian Spark I told ye of, was with me at a Feast, where I happen’d to have a small Girl: This Stripling began to be sweet upon her, and waggish upon me too. How now, you impudent Saucebox, said I; you’re Man’s meat your self, and yet have a mind to a Tid-bit.
Gna. Ha, ha, he.
Thra. What’s the matter, hah?
Gna. Very fine, sharp, and delicate; that cou’d not be mended. But pray, Sir, was this your own? I took it for an old Jest.
Thra. Did you ever hear’t before?
Gna. Often, Sir; and it takes to a miracle.
Thra. They’re oblig’d to me for’t.
Gna. I’m sorry tho’, you were so sharp upon the foolish young Gentleman. But pray, Sir, what did he say then?
Thra. He was quite dash’d out of Countenance; and the whole Company ready to dye with laughing. After that, every body stood in great awe of me.
Gna. And truly they had reason.
Here may be seen Bragging and Wheadling sufficiently, but still Nature closely observ’d, and all its due proportions; whereas the other has too much out-gone Probability, and strain’d his Characters to an extravagant pitch. I shall not criticise upon the
Particulars, but leave the Reader to judge their Differences; but only I may observe, that when Characters are carry’d too high, as many of ours are, they may probably make an Audience laugh very heartily, but can give ’em but small Pleasure; whereas others will give ’em great Delight, tho’ less Laughter.
I am afraid I have dwelt too long upon this Subject, therefore I pass on to our Author’s Plots. In that respect, he had not often that Art and Management that Terence had, nor in all his Plays was so regular as he; tho’ in several he was, particularly in those I have chosen. But then his Scenes were commonly less languishing, his Incidents more surprizing, and his Surprizes more admirable; undoubtedly he had more of the Vis comica, which I may translate Liveliness of Intreague, than Terence. His Subjects were all more Simple than the other’s, but I am apt to believe, that will be reckon’d but a very small Commendation in our Nation, who are but little Lovers of such thin Dyet, as they call it. His Narrations are more lively and sharp than those of Terence’s, and, I think, every whit as natural and as well brought in: I’m sure in some of ’em he can never be out-done as to his way of bringing of ’em in. As for the General Rules of the Stage, I refer the Reader to the Preface to Terence.
Our Author’s principal Fault was, his mixing the Representation with the Theatral Action in many places, where he often makes his Actors speak immediately and directly to the Spectators; a Fault that Terence was not wholly free from. This our
modern Plays, I think, are never guilty of; only in our Monologues and Asides, our Actors have got a custom of looking so full upon the Spectators, that it seems but one degree better. But our Author is not guilty of this in these three Plays, except in Amphitryon, and that by way of Prologue, or of any other Faults but what, I believe, I have shewn in my Remarks. And these that I have here chosen, are no ways inferior to Terence’s in matters of Plot and Intreague, but in some respects superior, tho’ not so elaborately wrought up, or always with that Niceness; so that these may undoubtedly prove excellent Models for our Poets Imitation, provided they observe Differences of Tastes, Humours, Ages, and Persons, and keep to those principal Beauties they already possess, some of which are undoubtedly above the Ancients. Only Terence will teach ’em one thing that Plautus does not, to wit, the great Cunning of working in Under-Plots, and still preserving the Unity of Action; for Plautus has none of them. As for the Necessity of Rules, the Objections against ’em, and the wonderful Perfection our Plays might arrive to by a more close Observance of ’em, I must once more refer my Reader to the Preface to Terence. It was principally upon the Poets Account, and for all such as are desirous of understanding and judging the Excellencies of Dramatick Poetry, that I translated these Plays. If it be objected, that the Poets, Criticks, and Lovers, as well as Judges of Dramatick Poetry, do most of ’em understand the Original; I must deny the Truth of it, tho’ several of ’em do: But if they did, these will be much more proper for their
Design, especially by means of the Notes and Remarks; and the Reasons I urg’d for the translation of Terence, bear a greater force in this Author, for here is a greater Obscurity, by reason of corrupted Copies, wrong Points, false Divisions of whole Acts as well as Scenes, besides a greater number of knotty and obscure Passages, than in Terence.
Tho’ this was my principal, it was not my only Design of translating this Author, for I had all the way an Eye to School boys, and Learners of the Latin Tongue: Therefore, upon that account, I have not only kept perfectly close to his Sence, but almost always to his Words too; a thing not only extream difficult in an Author so frequently verbose, but oftentimes dangerous too: And for an Instance, I need not go any further than the very first Sentence of the Prologue to Amphitryon, which if I had made shorter, I cou’d have made better. I can’t forbear mentioning a Passage in the third Act of the same Play, which just now comes to my remembrance:
Nam certo si sis sanus, aut sapias satis,
Quam tu impudicam esse arbitrare, & prædicas,
Cum ea tu sermonem nec joco, nec serio
Tibi habeas, nisi sis stultior stultissimo.
Which I have translated, perhaps, too closely thus; I’m sure, had ye either Wit, or Discretion, or weren’t the greatest Fool in Nature, you’d ne’er hold Discourse, either in Mirth or Earnest, with the Woman you believe and declare a Strumpet. I’m confident many other Translators wou’d not have been
so scrupulously nice, but have made shorter work of it. But I have not only been so scrupulous in this Case, but I have likewise imitated all his Faults and Imperfections, whenever I cou’d do it without extream Injury to the Translation; I speak of his Puns, Quibbles, Rhimes, Gingles, and his several ways of playing upon words; which indeed were the Faults of his Age, as it was of ours in Shakespear’s and Johnson’s days, and of which Terence, as correct as he is, is not perfectly clear. Our Author’s playing upon words are of that various nature, and so frequent too, I need not go far for a single Instance, which shall be in the fore part of the Prologue to Amphitryon:
Justam rem & facilem esse oratum à vobis volo.
Nam juste ab justis sum orator datus.
Nam injusta ab justis impetrare non decet:
Justa autem ab injustis petere, insipientia ’st:
Quippe illi iniqui jus ignorant, neque tenent.
Which I have translated thus: I desire nothing but what’s reasonable, and feasible; for ’tis a reasonable God requires Reason from a reasonable People; but to require Roguery from reasonable People, is base; and to expect Reason from Rascals, is nonsence; since such People neither know Reason nor observe it. Our Author’s Wit did many times consist in his playing upon Words; a great pity indeed, for a person who was so well able to writ after a more substantial way, of which we have many remarkable Instances. Besides his Quibbling, partly from his Carelesness and Necessities, he hath sometimes a vein of Trifling, which was but very indifferent;
and on those places the Reader must make some allowance for the translation, and not expect more than the Matter will well bear. As for our Author’s Jests and Repartees, for what we know of ’em, I took a particular care in preserving their Force; and for the most part, I presume, I have done it in a great measure, sometimes by a lucky hit; or a peculiar happiness of our Tongue, other times by a little Liberty taken, and when all have fail’d, the Remarks have generally supply’d the Defect, a way I was forc’d to content my self withal in many places; the worse they were, they were frequently more difficult to preserve, therefore I thought it as well to slur over some few of the meaner sort. Several of his Jests and bits of Satyr are undoubtedly lost to us, not only in respect of our Language, but also our Knowledge, and this sometimes makes his Sence a little obscure. And as the Sence of an Author ought to be his Translator’s chiefest Care, so it has been mine; and tho’ I cannot affirm, that I have kept to it in every passage, yet I believe I have often done it where a common Reader will think I have not; and I think it no commendation to my self to say I have hit it on many places where the Common Interpreters have missed.
After all, I dare not pretend to say, that this Translation equals the Original, for there is such a peculiar Air in this Author as well as Terence, that our Tongue seems uncapable of, or at least it does so to me. Yet still if ’twere always read with the Original, it wou’d make far more for me than otherwise. In short, the Reader ought to look upon this as a Translation of an Author who had several Faults, and
such places, as the English must of necessity appear mean, being little better in the Original; and likewise as an Author of Antiquity, some of whose Customs and Manners will appear a little uncouth and unsightly, in spight of all a Translator’s Care. I endeavour’d to be as like my Author as I cou’d, especially in that which I reckon his distinguishing Character, to wit, the natural and unaffected easiness of his Stile, and as this seems the most capable of imitation, so I believe I have been more successful in this Particular than in any other: and that is the main Reason I have had so many Abbreviations, to make it appear still more like common Discourse, and the usual way of speaking. Perhaps I may be thought to have been too bold in that point, because I have had some that are not usual in Prose; therefore I don’t set this way as a Copy for any one to follow me in, nor shall I use it myself in any other Piece. I have all the way divided the Acts and Scenes according to the true Rules of the Stage, which are extreamly false in all the Editions of this Author, especially the Scenes.
To make this Translation the most useful that I cou’d, I have made Remarks upon each Play, and those are of two sorts, tho’ equally intermix’d: The first, to shew the Author’s chief Excellencies as to his Contrivance and Management of his Plots and Incidents; the second, to discover several Beauties of Stile and Wit, principally such as are not very clear, or cannot well be preserv’d in our Tongue; and those are likewise to vindicate my Translation. Several of these I must own my self oblig’d to Madam
Dacier for, or at least the hint, tho’ some of ’em I cou’d not have miss’d of in the prosecution of those Designs I aim’d at. I have borrow’d little or nothing from any other, for her’s are far the best Notes I ever met with, tho’ many of ’em were done more to shew her Parts and Reading than for any real use, a thing which I shall never aim at. I have been forc’d in most of ’em to be extream nice and curious in penetrating into the bottom of the Author, for I find it far more difficult to discover a Beauty than a Fault. I might have enlarg’d upon ’em, and have made several more, with good grounds, but I thought it dangerous to say all that cou’d be said; but instead of that I was forc’d, much against my will, to dash out several of those upon Amphitryon upon the account of the Printer, but the rest are more full and compleat.
If business wou’d have permitted me, I shou’d have ventur’d upon three more of our Authors Plays; and upon that Account, I have taken somewhat less time than was necessary for the translating such an extraordinary difficult Author; for this requires more than double the time of a Historian or the like, which was as much as I cou’d allow my self. I made choice of these three Plays as well for their Modesty as Regularity, for above all things I wou’d by no means give the least Encouragement to Lewdness or Obscenity, which grow too fast of themselves; and therefore I thought I cou’d not chuse better than after a Lady. Amphitryon had the Name, and never fail’d of a general Approbation; Epidicus was our Author’s Favourite, and truly there is much Art in it, tho’ it
is a little heavy; and Rudens is in several respects a better Play than any of Plautus’s or Terence’s. I’m afraid Amphitryon will bear the worse in our Tongue, upon the Account of Mr. Dryden’s, whose Improvements are very extraordinary; but considering Mr. Dryden’s Management is of such a different Nature, this will still be as useful and as proper for my Design, or at least to School-boys and Learners. I must do that great Man the Justice in saying, that he has not only much improved the Humour, Wit, and Design in many places, but likewise the Thoughts. I’ll mention one, which just now comes into my mind. Alcmena in the Second Act complains thus: How poor and short are this Life’s Pleasures, if once compar’d with the Sorrows we endure? ’Tis Man’s Destiny, and Heaven’s Pleasure, to mix our Joys with bitter Potions; and for some few Hours of Satisfaction, we meet with Ages of Ills and Troubles. Mr. Dryden, by the help of Blank Verse, and a little more room, has better’d it extreamly.
Ye niggard Gods! you make our Lives too long:
You fill ’em with Diseases, Wants, and Woes,
And only dash ’em with a little Love;
Sprinkled by Fits, and with a sparing Hand.
Count all our Joys, from Childhood ev’n to Age,
They wou’d but make a Day of ev’ry Year:
And to carry it on further yet, and to make it appear more fine and clear, he says,
Take back your Sev’nty Years, (the stint of Life)
Or else be kind, and cram the Quintessence
Of Sev’nty Years into sweet Sev’nty Days:
For all the rest is flat, insipid Being.
I mention this the rather, because it may serve for one Instance of what Improvements our Modern Poets have made on the Ancients, when they built upon their Foundations. For we find that many of the fine things of the Ancients are like Seeds, that, when planted on English Ground by a Skilful Poet’s Hand, thrive, and produce excellent Fruit.
But I’m afraid this Preface has been too long and tedious for this small Piece; but the Press stays, and the hast I’m in will not permit me to make it shorter, or so much as review it; yet before I conclude, I must inform the Reader, that I had the Advantage of another’s doing their Plays before me; from whose Translation I had very considerable Helps, especially in the Jests and Quibbles.
[ The Augustan Reprint Society]
WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK
MEMORIAL LIBRARY
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, LOS ANGELES
PUBLICATIONS IN PRINT
When available, Project Gutenberg e-text numbers are included as links.
1948-1949
[16.] Henry Nevil Payne, The Fatal Jealousie (1673).
[18.] Anonymous, “Of Genius,” in The Occasional Paper, Vol. III, No. 10 (1719), and Aaron Hill, Preface to The Creation (1720).
1949-1950
[19.] Susanna Centlivre, The Busie Body (1709).
[20.] Lewis Theobald, Preface to the Works of Shakespeare (1734).
[22.] Samuel Johnson, The Vanity of Human Wishes (1749), and two Rambler papers (1750).
[23.] John Dryden, His Majesties Declaration Defended (1681).
1950-1951
[26.] Charles Macklin, The Man of the World (1792).
1951-1952
[31.] Thomas Gray, An Elegy Wrote in a Country Churchyard (1751), and The Eton College Manuscript.
1952-1953
[41.] Bernard Mandeville, A Letter to Dion (1732).
1962-1963
98. Select Hymns Taken Out of Mr. Herbert’s Temple (1697).
1963-1964
104. Thomas D’Urfey, Wonders in the Sun: or, The Kingdom of the Birds (1706).
1964-1965
110. John Tutchin, Selected Poems (1685-1700).
111. Anonymous, Political Justice (1736).
112. Robert Dodsley, An Essay on Fable (1764).
113. T. R., An Essay Concerning Critical and Curious Learning (1698).
[114.] Two Poems Against Pope: Leonard Welsted, One Epistle to Mr. A. Pope (1730), and Anonymous, The Blatant Beast (1742).
1965-1966
115. Daniel Defoe and others, Accounts of the Apparition of Mrs. Veal.
116. Charles Macklin, The Covent Garden Theatre (1752).
117. Sir Roger L’Estrange, Citt and Bumpkin (1680).
118. Henry More, Enthusiasmus Triumphatus (1662).
119. Thomas Traherne, Meditations on the Six Days of the Creation (1717).
120. Bernard Mandeville, Aesop Dress’d or a Collection of Fables (1704).
1966-1967
[122.] James MacPherson, Fragments of Ancient Poetry (1760).
[123.] Edmond Malone, Cursory Observations on the Poems Attributed to Mr. Thomas Rowley (1782).
124. Anonymous, The Female Wits (1704).
125. Anonymous, The Scribleriad (1742). Lord Hervey, The Difference Between Verbal and Practical Virtue (1742).
126. Le Lutrin: an Heroick Poem, Written Originally in French by Monsieur Boileau: Made English by N. O. (1682).
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