De ne vous séparer jamais de Glicérie.
Elle prit nos deux mains, et les mit dans la sienne:
Que dans cette union l’amour vous entretienne;
C’est tout.—Elle expira dans le même moment.
Je l’ai promis, Misis, je tiendrai mon serment.”
Andrienne, A. I. S. VII.
[NOTE 102.]
And why has Chremes changed his mind.
“Id mutavit, quoniam me IMMUTATUM videt.”
The verb immutare in other Latin authors, and even in other parts of Terence himself, signifies to change; as in the Phormio, Antipho says, Non possum immutarier. I cannot be changed. But here, the sense absolutely requires that immutatum should be rendered not changed. Madame Dacier endeavours to reconcile this, according to a conjecture of her father’s, by shewing that immutatum stands for immutabilis, as immotus for immobilis, invictus for invincibilis, &c. But these examples do not remove the difficulty; since those participles always bear a negative sense, which immutatus does not: and thence arises all the difficulty. Terence certainly uses the verb immutare both negatively and positively, as is plain from this passage, and the above passage in the Phormio: and I dare say, with strict propriety. In our own language, we have instances of the same word bearing two senses, directly opposite to each other. The word let, for instance, is used in the contradictory meanings of permission and prohibition. The modern acceptation of the word is indeed almost entirely confined to the first sense; though we say, even at this day, without let or molestation. Shakspeare, in Hamlet, says,
‘I’ll make a ghost of him that lets me;’
“That is, stops, prevents, hinders me, which is directly opposite to the modern use of the word.”—Colman.