SCENE II.-A Room in Lupus's House.Enter Lupus, HISTRIO, and Lictors.
Tuc. Do, do: stay, there's a drachm to purchase ginger-bread forthy muse.Lup. Come, let us talk here; here we may be private; shut the door,lictor. You are a player, you say.Hist. Ay, an't please your worship.Lup. Good; and how are you able to give this intelligence?Hist. Marry, sir, they directed a letter to me and my fellow—sharers.Lup. Speak lower, you are not now in your theatre, stager:—mysword, knave. They directed a letter to you, and yourfellow-sharers: forward.Hist. Yes, sir, to hire some of our properties; as a sceptre andcrown for Jove; and a caduceus for Mercury; and a petasus—[Reenter Lictor.Lup. Caduceus and petasus! let me see your letter. This is aconjuration: a conspiracy, this. Quickly, on with my buskins: I'llact a tragedy, i'faith. Will nothing but our gods serve these poetsto profane? dispatch! Player, I thank thee. The emperor shall takeknowledge of thy good service. [A knocking within.] Who's therenow? Look, knave. [Exit Lictor.] A crown and a sceptre! this isgood rebellion, now.Lic. 'Tis your pothecary, sir, master Minos.Lup. What tell'st thou me of pothecaries, knave! Tell him, I haveaffairs of state in hand; I can talk to no apothecaries now. Heartof me! Stay the pothecary there. [Walks in a musing posture.] Youshall see, I have fish'd out a cunning piece of plot now: they havehad some intelligence, that their project is discover'd, and nowhave they dealt with my apothecary, to poison me; 'tis so; knowingthat I meant to take physic to-day: as sure as death, 'tis there.Jupiter, I thank thee, that thou hast. yet made me so much of apolitician.[Enter Minos.You are welcome, sir; take the potion from him there; I have anantidote more than you wot of, sir; throw it on the ground there:so! Now fetch in the dog; and yet we cannot tarry to tryexperiments now: arrest him; you shall go with me, sir; I'll tickleyou, pothecary; I'll give you a glister, i'faith. Have I theletter? ay, 'tis here.—Come, your fasces, lictors: the half pikesand the Halberds, take them down from the Lares there. Player,assist me.[As they are going out, enter MECAENAS and HORACE.Mec. Whither now, Asinius Lupus, with this armory?Lup. I cannot talk now; I charge you assist me: treason! treason!Hor. How! treason?Lup. Ay: if you love the emperor, and the state, follow me.[Exeunt.
SCENE III.-An Apartment in the Palace.
Enter OVID, JULIA, GALLUS, CYTHERIS, TIBULLUS, PLAUTIA,ALBIUS, CHLOE, TUCCA, CRISPINUS, HERMOGENES, PYRGUS,characteristically habited, as gods and goddesses.Ovid. Gods and goddesses, take your several seats. Now, Mercury,move your caduceus, and, in Jupiter's name, command silence.Cris. In the name of Jupiter, silence.Her. The crier of the court hath too clarified a voice.Gal. Peace, Momus.Ovid. Oh, he is the god of reprehension; let him alone: 'tis hisoffice. Mercury, go forward, and proclaim, after Phoebus, our highpleasure, to all the deities that shall partake this high banquet.Cris. Yes, sir.Gal. The great god, Jupiter,—[Here, and at every break in theline, Crispinus repeats aloud the words of Gallus.]—Of hislicentious goodness,—Willing to make this feast no fast—From anymanner of pleasure;—Nor to bind any god or goddess—To be anything the more god or goddess, for their names:—He gives them allfree license—To speak no wiser than persons of baser titles;—Andto be nothing better, than common men, or women.—And therefore nogod—Shall need to keep himself more strictly to his goddess—Thanany man does to his wife:—Nor any goddess—Shall need to keepherself more strictly to her god—Than any woman does to herhusband.—But, since it is no part of wisdom,—In these days, tocome into bonds;—It shall be lawful for every lover—To breakloving oaths,—To change their lovers, and make love to others,—Asthe heat of every one's blood,—And the spirit of our nectar, shallinspire.—And Jupiter save Jupiter!Tib. So; now we may play the fools by authority.Her. To play the fool by authority is wisdom.Jul. Away with your mattery sentences, Momus; they are too graveand wise for this meeting.Ovid. Mercury, give our jester a stool, let him sit by; and reachhim one of our cates.Tuc. Dost hear, mad Jupiter? we'll have it enacted, he that speaksthe first wise word, shall be made cuckold. What say'st thou? Is itnot a good motion?Ovid. Deities, are you all agreed?All, Agreed, great Jupiter.Alb. I have read in a book, that to play the fool wisely, is highwisdom.Gal. How now, Vulcan! will you be the first wizard?Ovid. Take his wife, Mars, and make him cuckold quickly.Tuc. Come, cockatrice.Chloe. No, let me alone with him, Jupiter: I'll make you take heed,sir, while you live again; if there be twelve in a company, thatyou be not the wisest of 'em.Alb. No more; I will not indeed, wife, hereafter; I'll be here:mum.Ovid. Fill us a bowl of nectar, Ganymede: we will drink to ourdaughter Venus.Gal. Look to your wife, Vulcan: Jupiter begins to court her.Tib. Nay, let Mars look to it: Vulcan must do as Venus does, bear.Tuc. Sirrah, boy; catamite: Look you play Ganymede well now, youslave. Do not spill your nectar; carry your cup even: so! Youshould have rubbed your face with whites of eggs, you rascal; tillyour brows had shone like our sooty brother's here, as sleek as ahorn-book: or have steept your lips in wine, till you made them soplump, that Juno might have been jealous of them. Punk, kiss me,punk.Ovid. Here, daughter Venus, I drink to thee.Chloe. Thank you, good father Jupiter.Tuc. Why, mother Juno! gods and fiends! what, wilt thou suffer thisocular temptation?Tib. Mars is enraged, he looks big, and begins to stut for anger.Her. Well played, captain Mars.Tuc. Well said, minstrel Momus: I must put you in, must I? whenwill you be in good fooling of yourself, fidler, never?Her. O, 'tis our fashion to be silent, when there is a better foolin place ever.Tuc. Thank you, rascal.Ovid. Fill to our daughter Venus, Ganymede, who fills her fatherwith affection.Jul. Wilt thou be ranging, Jupiter, before my face?Ovid. Why not, Juno? why should Jupiter stand in awe of thy face,Juno?Jul. Because it is thy wife's face, Jupiter.Ovid. What, shall a husband be afraid of his wife's face? will shepaint it so horribly? we are a king, cotquean; and we will reign inour pleasures; and we will cudgel thee to death, if thou find faultwith us.Jul. I will find fault with thee, king cuckold-maker: What, shallthe king of gods turn the king of good-fellows, and have no fellowin wickedness? This makes our poets, that know our profaneness,live as profane as we: By my godhead, Jupiter, 1 will join with allthe other gods here, bind thee hand and foot, throw thee down intothe earth and make a poor poet of thee, if thou abuse me thus.Gal. A good smart-tongued goddess, a right Juno!Ovid. Juno, we will cudgel thee, Juno: we told thee so yesterday,when thou wert jealous of us for Thetis.Pyr. Nay, to-day she had me in inquisition too.Tuc. Well said, my fine Phrygian fry; inform, inform. Give me somewine, king of heralds, I may drink to my cockatrice.Ovid. No more, Ganymede; we will cudgel thee, Juno; by Styx wewill.Jul. Ay, 'tis well; gods may grow impudent in iniquity, and theymust not be told of itOvid. Yea, we will knock our chin against our breast, and shakethee out of Olympus into an oyster-boat, for thy scolding.Jul. Your nose is not long enough to do it, Jupiter, if all thystrumpets thou hast among the stars took thy part. And there isnever a star in thy forehead but shall be a horn, if thou persistto abuse me.Cris. A good jest, i'faith.Ovid. We tell thee thou angerest us, cotquean; and we will thunderthee in pieces for thy cotqueanity.Cris. Another good jest.Alb. O, my hammers and my Cyclops! This boy fills not wine enoughto make us kind enough to one another.Tuc. Nor thou hast not collied thy face enough, stinkard.Alb. I'll ply the table with nectar, and make them friends.Her. Heaven is like to have but a lame skinker, then.Alb. Wine and good livers make true lovers: I'll sentence themtogether. Here, father, here, mother, for shame, drink yourselvesdrunk, and forget this dissension; you two should cling togetherbefore our faces, and give us example of unity.Gal O, excellently spoken, Vulcan, on the sudden!Tib. Jupiter may do well to prefer his tongue to some office forhis eloquence. Tuc. His tongue shall be gentleman-usher to his wit,and still go before it.Alb. An excellent fit office!Cris. Ay, and an excellent good jest besides.Her. What, have you hired Mercury to cry your jests you make?Ovid. Momus, you are envious.Tuc. Why, ay, you whoreson blockhead, 'tis your only block of witin fashion now-a-days, to applaud other folks' jests.Her. True; with those that are not artificers themselves. Vulcan,you nod, and the mirth of the jest droops.Pyr. He has filled nectar so long, till his brain swims in it.Gal. What, do we nod, fellow-gods! Sound music, and let us startleour spirits with a song.Tuc. Do, Apollo, thou art a good musician.Gal. What says Jupiter?Ovid. Ha! ha!Gal. A song.Ovid. Why, do, do, sing.Pla. Bacchus, what say you?Tib. Ceres?Pla. But, to this song?Tib. Sing, for my part.Jul. Your belly weighs down your head, Bacchus; here's a songtoward.Tib. Begin, Vulcan.Alb. What else, what else?Tuc. Say, JupiterOvid. Mercury—-Cris. Ay, say, say.[MusicAlb. Wake! our mirth begins to die;Quicken it with tunes and wine.Raise your notes; you're out; fie, fie!This drowsiness is an ill sign.We banish him the quire of gods,That droops agen:Then all are men,For here's not one but nods.Ovid. I like not this sudden and general heaviness amongstour godheads; 'tis somewhat ominous. Apollo, command uslouder music, and let Mercury and Momus contend to pleaseand revive our senses.[MusicHerm. Then, in a free and lofty strain.Our broken tunes we thus repair;Cris. And we answer them again,Running division on the panting air;Ambo. To celebrate this, feast of sense,As free from scandal as offence.Herm. Here is beauty for the eye,Cris. For the ear sweet melody.Herm. Ambrosiac odours, for the smell,Cris. Delicious nectar, for the taste;Ambo. For the touch, a lady's waist;Which doth all the rest excel.Ovid. Ay, this has waked us. Mercury, our herald; go fromourself, the great god Jupiter, to the great emperor AugustusCaesar, and command him from us, of whose bounty he hathreceived the sirname of Augustus, that, for a thank-offeringto our beneficence, he presently sacrifice, as a dish to thisbanquet, his beautiful and wanton daughter Julia: she's acurst quean, tell him, and plays the scold behind his back;therefore let her be sacrificed. Command him this, Mercury,in our high name of Jupiter Altitonans.Jul. Stay, feather-footed Mercury, and tell Augustus, from us, thegreat Juno Saturnia; if he think it hard to do as Jupiter hathcommanded him, and sacrifice his daughter, that he had better doso ten times, than suffer her to love the well-nosed poet, Ovid;whom he shall do well to whip or cause to be whipped, about thecapitol, for soothing her in her follies.[ Enter AUGUSTUS CAESAR, MECAENAS, HORACE, LUPUS,HISTRIO, MINUS, and Lictors.Caes.What sight is this? Mecaenas! Horace! say?Have we our senses? do we hear and see?Or are these but imaginary objectsDrawn by our phantasy! Why speak you not?Let us do sacrifice. Are they the gods?[Ovid and the rest kneel.Reverence, amaze, and fury fight in me.What, do they kneel! Nay, then I see 'tis trueI thought impossible: O, impious sight!Let me divert mine eyes; the very thoughtEverts my soul with passion: Look not, man,There is a panther, whose unnatural eyesWill strike thee dead: turn, then, and die on herWith her own death.[Offers to kill his daughter.Mec. Hor. What means imperial Caesar?Caes. What would you have me let the strumpet live That, for thispageant, earns so many deaths?Tuc. Boy, slink, boy.[Exeunt Tucca and Pyrgus.Pyr. Pray Jupiter we be not followed by the scent, master.Caes. Say, sir, what are you?Alb. I play Vulcan, sir.Caes. But what are you, sir?Alb. Your citizen and jeweller, sir.Caes. And what are you, dame?Chloe. I play Venus, forsooth.Caes. I ask not what you play, but what you are.Chloe. Your citizen and jeweller's wife, sir.Caes. And you, good sir?[Exit.Caes.O, that profaned name!—-And are these seemly company for thee, [To Julia.Degenerate monster? All the rest I know,And hate all knowledge for their hateful sakes.Are you, that first the deities inspiredWith skill of their high natures and their powers,The first abusers of their useful light;Profaning thus their dignities in their forms,And making them, like you, but counterfeits?O, who shall follow Virtue and embrace her,When her false bosom is found nought but air?And yet of those embraces centaurs spring,That war with human peace, and poison men.—-Who shall, with greater comforts comprehendHer unseen being and her excellence;When you, that teach, and should eternise her,Live as she were no law unto your lives,Nor lived herself, but with your idle breaths?If you think gods but feign'd, and virtue painted,Know we sustain an actual residence,And with the title of an emperor,Retain his spirit and imperial power;By which, in imposition too remiss,Licentious Naso, for thy violent wrong,In soothing the declined affectionsOf our base daughter, we exile thy feetFrom all approach to our imperial court,On pain of death; and thy misgotten loveCommit to patronage of iron doors;Since her soft-hearted sire cannot contain her.Cris. Your gentleman parcel-poet, sir.Mec. O, good my lord, forgive! be like the gods.Hor. Let royal bounty, Caesar, mediate.Caes.There is no bounty to be shew'd to suchAs have no real goodness: bounty isA spice of virtue; and what virtuous actCan take effect on them, that have no powerOf equal habitude to apprehend it,But live in worship of that idol, vice,As if there were no virtue, but in shadeOf strong imagination, merely enforced?This shews their knowledge is mere ignorance,Their far-fetch'd dignity of soul a fancy,And all their square pretext of gravityA mere vain-glory; hence, away with them!I will prefer for knowledge, none but suchAs rule their lives by it, and can becalmAll sea of Humour with the marble tridentOf their strong spirits: others fight belowWith gnats and shadows; others nothing know.[Exeunt.
SCENE V.-A Street before the Palace.Enter TUCCA, CRISPINUS, and PYRGUS.Tuc. What's become of my little punk, Venus, and the poultfootstinkard, her husband, ha?Cris. O; they are rid home in the coach, as fast as the wheels canrun.Tuc. God Jupiter is banished, I hear, and his cockatrice Junolock'd up. 'Heart, an all the poetry in Parnassus get me to be aplayer again, I'll sell 'em my share for a sesterce. But this isHumours, Horace, that goat-footed envious slave; he's turn'd fawnnow; an informer, the rogue! 'tis he has betray'd us all. Did younot see him with the emperor crouching?Cris. Yes.Tuc. Well, follow me. Thou shalt libel, and I'll cudgel the rascal.Boy, provide me a truncheon. Revenge shall gratulate him, tamMarti, quam Mercurio.Pyr. Ay, but master, take heed how you give this out; Horace is aman of the sword.Cris. 'Tis true, in troth; they say he's valiant.[Horace passes over the stage.Tuc. Valiant? so is mine a—. Gods and fiends! I'll blow him intoair when I meet him next: he dares not fight with a puck-fist.Pyr. Master, he comes!Tuc. Where? Jupiter save thee, my good poet, my noble prophet, mylittle fat Horace.—I scorn to beat the rogue in the court; and Isaluted him thus fair, because he should suspect nothing, therascal. Come, we'll go see how far forward our journeyman is towardthe untrussing of him.[Exeunt.
SCENE VI.Enter HORACE, MECAENAS, LUPUS, HISTRIO, and Lictors.Cris. Do you hear, captain? I'll write nothing in it but innocence,because I may swear I am innocent.Hor. Nay, why pursue you not the emperor for your reward now,Lupus?Mec.Stay, Asinius;You and your stager, and your band of lictors:I hope your service merits more respect,Than thus, without a thanks, to be sent hence.His. Well, well, jest on, jest on.Hor. Thou base, unworthy groom!Lup. Ay, ay, 'tis good.Hor.Was this the treason, this the dangerous plot,Thy clamorous tongue so bellow'd through the court?Hadst thou no other project to encreaseThy grace with Caesar, but this wolfish train,To prey upon the life of innocent mirthAnd harmless pleasures, bred of noble wit? Away!I loath thy presence; such as thou,They are the moths and scarabs of a state,The bane of empires, and the dregs of courts;Who, to endear themselves to an employment,Care not whose fame they blast, whose life they endanger;And, under a disguised and cobweb maskOf love unto their sovereign, vomit forthTheir own prodigious malice; and pretendingTo be the props and columns of their safety,The guards unto his person and his peace.Disturb it most, with their false, lapwing-cries.Lup. Good! Caesar shall know of this, believe it!Mec.Caesar doth know it, wolf, and to his knowledge,He will, I hope, reward your base endeavours.Princes that will but hear, or give accessTo such officious spies, can ne'er be safe:They take in poison with an open ear,And, free from danger, become slaves to fear.[Exeunt.
SCENE VII.-An open Space before the Palace.Enter OVID.Banish'd the court! Let me be banish'd life,Since the chief end of life is there concluded:Within the court is all the kingdom bounded,And as her sacred sphere doth comprehendTen thousand times so much, as so much placeIn any part of all the empire else;So every body, moving in her sphere,Contains ten thousand times as much in him,As any other her choice orb excludes.As in a circle, a magician thenIs safe against the spirit he excites;But, out of it, is subject to his rage,And loseth all the virtue of his art:So I, exiled the circle of the court,Lose all the good gifts that in it I 'joy'd.No virtue current is, but with her stamp,And no vice vicious, blanch'd with her white hand.The court's the abstract of all Rome's desert,And my dear Julia the abstract of the court.Methinks, now I come near her, I respireSome air of that late comfort I received;And while the evening, with her modest veil,Gives leave to such poor shadows as myselfTo steal abroad, I, like a heartless ghost,Without the living body of my love,Will here walk and attend her: for I knowNot far from hence she is imprisoned,And hopes, of her strict guardian, to bribeSo much admittance, as to speak to me,And cheer my fainting spirits with her breath.Julia. [appears above at her chamber window.] Ovid? my love?Ovid. Here, heavenly Julia.Jul.Here! and not here! O, how that word doth playWith both our fortunes, differing, like ourselves,Both one; and yet divided, as opposed!I high, thou low: O, this our plight of placeDoubly presents the two lets of our love,Local and ceremonial height, and lowness:Both ways, I am too high, and thou too low,Our minds are even yet; O, why should our bodies,That are their slaves, be so without their rule?I'll cast myself down to thee; if I die,I'll ever live with thee: no height of birth,Of place, of duty, or of cruel power,Shall keep me from thee; should my father lockThis body up within a tomb of brass,Yet I'll be with thee. If the forms I holdNow in my soul, be made one substance with it;That soul immortal, and the same 'tis now;Death cannot raze the affects she now retaineth:And then, may she be any where she will.The souls of parents rule not children's souls,When death sets both in their dissolv'd estates;Then is no child nor father; then eternityFrees all from any temporal respect.I come, my Ovid; take me in thine arms,And let me breathe my soul into thy breast.Ovid.O stay, my love; the hopes thou dost conceiveOf thy quick death, and of thy future life,Are not authentical. Thou choosest death,So thou might'st 'joy thy love in the other life:But know, my princely love, when thou art dead,Thou only must survive in perfect soul;And in the soul are no affections.We pour out our affections with our blood,And, with our blood's affections, fade our loves.No life hath love in such sweet state as this;No essence is so dear to moody senseAs flesh and blood, whose quintessence is sense.Beauty, composed of blood and flesh, moves more,And is more plausible to blood and flesh,Than spiritual beauty can be to the spirit.Such apprehension as we have in dreams,When, sleep, the bond of senses, locks them up,Such shall we have, when death destroys them quite.If love be then thy object, change not life;Live high and happy still: I still below,Close with my fortunes, in thy height shall joy.Jul.Ay me, that virtue, whose brave eagle's wings,With every stroke blow stairs in burning heaven,Should, like a swallow, preying towards storms,Fly close to earth, and with an eager plume,Pursue those objects which none else can see,But seem to all the world the empty air!Thus thou, poor Ovid, and all virtuous men,Must prey, like swallows, on invisible food,Pursuing flies, or nothing: and thus love.And every worldly fancy, is transposedBy worldly tyranny to what plight it list.O father, since thou gav'st me not my mind,Strive not to rule it; take but what thou gav'stTo thy disposure: thy affectionsRule not in me; I must bear all my griefs,Let me use all my pleasures; virtuous loveWas never scandal to a goddess' state.—But he's inflexible! and, my dear love,Thy life may chance be shorten'd by the lengthOf my unwilling speeches to depart.Farewell, sweet life; though thou be yet exiledThe officious court, enjoy me amply still:My soul, in this my breath, enters thine ears,And on this turret's floor Will I lie dead,Till we may meet again: In this proud height,I kneel beneath thee in my prostrate love,And kiss the happy sands that kiss thy feet.Great Jove submits a sceptre to a cell,And lovers, ere they part, will meet in hell.Ovid.Farewell all company, and, if l could,All light with thee! hell's shade should hide my brows,Till thy dear beauty's beams redeem'd my vows.[GoingJul.Ovid, my love; alas! may we not stay.A little longer, think'st thou, undiscern'd?Ovid.For thine own good, fair goddess, do not stay.Who would engage a firmament of firesShining in thee, for me, a falling star?Be gone, sweet life-blood; if I should discernThyself but touch'd for my sake, I should die.Jul.I will begone, then; and not heaven itselfShall draw me back. [Going.Ovid.Yet, Julia, if thou Wilt, A little longer stay.Jul.I am content.Ovid.O, mighty Ovid! what the sway of heavenCould not retire, my breath hath turned back.Jul.Who shall go first, my love? my passionate eyesWill not endure to see thee turn from me.Ovid.If thou go first, my soulWill follow thee.Jul.Then we must stay.Ovid.Ay me, there is no stayIn amorous pleasures; if both stay, both die.I hear thy father; hence, my deity.[Julia retires from the window.Fear forgeth sounds in my deluded ears;I did not hear him; I am mad with love.There is no spirit under heaven, that worksWith such illusion; yet such witchcraft kill me,Ere a sound mind, without it, save my life!Here, on my knees, I worship the blest placeThat held my goddess; and the loving air,That closed her body in his silken arms.Vain Ovid! kneel not to the place, nor air;She's in thy heart; rise then, and worship there.The truest wisdom silly men can have,Is dotage on the follies of their flesh. [Exit.
ACT V SCENE I.-An Apartment in the Palace.Enter CAESAR, MECAENAS, GALLUS, TIBULLUS, HORACE,and Equites Romani.Caes.We, that have conquer'd still, to save the conquer'd,And loved to make inflictions fear'd, not felt;Grieved to reprove, and joyful to reward;More proud of reconcilement than revenge;Resume into the late state of our love,Worthy Cornelius Gallus, and Tibullus:You both are gentlemen: and, you, Cornelius,A soldier of renown, and the first provostThat ever let our Roman eagles flyOn swarthy AEgypt, quarried with her spoils.Yet (not to bear cold forms, nor men's out-terms,Without the inward fires, and lives of men)You both have virtues shining through your shapes;To shew, your titles are not writ on posts,Or hollow statues which the best men are,Without Promethean stuffings reach'd from heaven!Sweet poesy's sacred garlands crown your gentry:Which is, of all the faculties on earth,The most abstract and perfect; if she beTrue-born, and nursed with all the sciences.She can so mould Rome, and her monuments,Within the liquid marble of her lines,That they shall stand fresh and miraculous,Even when they mix with innovating dust;In her sweet streams shall our brave Roman spiritsChase, and swim after death, with their choice deedsShining on their white shoulders; and thereinShall Tyber, and our famous rivers fallWith such attraction, that the ambitious lineOf the round world shall to her centre shrink,To hear their music: and, for these high parts,Caesar shall reverence the Pierian arts.Mec.Your majesty's high grace to poesy,Shall stand 'gainst all the dull detractionsOf leaden souls; who, for the vain assumingsOf some, quite worthless of her sovereign wreaths,Contain her worthiest prophets in contempt.Gal. Happy is Rome of all earth's other states,To have so true and great a president,For her inferior spirits to imitate,As Caesar is; who addeth to the sunInfluence and lustre; in increasing thusHis inspirations, kindling fire in us.Hor.Phoebus himself shall kneel at Caesar's shrine,And deck it with bay garlands dew'd with wine,To quit the worship Caesar does to him:Where other princes, hoisted to their thronesBy Fortune's passionate and disorder'd power,Sit in their height, like clouds before the sun,Hindering his comforts; and, by their excessOf cold in virtue, and cross heat in vice,Thunder and tempest on those learned heads,Whom Caesar with such honour doth advance.Tib.All human business fortune doth commandWithout all order; and with her blind hand,She, blind, bestows blind gifts, that still have nurst,They see not who, nor how, but still, the worst.Caes.Caesar, for his rule, and for so much stuffAs Fortune puts in his hand, shall dispose it,As if his hand had eyes and soul in it,With worth and judgment. Hands, that part with giftsOr will restrain their use, without desert,Or with a misery numb'd to virtue's right,Work, as they had no soul to govern them,And quite reject her; severing their estatesFrom human order. Whosoever can,And will not cherish virtue, is no man.[Enter some of the Equestrian Order.Eques. Virgil is now at hand, imperial Caesar.Caes.Rome's honour is at hand then. Fetch a chair,And set it on our right hand, where 'tis fitRome's honour and our own should ever sit.Now he is come out of Campania,I doubt not he hath finish'd all his AEneids.Which, like another soul, I long to enjoy.What think you three of Virgil, gentlemen,That are of his profession, though rank'd higher;Or, Horace, what say'st thou, that art the poorest,And likeliest to envy, or to detractHor.Caesar speaks after common men in this,To make a difference of me for my poorness;As if the filth of poverty sunk as deepInto a knowing spirit, as the baneOf riches doth into an ignorant soul.No, Caesar, they be pathless, moorish mindsThat being once made rotten with the dungOf damned riches, ever after sinkBeneath the steps of any villainy.But knowledge is the nectar that keeps sweetA perfect soul, even in this grave of sin;And for my soul, it is as free as Caesar's,For what 1 know is due I'll give to all.He that detracts or envies virtuous merit,Is still the covetous and the ignorant spirit.Caes.Thanks, Horace, for thy free and wholesome sharpness,Which pleaseth Caesar more than servile fawns.A flatter'd prince soon turns the prince of fools.And for thy sake, we'll put no difference moreBetween the great and good for being poor.Say then, loved Horace, thy true thought of Virgil.Hor.I judge him of a rectified spirit,By many revolutions of discourse,(In his bright reason's influence,) refinedFrom all the tartarous moods of common men;Bearing the nature and similitudeOf a right heavenly body; most severeIn fashion and collection of himself;And, then, as clear and confident as Jove.Gal.And yet so chaste and tender is his ear,In suffering any syllable to pass,That he thinks may become the honour'd nameOf issue to his so examined self,That all the lasting fruits of his full merit,In his own poems, he doth still distaste;And if his mind's piece, which he strove to paint,Could not with fleshly pencils have her right.Tib.But to approve his works of sovereign worth,This observation, methinks, more than serves,And is not vulgar. That which he hath writIs with such judgment labour'd, and distill'dThrough all the needful uses of our lives,That could a man remember but his lines,He should not touch at any serious point,But he might breathe his spirit out of him.Caes.You mean, he might repeat part of his works,As fit for any conference he can use?Tib. True, royal Caesar.Caes.Worthily observed;And a most worthy virtue in his works.What thinks material Horace of his learning?Hor.His learning savours not the school-like gloss,That most consists in echoing words and terms,And soonest wins a man an empty name;Nor any long or far-fetch'd circumstanceWrapp'd in the curious generalities of arts;But a direct and analytic sumOf all the worth and first effects of arts.And for his poesy, 'tis so ramm'd with life,That it shall gather strength of life, with being,And live hereafter more admired than now.Caes.This one consent in all your dooms of him,And mutual loves of all your several merits,Argues a truth of merit in you all.—-[Enter VIRGIL.See, here comes Virgil; we will rise and greet him.Welcome to Caesar, Virgil! Caesar and VirgilShall differ but in sound; to Caesar, Virgil,Of his expressed greatness, shall be madeA second sirname, and to Virgil, Caesar.Where are thy famous AEneids? do us graceTo let us see, and surfeit on their sight.Virg.Worthless they are of Caesar's gracious eyes,If they were perfect; much more with their wants,Which are yet more than my time could supply.And, could great Caesar's expectationBe satisfied with any other service,I would not shew them.Caes.Virgil is too modest;Or seeks, in vain, to make our longings more:Shew them, sweet Virgil.Virg.Then, in such due fearAs fits presenters of great works to Caesar,I humbly shew them.Caes.Let us now beholdA human soul made visible in life;And more refulgent in a senseless paperThan in the sensual complement of kings.Read, read thyself, dear Virgil; let not meProfane one accent with an untuned tongue:Best matter, badly shewn, shews worse than bad.See then this chair, of purpose set for theeTo read thy poem in; refuse it not.Virtue, without presumption, place may takeAbove best kings, whom only she should make.Virg.It will be thought a thing ridiculousTo present eyes, and to all future timesA gross untruth, that any poet, voidOf birth, or wealth, or temporal dignity,Should, with decorum, transcend Caesar's chair.Poor virtue raised, high birth and wealth set under,Crosseth heaven's courses, and makes worldlings wonder.Caes.The course of heaven, and fate itself, in this,Will Ceasar cross; much more all worldly custom.Hor.Custom, in course of honour, ever errs;And they are best whom fortune least prefers.Caes.Horace hath but more strictly spoke our thoughts.The vast rude swing of general confluenceIs, in particular ends, exempt from sense:And therefore reason (which in right should beThe special rector of all harmony)Shall shew we are a man distinct by it,From those, whom custom rapteth in her press.Ascend then, Virgil; and where first by chanceWe here have turn'd thy book, do thou first read.Virg.Great Caesar hath his will; I will ascend.'Twere simple injury to his free hand,That sweeps the cobwebs from unused virtue,And makes her shine proportion'd to her worth,To be more nice to entertain his grace,Than he is choice, and liberal to afford it.Caes.Gentlemen of our chamber, guard the doors,And let none enter;[Exeunt Equites.]peace. Begin, good Virgil.Virg.Meanwhile the skies 'gan thunder, and in tailOf that, fell pouring storms of sleet and hail:The Tyrian lords and Trojan youth, each whereWith Venus' Dardane nephew, now, in fear,Seek out for several shelter through the plain,Whilst floods come rolling from the hills amain.Dido a cave, the Trojan prince the sameLighted upon. There earth and heaven's great dame,That hath the charge of marriage, first gave signUnto his contract; fire and air did shine,As guilty of the match; and from the hillThe nymphs with shriekings do the region fill.Here first began their bane; this day was groundOf all their ills; for now, nor rumour's sound,Nor nice respect of state, moves Dido ought;Her love no longer now by stealth is sought:She calls this wedlock, and with that fair nameCovers her fault. Forthwith the bruit and fame,Through all the greatest Lybian towns is gone;Fame, a fleet evil, than which is swifter none,That moving grows, and flying gathers strength,Little at first, and fearful; but at lengthShe dares attempt the skies, and stalking proudWith feet on ground, her head doth pierce a cloud!This child, our parent earth, stirr'd up with spiteOf all the gods, brought forth; and, as some write,She was last sister of that giant raceThat thought to scale Jove' s court; right swift of pace,And swifter far of wing; a monster vast,And dreadful. Look, how many plumes are placedOn her huge corps, so many waking eyesStick underneath; and, which may stranger riseIn the report, as many tongues she bears,As many mouths, as many listening ears.Nightly, in midst of all the heaven, she flies,And through the earth's dark shadow shrieking cries,Nor do her eyes once bend to taste sweet sleep;By day on tops of houses she doth keep,Or on high towers; and doth thence affrightCities and towns of most conspicuous site:As covetous she is of tales and lies,As prodigal of truth: this monster—Lup. [within.] Come, follow me, assist me, second me! Where'! theemperor?1 Eques. [within.] Sir, you must pardon us.2 Eques. [within.] Caesar is private now; you may not enter.Tuc. [within.] Not enter! Charge them upon their allegiance,cropshin.1 Eques. [within.] We have a charge to the contrary, sir.Lup. [within.] I pronounce you all traitors, horrible traitors:What! do you know my affairs? I have matter of danger and state toimpart to Caesar.Caes. What noise is there? who's that names Caesar?Lup. [within.] A friend to Caesar. One that, for Caesar's good,would speak with Caesar.Caes. Who is it? look, Cornelius.1 Eques. [within.] Asinius Lupus.Caes.O, bid the turbulent informer hence;We have no vacant ear now, to receiveThe unseason'd fruits of his officious tongue.Mec. You must avoid him there.Lup. [within.] I conjure thee, as thou art. Caesar, or respectestthine own safety, or the safety of the state, Caesar, hear me,speak with me, Caesar; 'tis no common business I come about, butsuch, as being neglected, may concern the life of Caesar.Caes. The life of Caesar! Let him enter. Virgil, keep thy seat.Enter Lupus, Tucca, and Lictors.Eques. [within.] Bear back, there: whither will you? keep back!Tuc. By thy leave, goodman usher: mend thy peruke; so.Lup. Lay hold on Horace there; and on Mecaenas, lictors. Romans,offer no rescue, upon your allegiance: read, royal Caesar. [Gives apaper.] I'll tickle you, Satyr.Tuc. He will, Humours, he will; he will squeeze you, poetpuck-fist.Lup. I'll lop you off for an unprofitable branch, you satiricalvarlet.Tuc. Ay, and Epaminondas your patron here, with his flagon chain;come, resign: [takes off Mecaenas' chain,] though 'twere your greatgrandfather's, the law has made it mine now, sir. Look to him, myparty-coloured rascals; look to him.Caes. What is this, Asinius Lupus? I understand it not.Lup. Not understand it! A libel, Caesar; a dangerous, seditiouslibel; a libel in picture.Caes. A libel!Lup. Ay, I found it in this Horace his study, in Mecaenas hishouse, here; I challenge the penalty of the laws against them.Tuc. Ay, and remember to beg their land betimes; before some ofthese hungry court-hounds scent it out.Caes. Shew it to Horace: ask him if he know it.Lup. Know it! his hand is at it, Caesar.Caes. Then 'tis no libel.Hor. It is the imperfect body of an emblem, Caesar, I began forMecaenas.Lup. An emblem! right: that's Greek for a libel. Do but mark howconfident he is.Hor.A just man cannot fear, thou foolish tribune;Not, though the malice of traducing tongues,The open vastness of a tyrant's ear,The senseless rigour of the wrested laws,Or the red eyes of strain'd authority,Should, in a point, meet all to take his life:His innocence is armour 'gainst all these.Lup. Innocence! O impudence! let me see, let me see! Is not here aneagle! and is not that eagle meant by Caesar, ha? Does not Caesargive the eagle? answer me; what sayest thou?Tuc. Hast thou any evasion, stinkard?Lup. Now he's turn'd dumb. I'll tickle you, Satyr.Hor. Pish: ha, ha!Lup. Dost thou pish me? Give me my long sword.Hor.With reverence to great Caesar, worthy Romans,Observe but this ridiculous commenter;The soul 'to my device was in this distich:Thus oft, the base and ravenous multitudeSurvive, to share the spoils of fortitude.Which in this body I have figured here,A vulture—Lup. A vulture! Ay, now, 'tis a vulture. O abominable! monstrous!monstrous! has not your vulture a beak? has it not legs, andtalons, and wings, and feathers?Tuc. Touch him, old buskins.Hor. And therefore must it be an eagle?Mec. Respect him not, good Horace: say your device.Hor. A vulture and a wolfLup. A wolf! good: that's I; I am the wolf: my name's Lupus; I ammeant by the wolf. On, on; a vulture and a wolfHor. Preying upon the carcass of an ass—Lup. An ass! good still: that's I too; I am the ass. You mean me bythe ass.Mec. Prithee, leave braying then.Hor. If you will needs take it, I cannot with modesty give it fromyou.Mec.But, by that beast, the old EgyptiansWere wont to figure, in their hieroglyphics,Patience, frugality, and fortitude;For none of which we can suspect you, tribune.Caes. Who was it, Lupus, that inform'd you first, This should bemeant by us? Or was't your comment?Lup. No, Caesar; a player gave me the first light of it indeed.Tuc. Ay, an honest sycophant-like slave, and a politician besidesCaes. Where is that player?Tuc. He is without here.Caes. Call him in.Tuc. Call in the player there: master AEsop, call him.Equites. [within.] Player! where is the player? bear back: none butthe player enter.[Enter AESOP, followed by CRISPINUS and DEMETRIUS.Tuc. Yes, this gentleman and his Achates must.Cris. Pray you, master usher:—we'll stand close, here.Tuc. 'Tis a gentleman of quality, this; though he be somewhat outof clothes, I tell ye.—Come, AEsop, hast a bay-leaf in thy mouth?Well said; be not out, stinkard. Thou shalt have a monopoly ofplaying confirm'd to thee, and thy covey, under the emperor's broadseal, for this service.Caes. Is this he?Lup. Ay, Caesar, this is he.Caes.Let him be whipped. Lictors, go take him hence.And, Lupus, for your fierce credulity,One fit him with a pair of larger ears:'Tis Caesar's doom, and must not be revoked.We hate to have our court and peace disturb'dWith these quotidian clamours. See it done.Lup. Caesar! [Exeunt some of the Lictors, with Lupus and AEsopCaes. Gag him, [that] we may have his silence.Virg.Caesar hath done like Caesar. Fair and justIs his award, against these brainless creatures.'Tis not the wholesome sharp morality,Or modest anger of a satiric spirit,That hurts or wounds the body of the state;But the sinister applicationOf the malicious, ignorant, and baseInterpreter; who will distort, and strainThe general scope and purpose of an authorTo his particular and private spleen.Caes.We know it, our dear Virgil, and esteem itA most dishonest practice in that man,Will seem too witty in another's work.What would Cornelius Gallus, and Tibullus?[They whisper Caesar.Tuc. [to Mecaenas.] Nay, but as thou art a man, dost hear! a manof worship and honourable: hold, here, take thy chain again.Resume, mad Mecoenas. What! dost thou think I meant to have keptit, old boy? no: I did it but to fright thee, I, to try how thouwould'st take it. What! will I turn shark upon my friends, or myfriends' friends? I scorn it with my three souls. Come, I lovebully Horace as well as thou dost, I: 'tis an honest hieroglyphic.Give me thy wrist, Helicon. Dost thou think I'll second e'er arhinoceros of them all, against thee, ha? or thy noble Hippocrene,here? I'll turn stager first, and be whipt too: dost thou see,bully?Caes.You have your will of Caesar: use it, Romans.Virgil shall be your praetor: and ourselfWill here sit by, spectator of your sports;And think it no impeach of royalty.Our ear is now too much profaned, grave Maro,With these distastes, to take thy sacred lines;Put up thy book, till both the time and weBe fitted with more hallow'd circumstanceFor the receiving of so divine a work.Proceed with your design.Mec. Gal. Tib. Thanks to great Caesar.Gal. Tibullus, draw you the indictment then, whilst Horace arreststhem on the statute of Calumny. Mecaenas and I will take ourplaces here. Lictors, assist him.Hor. I am the worst accuser under heaven.Gal. Tut, you must do it; 'twill be noble mirth.Hor. I take no knowledge that they do malign me.Tib. Ay, but the world takes knowledge.Hor.Would the world knewHow heartily I wish a fool should hate me!Tuc. Body of Jupiter! what! will they arraign my brisk Poetasterand his poor journeyman, ha? Would I were abroad skeldering for, adrachm, so I were out of this labyrinth again! I do feel myselfturn stinkard already: but I must set the best face I have upon'tnow. [Aside.]—Well said, my divine, deft Horace, bring the whoresondetracting slaves to the bar, do; make them hold up their spreadgolls: I'll give in evidence for thee, if thou wilt. Take courage,Crlspinus; would thy man had a clean band!Cris. What must we do, captain?Tuc. Thou shalt see anon: do not make division with thy legs so.Caes. What's he. Horace?Hor. I only know him for a motion, Caesar.Tuc. I am one of thy commanders, Caesar; a man of service andaction: my name is Pantilius Tucca; I have served in thy warsagainst Mark Antony, I.Caes. Do you know him, Cornelius?Gal. He's one that hath had the mustering, or convoy of a companynow and then: I never noted him by any other employment.Caes. We will observe him better.Tib. Lictor, proclaim silence in the court.Lict. In the name of Caesar, silence!Tib. Let the parties, the accuser and the accused, presentthemselves.Lict. The accuser and the accused, present yourselves in court.Cris. Dem. Here.Virg. Read the indictment.Tib. Rufus Laberius Crispinus, and Demetrius Fannius, hold up yourhands. You are, before this time, jointly and severally indicted,and here presently to be arraigned upon the statute of calumny, orLex Remmia, the one by the name of Rufus Laberius Crispinus, aliasCri-spinus, poetaster and plagiary, the other by the name ofDemetrius Fannius, play-dresser and plagiary. That you (not havingthe fear of Phoebus, or his shafts, before your eyes) contrary tothe peace of our liege lord, Augustus Caesar, his crown anddignity, and against the form of a statute, in that case made andprovided, have moat ignorantly, foolishly, and, more likeyourselves, maliciously, gone about to deprave, and calumniate theperson and writings of Quintus Horatius Flaccus, here present,poet, and priest to the Muses, and to that end have mutuallyconspired and plotted, at sundry times, as by several means, and insundry places, for the better accomplishing your base and enviouspurpose, taxing him falsely, of self-love, arrogancy, impudence,railing, filching by translation, etc. Of all which calumnies, andevery of them, in manner and form aforesaid, what answer you! Areyou guilty, or not guilty?Tuc. Not guilty, say.Cris. Dem. Not guilty.Tib. How will you be tried?[Aside to Crispinus.Tuc. By the Roman Gods, and the noblest Romans.Cris. Dem. By the Roman gods, and the noblest Romans.Virg. Here sits Mecaenas, and Cornelius Gallus, are you contentedto be tried by these?[Aside.Tuc. Ay, so the noble captain may be joined with them incommission, say.Cris. Dem. Ay, so the noble captain may be joinedwith them in commission.Virg. What says the plaintiff?Hor. I am content.Virg. Captain, then take your place.Tuc. alas, my worshipful praetor! 'tis more of thy gentleness thanof my deserving, I wusse. But since it hath pleased the court tomake choice of my wisdom and gravity, come, my calumniousvarlets; let's hear you talk for yourselves, now, an hour or two.What can you say? Make a noise. Act, act!Virg.Stay, turn, and take an oath first. You shall swear,By thunder-darting Jove, the king of gods,And by the genius of Augustus Caesar;By your own white and uncorrupted souls,And the deep reverence of our Roman justice;To judge this case, with truth and equity:As bound by your religion, and your laws.Now read the evidence: but first demandOf either prisoner, if that writ be theirs.[Gives him two papers.Tib. Shew this unto Crispinus. Is it yours?Tuc. Say, ay. [Aside.]—What! dost thou stand upon it, pimp! Do notdeny thine own Minerva, thy Pallas, the issue of thy brain.Oris. Yes it is mine.Tib. Shew that unto Demetrius. Is it yours?Dem. It is.Tuc. There's a father will not deny his own bastard now, I warrantthee.Virg. Read them aloud.Tib.Ramp up my genius, be not retrograde;But boldly nominate a spade a spadeWhat, shall thy lubrical and glibbery museLive, as she were defunct, like punk in stews!Tuc. Excellent!Alas! that were no modern consequence,To have cothurnal buskins frighted hence.No, teach thy Incubus to poetise;And throw abroad thy spurious snotteries,Upon that puft-up lump of balmy froth.Tuc. Ah, Ah!Or clumsy chilblain'd judgment; that with oathMagnificates his merit; and beapawlsThe conscious time, with humorous foam and brawls,As if his organons of sense would crackThe sinews of my patience. Break his back,O poets all and some! for now we listOf strenuous vengeance to clutch the fist.CRISPINUS.Tuc. Ay, marry, this was written like a Hercules in poetry, now.Caes. Excellently well threaten'd!Virg. And as strangely worded, Caesar.Caes. We observe it.Virg. The other now.Tuc. This is a fellow of a good prodigal tongue too, this will dowell.Tib.Our Muse is in mind for th' untrussing a poet,I slip by his name, for most men do know it:A critic, that all the world bescumbersWith satirical humours and lyrical numbers:Tuc. Art thou there, boy?And for the most part, himself doth advanceWith much self-love, and more arrogance.Tuc. Good again!And, but that I would not be thought a prater,I could tell you he were a translator.I know the authors from whence he has stole,And could trace him too, but thatI understand them not full and whole.Tuc. That line is broke loose from all his fellows: chain him upshorter, do.The best note I can give you to know him by,Is, that he keeps gallants' company;Whom I could wish, in time should him fear,Lest after they buy repentance too dear.DEME. FANNIUS.Tuc. Well said! This carries palm with it.Hor.And why, thou motley gull, why should they fear!When hast thou known us wrong or tax a friend?I dare thy malice to betray it. Speak.Now thou curl'st up, thou poor and nasty snake,And shrink'st thy poisonous head into thy bosom:Out, viper! thou that eat'st thy parents, hence!Rather, such speckled creatures, as thyself,Should be eschew'd, and shunn'd; such as will biteAnd gnaw their absent friends, not cure their fame;Catch at the loosest laughters, and affectTo be thought jesters; such as can deviseThings never seen, or head, t'impair men's names,And gratify their credulous adversaries;Will carry tales, do basest offices,Cherish divided fires, and still encreaseNew flames, out of old embers; will revealEach secret that's committed to their trust:These be black slaves; Romans, take heed of these.Tuc. Thou twang'st right, little Horace: they be indeed a couple ofchap-fall'n curs. Come, we of the bench, let's rise to the urn, andcondemn them quickly.Virg.Before you go together, worthy Romans,We are to tender our opinion;And give you those instructions, that may addUnto your even judgment in the cause:Which thus we do commence. First, you must know,That where there is a true and perfect merit,There can be no dejection; and the scornOf humble baseness, oftentimes so worksIn a high soul, upon the grosser spirit,That to his bleared and offended sense,There seems a hideous fault blazed in the object;When only the disease is in his eyes.Here-hence it comes our Horace now stands tax'dOf impudence, self-love, and arrogance,By those who share no merit in themselves;And therefore think his portion is as small.For they, from their own guilt, assure their souls,If they should confidently praise their works,In them it would appear inflation:Which, in a full and well digested man,Cannot receive that foul abusive name,But the fair title of erection.And, for his true use of translating men,It still hath been a work of as much palm,In clearest judgments, as to invent or make,His sharpness,—-that is most excusable;As being forced out of a suffering virtue,Oppressed with the license of the time:—-And howsoever fools or jerking pedants,Players, or suchlike buffoon barking wits,May with their beggarly and barren trashTickle base vulgar ears, in their despite;This, like Jove's thunder, shall their pride control,"The honest satire hath the happiest soul."Now, Romans, you have heard our thoughts;withdraw when you please.Tib. Remove the accused from the bar.Tuc. Who holds the urn to us, ha? Fear nothing, I'll quit you, minehonest pitiful stinkards; I'll do't.Cris. Captain, you shall eternally girt me to you, as I amgenerous.Tuc. Go to.Caes. Tibullus, let there be a case of vizards privately provided;we have found a subject to bestow them on.Tib. It shall be done, Caesar.Caes. Here be words, Horace, able to bastinado a man's ears.Hor. Ay.Please it, great Caesar, I have pills about me,Mixt with the whitest kind of hellebore,Would give him a light vomit, that should purgeHis brain and stomach of those tumorous heats:Might I have leave to minister unto him.Caes.O, be his AEsculapius, gentle Horace!You shall have leave, and he shall be your patient. Virgil,Use your authority, command him forth.Virg.Caesar is careful of your health, Crispinus;And hath himself chose a physicianTo minister unto you: take his pills.Hor.They are somewhat bitter, sir, but very wholesome.Take yet another; so: stand by, they'll work anon.Tib. Romans, return to your several seats: lictors, bring forwardthe urn; and set the accused to the bar.Tuc. Quickly, you whoreson egregious varlets; come forward. What!shall we sit all day upon you? You make no more haste now, than abeggar upon pattens; or a physician to a patient that has no money,you pilchers.Tib. Rufus Laberius Crispinus, and Demetrius Fannius, hold up yourhands. You have, according to the Roman custom, put yourselves upontrial to the urn, for divers and sundry calumnies, whereof youhave, before this time, been indicted, and are now presentlyarraigned: prepare yourselves to hearken to the verdict of yourtryers. Caius Cilnius Mecaenas pronounceth you, by thishand-writing, guilty. Cornelius Gallus, guilty. Pantilius Tucca—Tuc. Parcel-guilty, I.Dem.He means himself; for it was he indeedSuborn'd us to the calumny.Tuc. I, you whoreson cantharides! was it I?Dem. I appeal to your conscience, captain.Tib. Then you confess it now?Dem. I do, and crave the mercy of the court.Tib. What saith Crispinus?Cris. O, the captain, the captain—-Bor. My physic begins to work with my patient, I see.Virg. Captain, stand forth and answer.Tuc. Hold thy peace, poet praetor: I appeal from thee to Caesar, I.Do me right, royal Caesar.Caes.Marry, and I will, sir.—-Lictors, gag him; do.And put a case of vizards o'er his head,That he may look bifronted, as he speaks.Tuc. Gods and fiends! Caesar! thou wilt not, Caesar, wilt thou?Away, you whoreson vultures; away. You think I am a dead corps now,because Caesar is disposed to jest with a man of mark, or so. Holdyour hook'd talons out of my flesh, you inhuman harpies. Go to,do't. What! will the royal Augustus cast away a gentleman ofworship, a captain and a commander, for a couple of condemn'dcaitiff calumnious cargos?Caes. Dispatch, lictors.Tuc. Caesar! [The vizards are put upon him.Caes. Forward, Tibullus.Virg. Demand what cause they had to malign Horace.Dem. In troth, no great cause, not I, I must confess; but that hekept better company, for the most part, than I; and that better menloved him than loved me; and that his writings thrived better thanmine, and were better liked and graced: nothing else.Virg.Thus envious souls repine at others' good.Hor.If this be all, faith, I forgive thee freely.Envy me still, so long as Virgil loves me,Gallus, Tibullus, and the best-best Caesar,My dear Mecaenas; while these, with many more,Whose names I wisely slip, shall think me worthyTheir honour'd and adored society,And read and love, prove and applaud my poems;I would not wish but such as you should spite them.