Yet must I not give nature all: thy art,
My gentle Shakespeare, must enjoy a part.
For though the poet's matter nature be,
His art doth give the fashion; and that he
Who casts to write a living line, must sweat,
(Such as thine are) and strike the second heat
Upon the Muses' anvil; turn the same,

And himself with it, that he thinks to fame:

Or for the laurel he may gain a scorn;

For a good poet's made as well as born.

And such wert thou! Look how the father's face
Lives in his issue: even so the race

Of Shakespeare's mind and manners brightly shines

In his well turnèd and true filèd lines;

In each of which he seems to shake a lance,

As brandished at the eyes of ignorance.

Sweet Swan of Avon! what a sight it were

To see thee in our water yet appear,

And make those flights upon the banks of Thames
That so did take Eliza, and our James!

But stay: I see thee in the hemisphere

Advanced, and made a constellation there!

Shine forth, thou Star of poets, and with rage

Or influence, chide or cheer the drooping stage;

Which, since thy flight from hence, hath mourned like

night,

And despairs day, but for thy volume's light.

FROM SEJANUS'

Scene: The Garden of Eudemus in Rome. Enter Sejanus, Livia, and

Eudemus.

EJANUS — Physician, thou art worthy of a province

SE

Livia

For the great favors done unto our loves;

And but that greatest Livia bears a part

In the requital of thy services,

I should alone despair of aught like means
To give them worthy satisfaction.

Eudemus, I will see it, shall receive

A fit and full reward for his large merit.

But for this potion we intend to Drusus, —

No more our husband now,-whom shall we choose

Livia
Eudemus
Sejanus

I say, Lydgus.

An eunuch Drusus loves.

Ay, and his cup-bearer.

Send him to me; I'll work him.-Royal lady,
Though I have loved you long, and with that height
Of zeal and duty, like the fire, which more

It mounts it trembles, thinking naught could add
Unto the fervor which your eye had kindled,—
Yet now I see your wisdom, judgment, strength,
Quickness and will to apprehend the means
To your own good and greatness, I protest
Myself through rarefied and turned all flame
In your affection: such a spirit as yours
Was not created for the idle second

To a poor flash, as Drusus; but to shine
Bright as the moon among the lesser lights,
And share the sovereignty of all the world.
Then Livia triumphs in her proper sphere,
When she and her Sejanus shall divide
The name of Cæsar, and Augusta's star
Be dimmed with glory of a brighter beam;
When Agrippina's fires are quite extinct,
And the scarce-seen Tiberius borrows all
His little light from us, whose folded arms
Shall make one perfect orb.

Eudemus - One of your Lordship's servants brings you word

The Emperor hath sent for you.

Sejanus

Eudemus

Livia

Eudemus

Oh, where is he?

[Exit.

With your fair leave, dear princess, I'll but ask
A question, and return.

Fortunate princess!

How are you blest in the fruition

Of this unequaled man, the soul of Rome,

The Empire's life, and voice of Cæsar's world!
So blessed, my Eudemus, as to know

The bliss I have, with what I ought to owe

The means that wrought it.

Excellent clear, believe it.
Was well laid on.

How do I look to-day? This same fucus

Livia
Eudemus- Lend me your scarlet, lady.

Methinks

'tis here not white.
'Tis the sun

Hath given some little taint unto the ceruse;

You should have used of the white oil I gave you.
Sejanus, for your love! his very name

Commandeth above Cupid or his shafts

[Paints her cheek.]

Livia-
Eudemus

Nay, now you've made it worse.

I'll help it straight

And but pronounced, is a sufficient charm
Against all rumor; and of absolute power
To satisfy for any lady's honor.
What do you now, Eudemus?

Make a light fucus,
To touch you o'er withal. Honored Sejanus!
What act, though ne'er so strange and insolent,
But that addition will at least bear out,

If't do not expiate?

Here, good physician.

I like this study to preserve the love

Of such a man, that comes not every hour

To greet the world.-'Tis now well, lady, you should

Use of this dentifrice I prescribed you too,

To clear your teeth; and the prepared pomatum,

To smooth the skin. A lady cannot be

Too curious of her form, that still would hold
The heart of such a person, made her captive,
As you have his; who, to endear him more
In your clear eye, hath put away his wife,
The trouble of his bed, and your delights,
Fair Apicata, and made spacious room
To your new pleasures.

Livia

Eudemus

Sejanus

Livia

Sejanus

Have not we returned
That with our hate to Drusus, and discovery
Of all his counsels?

Yes, and wisely, lady.

The ages that succeed, and stand far off

To gaze at your high prudence, shall admire,
And reckon it an act without your sex:

It hath that rare appearance. Some will think
Your fortune could not yield a deeper sound
Than mixed with Drusus; but when they shall hear
That and the thunder of Sejanus meet,-

Sejanus, whose high name doth strike the stars,
And rings about the concave; great Sejanus,

Whose glories, style, and titles are himself,

The often iterating of Sejanus,

They then will lose their thoughts, and be ashamed
To take acquaintance of them.

Re-enter Sejanus

I must take

A rude departure, lady: Cæsar sends
With all his haste both of command and prayer.
Be resolute in our plot: you have my soul,

As certain yours as it is my body's.

And, wise physician, so prepare the poison,

As you may lay the subtle operation

Upon some natural disease of his;

Your eunuch send to me. I kiss your hands,
Glory of ladies, and commend my love

To your best faith and memory.

My lord,

I shall but change your words. Farewell. Yet this
Remember for your heed: he loves you not;
You know what I have told you; his designs
Are full of grudge and danger; we must use
More than a common speed.

How you do fire my blood!

Livia

Excellent lady,

Well, you must go?
The thoughts be best, are least set forth to show.
[Exit Sejanus.

Eudemus-When will you take some physic, lady?
Livia -

I shall, Eudemus: but let Drusus's drug
Be first prepared.

When

D

SOLILOQUY OF SEJANUS

ULL, heavy Cæsar!

Wouldst thou tell me thy favors were made crimes,
And that my fortunes were esteemed thy faults,
That thou for me wert hated, and not think

I would with wingèd haste prevent that change
When thou mightest win all to thyself again
By forfeiture of me? Did those fond words
Fly swifter from thy lips, than this my brain,

This sparkling forge, created me an armor

T'encounter chance and thee? Well, read my charms,

And may they lay that hold upon thy senses,

As thou hadst snuffed up hemlock, or ta'en down

The juice of poppy and of mandrakes. Sleep,

Voluptuous Cæsar, and security

Seize on thy stupid powers, and leave them dead
To public cares.

FROM THE SILENT WOMAN'

Scene: A Room in Morose's House. Enter Morose, with a tube in his hand, followed by Mute.

M

OROSE

Cannot I yet find out a more compendious method than by this trunk, to save my servants the labor of speech, and mine ears the discords of sounds? Let me see: all discourses but my own afflict me; they seem harsh, impertinent, and irksome. Is it not possible that thou shouldst answer me by signs, and I apprehend thee, fellow? Speak not, though I question you. You have taken the ring off from the street door, as I bade you? Answer me not by speech, but by silence; unless it be otherwise. [Mute makes a leg.] Very good. And you have fastened on a thick quilt or flock bed on the outside of the door: that if they knock with their daggers or with brickbats, they can make no noise?-But with your leg, your answer, unless it be otherwise. [Mute makes a leg.] Very good. This is not only fit modesty in a servant, but good state and discretion in a master. And you have been with Cutbeard the barber, to have him come to me? [Mute makes a leg.] Good. And he will come presently? Answer me not but with your leg, unless it be otherwise: if it be otherwise, shake your head

XIV-523