Or, Horace, what say'st thou, that art the poorest, Hor. Cæsar speaks after common men in this, No, Cæsar; they be pathless moorish minds, But knowledge is the nectar, that keeps sweet 10 Caes. Thanks, Horace, for thy free and wholesome sharpness, Which pleaseth Cæsar more than servile fawns. Say then, loved Horace, thy true thought of Virgil. By many revolutions of discourse, (In his bright reason's influence) refined From all the tartarous moods of common men ; Of a right heavenly body; most severe In 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 name That all the lasting fruits of his full merit As if his mind's piece, which he strove to paint, 20 30 39 Tib. But to approve his works of sovereign worth, This observation (methinks) more than serves, And is not vulgar. That which he hath writ, Is with such judgment labour'd, and distill'd Cas. You mean he might repeat part of his works, As fit for any conference he can use? Tib. True, royal Cæsar. Cas. Worthily observed: And a most worthy virtue in his works. What thinks material Horace of his learning? 10 Hor. His learning savours not the school-like gloss, Nor any long, or far fetch'd circumstance, Of all the worth and first effects of arts. That it shall gather strength of life with being, 20 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. VIRGIL enters. See, here comes Virgil; we will rise and greet him: 30 Vir. Worthless they are of Cæsar's gracious eyes, If they were perfect; much more with their wants, Which yet are more than my time could supply. And could great Cæsar's expectation Be satisfied with any other service, I would not shew them. Cas. Virgil is too modest; Or seeks, in vain, to make our longings more. Shew them, sweet Virgil. Vir. Then, in such due fear 40 As fits presenters of great works to Cæsar, Cæs. Let us now behold A human soul made visible in life: 10 Of birth, or wealth, or temporal dignity), 20 Caes. The course of heaven, and fate itself, in this Will Cæsar 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 confluence Is, in particular ends, exempt from sense: 30 39 Cas. Gentlemen of our chamber, guard the doors, And let none enter; peace. Begin, good Virgil. VIRGIL reads part of his fourth Eneid. Vir. Meanwhile, the skies 'gan thunder, &c. [This Roman Play seems written to confute those enemies of Ben. Jonson in his own days and ours, who have said that he made a pedantical use of his learning. He has here revived the whole court of Augustus, by a learned spell. We are admitted to the society of the illustrious dead. Virgil, Horace, Ovid, Tibullus, converse in our own tongue more finely and poetically than they expressed themselves in their native Latin.Nothing can be imagined more elegant, refined, and court-like than the scenes between this Lewis the Fourteenth of Antiquity and his Literati.-The whole essence and secret of that kind of intercourse is contained therein. The economical liberality by which greatness, seeming to wave some part of its prerogative, takes care to lose none of the essentials; the prudential liberties of an inferior which flatter by commanded boldness and soothe with complimental sincerity.] XXXV. SEJANUS HIS FALL: A TRAGEDY. BY THE SAME. SEJANUS, the morning he is condemned by the Senate, receives some tokens which presage his death. SEJANUS. POMPONIUS. MINUTIUS. TERENTIUS, &c. Ter. Are these things true? Min. Thousands are gazing at it in the streets. Sej. What's that? Ter. Minutius tells us here, my Lord, That a new head being set upon your statue, A rope is since found wreath'd about it! and But now a fiery meteor in the form Of a great ball was seen to roll along The troubled air, where yet it hangs unperfect, 10 The amazing wonder of the multitude. Sej. No more. - Send for the tribunes; we will straight have up More of the soldiers for our guard. Minutius, Trio the consul, or what senators 10 You know are sure, and ours. You, my good Natta, Lopped off and scatter'd her proud branches, Nero, If you will, destinies, that after all I faint now ere I touch my period, You are but cruel; and I already have done 20 30 Things great enough. All Rome hath been my slave; The senate sate an idle looker on, And witness of my power; when I have blush'd The fathers have sate ready and prepar'd To give me empire, temples, or their throats, When I would ask 'em ; and (what crowns the top) Rome, senate, people, all the world, have seen Jove but my equal, Cæsar but my second. 'Tis then your malice, Fates, who (but your own) 40 Envy and fear to have any power long known. |