TIBULLUS

Ovid? Good morrow Lawyer. The hell thou wilt. what, turn Law into verse? Thy father has schooled thee I see. Here, read that same. Ther's subject for you: and if I mistake not, A Supersedeas to your Melancholy. Is the Mood changed? What is it, Ovid? I'll save your pains: it is at Albius house, The Jewellers, where the fair Eycoris lies. I, heel be there too, and my Plautia. Yes, and your Corinna. Publius, thou'lt lose thy self. Come, we shall have thee as passionate, as Proper tius, anon. Faith, full of sorrow, for his Cynthia's death. Still, and still more, his grieves do grow upon him, As do his hours. Never did I know And understanding spirit so take to heart The common work of Fate. And would be glad to deserve your love, Sir. I have not seen a more certain Character of and ex lent disposition. And thank Cornelius Gall . You yield to much unto your grieves, and Fate, Which never hurts, but when we say it hurts us. Tut, the only way to win him, is to abstain from entreating him. Attend Hermogenes now. You are Lady, by the great Princess Julia; who longs to greet you with any favours, that may worthily make you and often Courtier. The Princess hath sent her own, Lady. To tell you the female truth (which is the simple truth) Ladies; and to show that Poets (in spite of the world) are able to Deify them selves: At this Banquet, to which you are inui ted, we intend to assume the figures of the Gods; and to give our several Loves the Forms of Goddesses. Ovid, will be Jupi ter: the Princess Julia, Juno: Gallus here Apollo; you Cytheris, Pallas: I will be Bacchus, and my Love Plautia, Ceres. And to install you, and your Husband, fair Chloë, in honours, equal with ours; you shall be a Goddess, and your Husband a God. A most subtle wench! How she hath baited him with a Violent yonder, for a song! Oh, most of all, Lady. A little, with her face, Lady; or so. Nay, let Mars look to it: Vulcan must do as Venus doe's, bear. Jupiter, may do well to prefer his Tongue to some office, for his Eloquence. Show that unto Demetrius. Is it yours? Our Muse is in mind for untrussing a Poet: I slip by his Name; for most men do know it: A Critic, that all the world bescumbers With Satirical Humours, and Lyrical Numbers: And for the most partly, himself does advance With much selflove, and more Arrogance: And (but that I would not be thought a Prater) I could tell you, he were a Translater. I know the Authors from whence he ha stole, And could trace him too, but that I understand them not full and whole. The best note I can give you to know him by, Is, that he keeps Gallants company; Whom I would wish, in time should him fear, Least after they buy Repentance too deer. It shall be done, Caesar. Romans, return to your several seats: Lictors, Bring forward the Urn; and set the Accused at the Bar. Rufus Laberius Crispinus, and Demetrius Fannius, hold up your hands. You have (according to the Ro mane Custom) put your selves upon Trial to the Urn, for diverse and sundry Calumnies, whereof, you have before this time been indited, and are now present lie arraigned: Prepare your selves to harken to the verdict of your Tryers. Caius Cilnius Mecoenas pro nounceth you, by this handwriting, Guilty. Corneli. What's that? Oh Jupiter! Not I. what: so hard at it? Lets see, Whats here? Numa in Decimo nono? If thrice in field, a man vanquish his foe, 'Tis after in his choice to serve, or no. How now Ovid! Law cases in verse? Off with this gown, I come to have thee walk. How? not in case! 'Slight thou'rt in too much case, by all this Law. Where? Content, and I implore the Gods it may. Exeunt. That were not strange, Lady, if the Epithet were only given for the Company invited thither; your self, and this fair Gentlewoman. A God; but a lame God, Lady: for he shall be Vul can, and you Venus. And this will make our Banquet no less then heavenly. What news, my Quintus? What means this, Horace? God's-light! I hold my life, This same is he met him in Via sancram. Ceres? Sing, for my partly. Begin, Vulcan. I, but the world takes knowledge. Lictor, proclaim Silence, in the Court. Let the Parties, the Accuser, and the Accused, pre sent them selves. How will you be tried? Oh, terrible, windy words! Prorumped? What a noise it made! as if his Spirit would have Prorumpt with it. Nay: that are all we, I assure you. Take him away. Rufus Laberius Crispinus, and Demetrius Fan nius, Lay your hands on your hearts. You shall here solemnly contest, and swear; That never (after this instant) either, at Booksellers Stalls, in Taverns, Twopenny Rooms, 'Tiring-houses, Noblemen's Buttryes, Puisne's Chambers (the best, and farthest Places, where you are admitted to come) you shall once offer, or dare (thereby to endear your self the more to any Player, Enghle, or guilty Gull, in your Company ) to malign, traduce, or detract the Person, or Writings of Quintus Horam tius Flaccus; or any other Eminent Man, transcending you in Merit, whom your Envy shall find cause to work upon, either, for that, or for keeping him self in better Acquaintance, or enjoying better Friends: Or if (transported by any sudden and desperate Resolution) you do; That then, you shall not under the Baston, or in the next Presence, being and honourable Assembly of his Favourers, be brought as voluntary Gent: to undertake the forswearing of it. Neither shall you at any time (ambitiously, affecting the Title of the Vntrussers, or Whippers of the Age ) suffer the Itch of writing to overrun your performance in Libel; upon pain of being taken up for Lepers, in Wit, and (losing both your Time, and your Papers) be irrecoverably forfeited to the Hospital of Fools. So help you our Roman Gods, and the Genius of great Caesar. That's your modesty sir: but we, out of and assurance of your excellency, challenge him in your behalf. All humane business, Fortune does command Without all order; and with her blind hand, She, blind, bestows blind gifts; that still have nursed They see not who, nor how, but still, the worst. But, to approve his works of Sovereign worth, This Observation (me thinks) more then serves: And is not vulgar. That, which he hath writ, Is with such judgement, laboured, and distilled Through 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 breath his spirit out of him. Rufus Laberius Crispinus, and Demetrius Fannius, hold up your hands. You are, before this time, toyntly and several lie indited; and here presently to be arraigned, upon the Statute of Calumny, or Lex Remmia ( The one by the name of Rufus La berius Crispinus, alias Crispinas, Poe ̄ taster, and Plagiary: the oh there by the name of Demetrius Fannius, Play-dresser & Plagiary) That you (not having the fear of Phœbus or his shafts, before your eyes) contrary to the peace of our liege Lord, Augustus Came sar, his Crown and dignity, and against the form of a Sta tute in that case made, and provided; have most ignorantly, foe lishly, and (more Like your selves) maliciously gone about to de brave, and calumniate the Person and writings of Quintus Ho ratius Flaccus, here present, Poet, and Priest to the Muses: and to that end have mutually conspired, and plotted, at sundry times, as by several means, and in sundry places, for the better accom plishing your base and Envious purpose; taxing him, falsely, of Sefe love, Arrogance, Impudence, Railing, filching by Trans lation, &c. Of all which Calumnies, and every of them in man ner and form aforesaid, what answer you? Are you Guilty, or not Guilty? Ramp up, my Genius; be not Retrograde: But boldly nominate a Spade, a Spade. What, shall thy Lubricall and glibbery Muse Live, as she were defunct, Like Punque in Stews? Alas! That, were no modern Consequence, To have cothurnall Buskin's frighted hence. No; teach thy Incubus to Poetize, And throw abroad thy spurious Snotteries, Upon that puffed-up Lump of Barmy froth, Or Clumsy Chilblained Judgement; that, with Oath, Magnificates his Merit; and bespaules The conscious Time, with humorous Foam; & brawls, As if his Organons of Sense would crack The sinews of my Patience. Break his Back, Oh Poets all and some: For now we list Of strenuous Vengeance to clutch the fist. Remove the Accused from the Bar. Why? the Ditt'is all borrowed; it's Horaces: hang him Plagiary. So would not I: for both these would have turned Py thagoreans then. I, as fish faith: come Ladies, shall we go? Mercury, Mistress Chloë. So: now we may play the Fools, by Authority. Mars is enraged; he looks big, and begins to stut, for anger. True, Royal Caesar. Show this unto Crispinus. Is it yours? Then, you confess it, now. What says Crispinus? How now, Crispinus?