Cris. O, they are rid home in the coach, as fast as the wheels can run. Tuc. God Jupiter is banished, I hear, and his cockatrice Juno lock'd up. 'Heart, an all the poetry in Parnassus get me to be a player again, I'll sell 'ein my share for a sesterce. But this is Humours, Horace, that goat-footed envious slave; he's turn'd faun now; an informer, the rogue 'tis he has betray'd us all. Did you not 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, tam Marti, quam Mercurio. Pyr. Ay, but, master, take heed how you give this out; Horace is a man of the sword. Cris. Tis true, in troth; they say he's valiant." Tuc. Valiant? so is mine a-. Gods and fiends! * He's turn'd faun now ;] The writers of Jonson's days seem to have connected, I know not why, the idea of a spy, or splenetic observer, with that of a faun. Marston calls one of his plays the Fawne, in allusion to a character in disguise, who watches and exposes all the persons of the drama in succession. 2 In troth, they say he's valiant.] It would seem from this as if Jonson did not join in the general outcry against the cowardice of Horace. I confess myself to be of his opinion. If Horace fled at the battle of Philippi, it was not till courage was become unavailable, and the best and bravest troops of the army had fallen on the spot. How beautifully does he paint all this! "Tecum Philippos et celerem fugam .. Turpe! solum tetigere mento." Was Pompeius Varus a coward? yet he too fled. Surely the non bene, the fracta virtus, and the turpe, all bear the same meaning, and allude to the decisive defeat, not to the ill conduct of the patriotic army. It argues as little good sense as liberality, to take advantage of a poetical expression, and, without I'll blow him into air when I meet him next: he dares not fight with a puck-fist. [Horace passes over the stage. Pyr. Master, he comes! Tuc. Where? Jupiter save thee, my good poet, my noble prophet, my little fat Horace.I scorn to beat the rogue in the court; and I saluted him thus fair, because he should suspect nothing, the rascal. Come, we'll go see how far forward our journeyman is toward the untrussing of him.' Cris. Do you hear, captain? I'll write nothing in it but innocence, because I may swear I am innocent. [Exeunt. SCENE VI. Enter HORACE MECENAS, LUPUS, Histrio, and Lictors. 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: considering the circumstances under which it was used, to stigmatize the writer to all ages. As for Ben, the Horace of the Poctaster, he was undoubtedly valiant. He had given fatal proofs of courage in a duel, in which he killed his antagonist; and he had acquitted himself with honour in his Flemish campaigns. 3 Come, we'll go see how far forward our journeyman is toward the untrussing of him.] More proof that Demetrius is Decker; for Crispinus is now on the stage!-A man with the spleen of a wren," might be gratified at seeing how the critics, like Ding-dong's sheep, blindly leap after one another. 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 encrease And, under a disguised and cobweb mask it. Mec. Cæsar doth know it, wolf, and to his He will, I hope, reward your base endeavours. 4 They are the moths and scarabs of a state.] "Moths, are small winged insects that eat clothes." Scarabs, are beetles. I mention this because I am told that the information may be useful to some readers. 5 with their false, lapwing cries.] See Sejanus. SCENE VII. An open Space before the Palace. Enter OVID. Banish'd the court! Let me be banish'd life, So every body, moving in her sphere, Will here walk and attend her: for I know Is there concluded.] i. e. included or confined: there is a terrible number of Latinisms in this play. Not far from hence she is imprisoned, Ovid. Here, heavenly Julia. Jul. Here! and not here! O, how that word doth play With both our fortunes, differing, like ourselves, Shall keep me from thee; should my father lock conceive Of thy quick death, and of thy future life, |