If all the vulgar tongues that speak this day
Were ask'd of thy discoveries; they must say,
To the Greek coast thine only knew the way.

Such passage hast thou found, such returns made,
As now of all men, it is call'd thy trade,
And who make thither else, rob, or invade.

XXI.

TO MY CHOSEN FRIEND,

THE LEARNED TRANSLATOR Of Lucan,
THOMAS MAY, ESQUIRE.

W

HEN, Rome, I read thee in thy mighty pair,
And see both climbing up the slippery stair
Of Fortune's wheel, by Lucan driv'n about,
And the world in it, I begin to doubt,
At every line some pin thereof should slack
At least, if not the general engine crack.
But when again I view the parts so pays'd,
And those in number so, and measure rais'd,
As neither Pompey's popularity,
Cæsar's ambition, Cato's liberty,
Calm Brutus' tenor start, but all along
Keep due proportion in the ample song,

It makes me, ravish'd with just wonder, cry
What Muse, or rather God of harmony

mond's Works," he coolly says, at the bottom of page 244: but has he seen them? The fact is, that the passage in question is a wicked fabrication, put into Drummond's mouth by Shiels, the Scotchman, the author of the Lives of the Poets which pass under the name of Theophilus Cibber.

"Now this is worshipful authority"!-but it does very well in Jonson's case, and is, indeed, quite as worthy of notice, and quite as authentic, as most of the matter brought against him.

Taught Lucan these true modes! replies my sense,
What gods but those of arts, and eloquence?
Phœbus, and Hermes? they whose tongue, or pen,
Are still th' interpreters twixt gods and men!
But who hath them interpreted, and brought
Lucan's whole frame unto us, and so wrought,
As not the smallest joint, or gentlest word
In the great mass, or machine there is stirr'd?
The self-same Genius! so the work will say:
The Sun translated, or the son of May."

5 i. e. Hermes. This complimentary poem, which is signed "Your true friend in judgment and choice, Ben Jonson," is prefixed to May's Translation of Lucan, 1627. May, with whom our author appears to have always lived on terms of the strictest friendship, is selected by Macklin, with his usual good fortune, to father one of his scurrilous attacks upon Jonson; much to the satisfaction of Mr. Steevens, who exults in the clumsy forgery as a decisive proof of "old Ben's malignity to Shakspeare."

May published a continuation of Lucan in 1630, which was reprinted in Holland, 1640, with this title: Supplementum Lucanı authore Tho. May, Anglo. The first edition has never fallen in my way; the second is prefaced by the following lines, written, as I conjecture, by our author, though the foreign press has copied his name incorrectly.

Dignissimo
Viro
Thoma Mayo

Amico suo summè honorando.

Terge parentales oculos, post funera mundi
Roma tui, nondum tota sepulta jaces.
Gloria vivit adhuc radiis evincta coruscis
Quam tibi perpetuat nobile Vatis opus:
Cujus in historia moreris, pariterque triumphas:
Exornantque tuas vulnera sæva genas.
Ingenio, Lucane, tuo tua Roma ruinis

Auctior, et damnis stat veneranda magis
Quam tot terrarum dum sceptra superba teneret
Atque triumphati spargeret orbis opes.
Sed Romæ quodcunque tuæ Lucane dedisti,
Hoc dedit et Maii subsidialis amor,
Qui tibi succurrit vindex, et divite vena
Supplevit latices, te moriente, tuos.

XXII.

TO MY DEAR SON, AND RIGHT LEARNED FRIEND,
MASTER JOSEPH RUTTER.

OU look, my Joseph, I should something say
Unto the world, in praise of your first play:
And truly, so I would, could I be heard.

You know, I never was of truth afeard,
And less asham'd; not when I told the crowd
How well I lov'd truth: I was scarce allow'd
By those deep-grounded, understanding men,
That sit to censure Plays, yet know not when,
Or why to like; they found it all was new,
And newer than could please them, because true.
Such men I met withal, and so have you.
Now, for mine own part, and it is but due,
(You have deserv'd it from me) I have read,
And weigh'd your play: untwisted ev'ry thread,
And know the woof and warp thereof; can tell
Where it runs round, and even; where so well,
So soft, and smooth it handles, the whole piece,
As it were spun by nature off the fleece:
This is my censure. Now there is a new
Office of wit, a mint, and (this is true)
Cried up of late whereto there must be first
A master-worker call'd, th' old standard burst
Of wit, and a new made; a warden then,
And a comptroller, two most rigid men
For order, and for governing the pix,
A say-master, hath studied all the tricks
Of fineness, and alloy follow his hint,
You have all the mysteries of wit's new mint,
The valuations, mixtures, and the same

Concluded from a caract to a dram.6

6 These lines are placed before the Shepherd's Holiday, a Pas

XXIII.

EPIGRAM.

IN AUTHOREM.7

HOU, that wouldst find the habit of true. passion,

And see a mind attir'd in perfect strains; Not wearing moods, as gallants do a fashion, In these pied times, only to shew their trains, Look here on Breton's work, the master print, Where such perfections to the life do rise; If they seem wry to such as look asquint, The fault's not in the object, but their eyes. For, as one coming with a lateral view,

Unto a cunning piece wrought perspective, Wants faculty to make a censure true;

So with this author's readers will it thrive; Which being eyed directly, I divine,

His proof their praise 'll incite, as in this line.

toral Drama, published in 1635. May joined with Jonson in commendation of this piece, which is favourably noticed by Langbaine. Rutter, who was probably a man of learning, was tutor to the son of the earl of Dorset, lord chamberlain, and therefore much about the court. He is said to have translated the Cid of Corneille, at the command of Charles I.

In Authorem.] This Epigram is printed before a poem of that indefatigable writer, Nicholas Breton, called "Melancholike humours, in verses of diverse natures." 1600.

XXIV.

TO THE WORTHY AUTHOR,

ON THE HUSBAND.8

T fits not only him that makes a book
To see his work be good; but that he look
Who are his test, and what their judgment is,
Least a false praise do make their dotage his.
I do not feel that ever yet I had

The art of uttering wares, if they were bad;
Or skill of making matches in my life:
And therefore I commend unto the Wife,
That went before-a Husband. She, I'll swear,
Was worthy of a good one, and this, here,
I know for such, as (if my word will weigh)
She need not blush upon the marriage day.

XXV.

TO THE AUTHOR.9

N picture, they which truly understand,
Require (besides the likeness of the thing)
Light posture, heightening, shadow,
colouring,

All which are parts commend the cunning hand
And all your book, when it is throughly scann'd,

8 The poem to which these lines are prefixed, is one of the numerous effusions to which that popular production, The Wife of sir Thomas Overbury, gave rise. The name of the writer is unknown; the poem itself is extremely rare indeed, I am not aware of the existence of any other copy than that from which the above transcript was made, in the collection of Mr. Hill. The title of the work is "The Husband: a poem expressed in a complete man.” 1614, 8vo.

9 This sonnet stands before a work, by Thomas Wright, called "The Passions of the Mind in general. 1604, and 1620," 4to.