Or that, unlike the line from whence I sprung, Which through the world shall ever chaunt my name. Homer will live whilst Tenedos stands, and Ide, Or, to the sea, fleet Simois doth slide: And so shall Hesiod too, while vines do bear, Whilst harlots flatter, shall Menander flourish. smooth and flowing elegance of modern paraphrasts." Conciseness, and a close adherence to the text, were the points at which he aimed; and in these he rarely fails of his ends. The present version, which is that of El. 15, Amor. Lib. i. gives us line for line of the original, without the omission of a single idea; nor is it altogether devoid of ease and spirit. This little poem does not now appear for the first time. In 1599 was published a translation of Ovid's Elegies by Christopher Marlow, and this among them: not, indeed, precisely as it stands here, but with such variations as may be supposed to exist in the rough sketch of a finished original. Marlow was now dead; but it seems strange that the editor of his poems, who might be Chapman, should print this under his name, especially as it is followed by that before us; which Jonson probably reclaimed when he wrote the Poetaster. I give this poem to Jonson, because he is well known to be incapable of taking credit for the talents of another; and it certainly affords a curious instance of the laxity of literary morality in those days, when a scholar could assert his title to a poem of forty-two lines, of which thirty at least are literally borrowed, and the remainder only varied for the worse. Of Varro's name, what ear shall not be told, Whilst Rome of all the conquer'd world is head! Kings shall give place to it, and kingly shows, Enter OVID senior, followed by Luscus, Tucca, Ovid se. Your name shall live, indeed, sir! you say true but how infamously, how scorn'd and contemn'd in the eyes and ears of the best and gravest Romans, that you think not on; you never so much as dream of that. Are these the fruits of all my travail and expenses? Is this the scope and aim of thy studies? Are these the hopeful courses, wherewith I have so long flattered my expectation from thee? Verses! Poetry! Ovid, whom I thought to see the pleader, become Ovid the play-maker! Ovid ju. No, sir. 9 Ovid se. Yes, sir! I hear of a tragedy of yours coming forth for the common players there, call'd Medea. By my household gods, if I come to the acting of it, I'll add one tragic part more than is yet expected to it: believe me, when I promise it. What! shall I have my son a stager now? an enghle for players? a gull, a rook, a shot-clog, to make suppers, and be laugh'd at? Publius, I will set thee on the funeral pile first. Ovid ju. Sir, I beseech you to have patience. Lus. Nay, this 'tis to have your ears damm'd up to good counsel. I did augur all this to him beforehand, without poring into an ox's paunch for the matter, and yet he would not be scrupulous. Tuc. How now, goodman slave! what, rowlypowly? all rivals, rascal? Why, my master of worship, dost hear? are these thy best projects? is this thy designs and thy discipline, to suffer knaves to be competitors with commanders and gentlemen? Are we parallels, rascal, are we parallels? Ovid se. Sirrah, go get my horses ready. You'll still be prating. Tuc. Do, you perpetual stinkard, do, go; talk to tapsters and ostlers, you slave; they are in your 9 A tragedy of yours called Medea.] Of this tragedy all but one line is lost. It is mentioned by Quintilian and the elder Seneca, as a work of considerable merit: indeed, Ovid himself speaks of it with some complacency, and asserts that he was not without talents for compositions of this nature: “Sceptra tamen sumpsi; curaque tragœdia nostra An enghle for players.] See p. 405. 2 Why, my master of worship, &c.] The quarto reads my knight, &c. Ovid was of the equestrian order: there are several variations of a similar nature, in the appellations with which this whimsical character so frequently sports; but they are, in general, too unimportant for particular notice. element, go here be the emperor's captains, you raggamuffin rascal, and not your comrades. [Exit Luscus. Lup. Indeed, Marcus Ovid, these players are an idle generation, and do much harm in a state, corrupt young gentry very much, I know it; I have not been a tribune thus long and observed nothing: besides, they will rob us, us, that are magistrates, of our respect, bring us upon their stages, and make us ridiculous to the plebeians; they will play you or me, the wisest men they can come by still, only to bring us in contempt with the vulgar, and make us cheap. Tuc. Thou art in the right, my venerable cropshin, they will indeed; the tongue of the oracle never twang'd truer. Your courtier cannot kiss his mistress's slippers in quiet for them; nor your white innocent gallant pawn his revelling suit to make his punk a supper. An honest decayed commander cannot skelder, cheat, nor be seen in a bawdy-house, but he shall be straight in one of their wormwood comedies. They are grown licentious, the rogues; libertines, flat libertines. They forget they are in the statute,3 the rascals; they are blazoned there; there they are trick'd,' they and their pedigrees; they need no other heralds, I wiss. Ovid se. Methinks, if nothing else, yet this alone, the very reading of the public edicts, should fright thee from commerce with them, and give thee distaste enough of their actions. But this betrays 3 They forget they are in the statute, &c.] He alludes to the statute of the thirty-ninth of Elizabeth, by which common players, i. e. persons not authorised to act under the hand and seal of some nobleman, were deemed rogues and vagabonds. 4 They are blazoned there; there they are trick'd.] To blazon, is to set forth a coat of arms in its proper colours; to trick, as has been before observed, is to draw it only with a pen. what a student you are, this argues your proficiency in the law! Ovid ju. They wrong me, sir, and do abuse you more, That blow your ears with these untrue reports. I am not known unto the open stage, Nor do I traffic in their theatres : Indeed, I do acknowledge, at request Of some near friends," and honourable Romans, Ovid se. You have, sir, a poem! and where is it? That's the law you study. Ovid ju. Cornelius Gallus borrowed it to read. 6 Ovid se. Cornelius Gallus! there's another gallant too hath drunk of the same poison, and Tibullus and Propertius. But these are gentlemen of means and revenues now. Thou art a younger brother, and hast nothing but thy bare exhibition; which I protest shall be bare indeed, if thou forsake not these unprofitable by-courses, and that timely too. Name me a profest poet, that his poetry did ever afford him so much as a competency. Ay, your god of poets there, whom all of you admire and reverence so much, Homer, he whose worm-eaten statue must not be spewed against, but with hallow'd lips and groveling adoration, what was he? what was he? Tuc. Marry, I'll tell thee, old swaggerer; he was a poor blind, rhyming rascal, that lived obscurely up and down in booths and tap-houses, and scarce 5 Of some near friends.] Whalley, who took for his text the paltry edition of the booksellers, gave meer friends; an expression not bad in itself, but without authority. This very corruption has been frequently produced by the commentators, as ascertaining the ancient sense of the word mere. It is seldom safe to trust a copy of a copy; they should have turned to the quarto and folio editions. 6 Thy bare exhibition,] i. e. stipend, or annual allowance from his father. This word has been already noticed. |