Reverence, amaze, and fury fight in me.
What, do they kneel! Nay, then I see 'tis true
I thought impossible: O, impious sight!
Let me divert mine eyes; the very thought
Everts my soul with passion: Look not, man,
There is a panther, whose unnatural eyes
Will strike thee dead: turn, then, and die on her
With her own death. [Offers to kill his daughter.
Mec. Hor. What means imperial Cæsar?

Cæs. What! would you have me let the strumpet live,

That, for this pageant, earns so many deaths?
Tuc. Boy, slink, boy.

Pyr. Pray Jupiter we be not followed by the scent, [Exeunt TUCCA and Pyrgus.

master.

Cas. Say, sir, what are you?

Alb. I play Vulcan, sir.
Cæs. But what are you, sir?

Alb. Your citizen and jeweller, sir.

Cas. And what are you, dame ?

Chloe. I play Venus, forsooth.

Cæs. I ask not what you play, but what you are.

Chloe. Your citizen and jeweller's wife, sir.

Cas. And you, good sir?

Cris. Your gentleman parcel-poet, sir.

Cæs. O, that profaned name!—

[Exit.

And are these seemly company for thee, [To JULIA.

Degenerate monster? All the rest I know,

And hate all knowledge for their hateful sakes.

Are you, that first the deities inspired

With skill of their high natures and their powers,
The first abusers of their useful light;

had written grosser lines with impunity; but the express purpose of Ovid, whether avowed or not, was to reduce licentiousness to an art, and facilitate the corruption of innocence: he was, therefore, infinitely more dangerous than the coarse and disgusting writers who preceded him.

Profaning thus their dignities in their forms,
And making them, like you, but counterfeits?
O, who shall follow Virtue and embrace her,
When her false bosom is found nought but air?
And yet of those embraces centaurs spring,
That war with human peace, and poison men.-
Who shall, with greater comforts, comprehend
Her unseen being and her excellence;

If

9

When you, that teach, and should eternize her,
Live as she were no law unto your lives,
Nor lived herself, but with your idle breaths?
you think gods but feign'd, and virtue painted,
Know we sustain an actual residence,
And with the title of an emperor,
Retain his spirit and imperial power;
By which, in imposition too remiss,
Licentious Naso, for thy violent wrong,
In soothing the declined affections
Of our base daughter, we exile thy feet
From all approach to our imperial court,
On pain of death; and thy misgotten love
Commit to patronage of iron doors;

Since her soft-hearted sire cannot contain her.

Mec. O, good my lord, forgive! be like the gods.

Hor. Let royal bounty, Cæsar, mediate.

Cas. There is no bounty to be shew'd to such

As have no real goodness: bounty is

A spice of virtue; and what virtuous act

Can take effect on them, that have no power
Of equal habitude to apprehend it,

But live in worship of that idol, vice,

As if there were no virtue, but in shade

Of strong imagination, merely enforced?

This shews their knowledge is mere ignorance,

And yet of these embraces centaurs spring.] Alluding to the fable of Ixion's embracing Juno in the shape of a cloud; from which conjunction arose the centaurs. WHAL.

Their far-fetch'd dignity of soul a fancy,
And all their square pretext of gravity
A mere vain-glory: hence, away with them!
I will prefer for knowledge, none but such
As rule their lives by it, and can becalm
All sea of Humour with the marble trident
Of their strong spirits: others fight below
With gnats and shadows; others nothing know.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. A Street before the Palace.

Enter TUCCA, CRISPINUS, and Pyrgus.

Tucca.

HAT'S become of my little punk, Venus, and the poult-foot stinkard,' her husband, ha?

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 'em 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.

1 The poult-foot stinkard,] i. e. lame, or club-foot. See Mercury vindicated from the Alchemists.

* He's turned 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.

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.2 Tuc. Valiant? so is mine a—. Gods and fiends! 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.3

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
Sensi, relicta non bene parmula;
Cum fracta virtus, et minaces,
Turpe! solum tetigere mento."

Surely the non

Was Pompeius Varus a coward? yet he too fled. 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 considering the circumstances under which it was used, to stigmatize the writer to all ages.

As for Ben, the Horace of the Poetaster, 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

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.

Horace.

AY, why pursue you not the emperor
For your reward now, Lupus?

Mec. Stay, Asinius;

You and your stager, and your band of lictors:
I hope your service merits more respect,
Than thus, without a thanks, to be sent hence.
His. Well, well, jest on, jest on.

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

Thy grace with Cæsar, but this wolfish train,
To prey upon the life of innocent mirth
And harmless pleasures, bred of noble wit?
Away! I loath thy presence; such as thou,
They are the moths and scarabs of a state,*
The bane of empires, and the dregs of courts ;

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.

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.