me fry my jerkin, would he? Away, setter, away. Yet, stay, my little tumbler,* this old boy shall supply now. I will not trouble him, I cannot be importunate, I; I cannot be impudent. Pyr. Alas, sir, no; you are the most maidenly blushing creature upon the earth. [Aside. 5 Tuc. Dost thou hear, my little six and fifty, or thereabouts? thou art not to learn the humours and tricks of that old bald cheater, Time; thou hast not this chain for nothing. Men of worth have their chimeras, as well as other creatures; and they do see monsters sometimes, they do, they do, brave boy. Pyr. Better cheap than he shall see you, I warrant him. [Aside. Tuc. Thou must let me have six-six drachms, I mean, old boy: thou shalt do it; I tell thee, old boy, thou shalt, and in private too, dost thou see?-Go, walk off: [to the Boy]-There, there. Six is the sum. Thy son's a gallant spark, and must not be put out of a sudden. Come hither, Callimachus; thy father tells me thou art too poetical, boy: thou must not be so; thou must leave them, young novice, thou must; they are a sort of poor starved rascals, that are ever wrapt up in foul linen; and can boast of nothing but a lean visage, peering out of a seamrent suit, the very emblems of beggary. No, dost hear, turn lawyer, thou shalt be my solicitor.-'Tis right, old boy, is't? must eat their arms or clem." See also Massinger, vol. ii. p. 362. There is some pleasantry in making Agrippa, the first man in the state, indebted to this beggarly captain. 4 Yet, stay, my little tumbler.] Not one that shews postures, but a particular kind of dog, to which our ancestors gave the name of tumbler, from his manner of hunting. WHAL. 5 Better cheap than he shall see you.] At a less price. Cheap is market, and the adjective good, with its comparatives, is often joined with it by our old writers; thus we have continually good cheap, better cheap, &c.. for cheap, cheaper, and cheapest. Ovid se. You were best tell it, captain. Tuc. No; fare thou well, mine honest horseman ; and thou, old beaver. [to LUPUS-Pray thee, Roman, when thou comest to town, see me at my lodging, visit me sometimes; thou shalt be welcome, old boy. Do not balk me, good swaggerer. Jove keep thy chain from pawning; go thy ways, if thou lack money I'll lend thee some: I'll leave thee to thy horse now. Adieu. Ovid se. Farewell, good captain. Tuc. Boy, you can have but half a share now, boy. [Exit, followed by Pyrgus. Ovid se. 'Tis a strange boldness that accompanies this fellow.Come. Ovid ju. I'll give attendance on you to your horse, sir, please you—— Ovid se. No; keep your chamber, and fall to your studies; do so: The gods of Rome bless thee ! [Exit with LUPUS. Ovid ju. And give me stomach to digest this law The soul of science, and the queen of souls; 6 And give me stomach to digest this law: That should have follow'd, &c.] So Gloster, in the same strain of irony: 66 Amen! and make me die a good old man! I marvel that her Grace did leave it out." Rich. III. A. ii. S. 2. WHAL. When, would men learn but to distinguish spirits, They would admire bright knowledge, and their minds As gold, or titles; they would dread far more The time was once,' when wit drown'd wealth; but now, Your only barbarism is t' have wit, and want. No matter now in virtue who excels, He that hath coin, hath all perfection else. Ovid. Good morrow, dear Tibullus; welcome: sit down. Tib. Not I. What, so hard at it? what's here? Let's see, Numa in decimo nono! Nay, I will see it—— 'Tib. If thrice in field a man vanquish his foe, 7 'Tis after in his choice to serve or no. The time was once, &c.] This is from Amor. lib. iii. eleg. 8. "Ingenium quondam fuerat pretiosius auro; At nunc barbaries grandis, habere nihil." 8 Good morrow, lawyer.] It should be observed, that Ovid is still in the cap and gown which he had assumed upon the entrance of his father. How now, Ovid! Law cases in verse? Ovid. In troth, I know not; they run from my pen unwittingly, if they be verse." What's the news abroad? Tib. Off with this gown; I come to have thee walk. Ovid. No, good Tibullus, I'm not now in case. Pray let me alone. Tib. How! not in case? 'Slight, thou'rt in too much case, by all this law. Ovid. Troth, if I live, I will new dress the law In sprightly Poesy's habiliments. Tib. The hell thou wilt! What! turn law into verse? Thy father has school'd thee, I see. Here, read that same; There's subject for you; and, if I mistake not, 9 Ovid. How! subscribed Julia! O my life, my heaven! Tib. Is the mood changed? they run from my pen unwittingly, if they be verse.] Sponte tamen numeros carmen veniebat ad aptos, Et quod conabar scribere, versus erat.” The above, however, is but a poor specimen of it; though it serves well enough to shew that Lord Hardwicke was not the first who thought of putting the common law into verse. As Whalley brought back the date of this law from the 4to, it is here retained; though with some little injustice, perhaps, to Jonson. He had discovered, I imagine, the impropriety of attributing regulations of a warlike nature to Numa, and therefore omitted the title upon a revision of the play. We hear no more of Ovid's law; yet he was somewhat farther advanced in it than Jonson seems to admit he was apparently a very respectable advocate. He tells Augustus that he had pleaded causes in his youth with success, as one of the Centumviri; and that, when he heard private disputes as a judge, the losing parties were satisfied with the equity of his decision: "Nec male commissa est nobis fortuna reorum, Lisque," &c. Ovid. Music of wit! note for th' harmonious spheres ! Celestial accents, how you ravish me! Tib. What is it, Ovid? Ovid. That I must meet my Julia, the princess Julia. Tib. Where? Ovid. Why, at—— Heart, I've forgot; my passion so transports me. Tib. I'll save your pains: it is at Albius' house, The jeweller's, where the fair Lycoris lies. Ovid. Who? Cytheris, Cornelius Gallus' love? Tib. Ay, he'll be there too, and my Plautia. Ovid. And why not your Delia? Tib. Yes, and your Corinna. Ovid. True; but, my sweet Tibullus, keep that secret; I would not, for all Rome, it should be thought Julia, the gem and jewel of my soul, That takes her honours from the golden sky, The air respires the pure Elysian sweets In which she breathes, and from her looks descend The glories of the summer. Heaven she is, Praised in herself above all praise; and he Which hears her speak, would swear the tuneful orbs Turn'd in his zenith only. Tib. Publius, thou'lt lose thyself. Ovid. O, in no labyrinth can I safelier err, Than when I lose myself in praising her. Hence, law, and welcome Muses! though not rich, And new made one. Henceforth, I promise faith, |