Methinks I taste his misery, and could Sit down, and chide at his malignant stars. Jul. Methinks I love him, that he loves so truly. Cyth. This is the perfect'st love, lives after death. Gal. Such is the constant ground of virtue still. Plau. It puts on an inseparable face. Re-enter CHLOE. Chloe. Have you mark'd every thing, Crispinus? Cris. Every thing, I warrant you. Chloe. What gentlemen are these? do you know them? Cris. Ay, they are poets, lady. Chloe. Poets! they did not talk of me since I went, did they? Cris. O yes, and extolled your perfections to the heavens. Chloe. Now in sincerity they be the finest kind of men that ever I knew: Poets! Could not one get the emperor to make my husband a poet, think you? Cris. No, lady, 'tis love and beauty make poets: and since you like poets so well, your love and beauties shall make me a poet. Chloe. What! shall they? and such a one as these? Cris. Ay, and a better than these: I would be sorry else. Chloe. And shall your looks change, and your hair change, and all, like these?1 Si piguit portas ultra procedere, at illud But this is nothing to what follows. Briefly, if half of what she says be true, her ghost is fully justified in walking. 1 And shall your hair change, like these?] This is personal. It appears that Rufus Laberius Crispinus had red hair, which was not to Chloe's taste: Decker adverts to the bringing of a red beard on the stage, in the Guls Hornbook. See p. 419. Cunning, which Cris. Why, a man may be a poet, and yet not change his hair, lady. Chloe. Well, we shall see your cunning: yet, if you can change your hair, I pray do. Re-enter ALBIUS. Alb. Ladies, and lordlings, there's a slight banquet stays within for you; please you draw near, and accost it. Jul. We thank you, good Albius: but when shall we see those excellent jewels you are commended to have? Alb. At your ladyship's service.-I got that speech Her. A little melancholy; let me alone, prithee. Her. With riding: a plague on all coaches for me! Cyth. No, this is Hermogenes: as humourous as a poet, though he is a musician. Chloe. A musician! then he can sing. Cyth. That he can excellently; did you never hear him? Chloe. O no will he be entreated, think you ? Cyth. I know not.-Friend, mistress Chloe would fain hear Hermogenes sing: are you interested in him? Gal. No doubt, his own humanity will command occurs in Chloe's next speech, means skill in poetry; in which sense, and in its kindred one, proficiency in music, it is often found in Jonson and his contemporaries. him so far, to the satisfaction of so fair a beauty; but rather than fail, we'll all be suitors to him. Her. 'Cannot sing. Gal. Prithee, Hermogenes. Her. 'Cannot sing. Gal. For honour of this gentlewoman, to whose house I know thou mayest be ever welcome. Chloe. That he shall, in truth, sir, if he can sing. Ovid. What's that? Gal. This gentlewoman is wooing Hermogenes for a song. Ovid. A song! come, he shall not deny her. Hermogenes! Her. 'Cannot sing. Gal. No, the ladies must do it; he stays but to have their thanks acknowledged as a debt to his cunning. Jul. That shall not want; ourself will be the first shall promise to pay him more than thanks, upon a favour so worthily vouchsafed. Her. Thank you, madam; but 'will not sing. Tib. Tut, the only way to win him, is to abstain from entreating him. Cris. Do you love singing, lady? Chloe. O, passingly. Cris. Entreat the ladies to entreat me to sing then, I beseech you. Chloe. I beseech your grace, entreat this gentleman to`sing. Jul. That we will, Chloe; can he sing excellently? Chloe. I think so, madam; for he entreated me to entreat you to entreat him to sing. Cris. Heaven and earth! would you tell that? Jul. Good sir, let's entreat you to use your voice. Cris. Alas, madam, I cannot in truth. Pla. The gentleman is modest: I warrant you, he sings excellently. Ovid. Hermogenes, clear your throat; I see by him, here's a gentleman will worthily challenge you. Cris. Not I, sir, I'll challenge no man. Tib. That's your modesty, sir; but we, out of an assurance of your excellency, challenge him in your behalf. Cris. I thank you, gentlemen, I'll do my best. Her. Let that best be good, sir, you were best. Gal. O, this contention is excellent! What is't you sing, sir? Čris. If I freely may discover, sir; I'll sing that. Ovid. One of your own compositions, Hermogenes. He offers you vantage enough. Cris. Nay, truly, gentlemen, I'll challenge no man. -I can sing but one staff of the ditty neither. Gal. The better: Hermogenes himself will be entreated to sing the other. CRISPINUS sings. If I freely may discover What would please me in my lover, All extremes I would have barr'd. Gal. Believe me, sir, you sing most excellently. Ovid. If there were a praise above excellence, the gentleman highly deserves it. Her. Sir, all this doth not yet make me envy you; for I know I sing better than you. Tib. Attend Hermogenes, now. HERMOGENES, accompanied. She should be allow'd her passions, Jul. Nay, Hermogenes, your merit hath long since been both known and admired of us. Her. You shall hear me sing another. I begin." Now will Gal. We shall do this gentleman's banquet too much wrong, that stays for us, ladies. Jul. 'Tis true; and well thought on, Cornelius Gallus. Her. Why, 'tis but a short air, 'twill be done presently, pray stay: strike, music. Ovid. No, good Hermogenes; we'll end this difference within. 2 Now will I begin.] The character of Hermogenes is drawn with great pleasantry by Horace, and Jonson has embodied his description very successfully: his insolence, vanity, affectation, and capriciousness are distinctly placed before the reader. The outlines, and merely the outlines, of the elegant song in the text, Ben found in Martial, as Whalley observes; the filling up is his own. "Qualem, Flacce, velim quæris, nolimve puellam? Illud quod medium est, atque inter utrumque probamus, L. i. ep. 58. |