ACT III. SCENE I. The Via Sacra," (or Holy Street.) Enter HORACE, CRISPINUS following. Hor. Umph! yes, I will begin an ode so; and it shall be to Mecænas. Cris. 'Slid, yonder's Horace! they say he's an excellent poet: Mecænas loves him. I'll fall "O, master, master, I have, watch'd so long, Angel can have no sense here, for, if a messenger be meant by it, as the critics say, this ancient personage could never be mistaken for one, by any body. Theobald and Warburton read Engle, meaning, perhaps, a native of the north of Europe; Steevens writes about it, and about it, and says nothing; and Malone leaves the passage in obscurity. Hanmer however, reads enghle, and this, I have no doubt, was the very word which Shakspeare, amidst all the uncertainty of his orthography, meant to use. What Tranio wanted, was a simpleton, a man fit to be imposed upon by a feigned tale; and such a one, Biondello, after a tedious search, presumes that he has discovered. But why does he form this conclusion? This is not even guessed at by the critics. It is pretty clearly hinted at, however, in the old comedy of the Supposes, from which Shakspeare took this part of his plot. There Erostrato, the Biondello of Shakspeare, looks out for a person to gull by an idle story, judges from appearances, that he has found him, and is not deceived: 66 At the foot of the hill I met a gentleman, and, as methought, by his habits and his looks, he should be none of the wisest." Again, "this gentleman being, as I guessed at the first, a man of small sapientia." And Dulippo, (the Lucentio of Shakspeare,) as soon as he spies him coming, exclaims, “ Is this he? go meet him: by my troth, he looks like a good soul, he that fisheth for him might be sure to catch a codshead." A. II. S. 1. 66 into his acquaintance, if I can ; I think he be composing as he goes in the street! ha! 'tis a good humour, if he be: I'll compose too. Hor. Swell me a bowl with lusty wine, Till I may see the plump Lycus swim Above the brim: I drink as I would write, In flowing measure fill'd with flame and sprite. Cris. Sweet Horace, Minerva and the Muses stand auspicious to thy designs! How farest thou, sweet man? frolic? rich? gallant? ha! Hor. Not greatly gallant, sir; like my fortunes, well: I am bold to take my leave, sir; you'll nought else, sir, would you? Cris. Troth, no, but I could wish thou didst know us, Horace; we are a scholar, I assure thee. Hor. A scholar, sir! I shall be covetous of your fair knowledge. Cris. Gramercy, good Horace. Nay, we are new turn'd poet too, which is more; and a satirist too, which is more than that: I write just These are the passages which our great poet had in view; and these, I trust, are more than sufficient to explain why Biondello concludes at first sight, that this "ancient piece of formality" will serve his turn. From his being constantly termed a pedant, it is probable that he was dressed in a long stuff gown, which is the invariable costume of a schoolmaster; the object of incessant ridicule in the old Italian comedy, from whom we borrowed him. "I was often," says Montaigne, "when a boy, wonderfully concerned to see, in the Italian farce, a pedant always brought in as the fool of the play." Vol. I. p. 190. 5 The Via Sacra, &c.] This scene is little more than a translation of Hor. Lib. 1. Sat. ix. It is far from ill done; and yet, methinks, Jonson might have found a happier method of introducing himself. 6 Swell me a bowl with lusty wine,] Decker attempts to ridicule this little ode, but without success: It is easy to parody any thing into nonsense; but to make the public believe that it comes from such men as Jonson, when it is done, exceeds the powers of a hundred Deckers. This is some consolation. in thy vein, I. I am for your odes, or your sermons," or any thing indeed; we are a gentleman besides; our name is Rufus Laberius Crispinus; we are a pretty Stoic too. Hor. To the proportion of your beard, I think it, sir. Cris. By Phoebus, here's a most neat, fine street, is't not? I protest to thee, I am enamoured of this street now, more than of half the streets of Rome again; 'tis so polite, and terse ! there's the front of a building now! I study architecture too; if ever I should build, I'd have a house just of that prospective. Hor. Doubtless, this gallant's tongue has a good turn, when he sleeps. [Aside. Cris. I do make verses, when I come in such a street as this: O, your city ladies, you shall have them sit in every shop like the Muses-offering you the Castalian dews, and the Thespian liquors, to as many as have but the sweet grace and audacity to--sip of their lips. Did you never hear any of my verses? Hor. No, sir;-but I am in some fear I must now. [Aside. Cris. I'll tell thee some, if I can but recover them, I composed even now of a dressing I saw a jeweller's wife wear, who indeed was a jewel herself: I prefer that kind of tire now; what's thy opinion, Horace? sir. 8 Hor. With your silver bodkin, it does well, 7 I am for your odes, or your sermons,] This is a barbarous version of sermones, which, Horace modestly applies to his Satires, on account of the approaches which the diction of them makes to familiar discourse. 8 I prefer that kind of tire now ;] i. e. head-dress. Crispinus shews his taste here: the hair neatly twisted and confined at Cris. I cannot tell;' but it stirs me more than all your court-curls, or your spangles, or your tricks: I affect not these high gable-ends, these, Tuscan tops, nor your coronets, nor your arches, nor your pyramids; give me a fine, sweet little delicate dressing with a bodkin, as you say; and a mushroom for all your other orna tures! him? Hor. Is it not possible to make an escape from [Aside. Cris. I have remitted my verses all this while; I think I have forgot them. Hor. Here's he could wish you had else. [Aside. Cris. Pray Jove I can entreat them of my memory! Hor. You put your memory to too much trouble, sir. Cris. No, sweet Horace, we must not have thee think so. Hor. I cry you mercy; then they are my ears That must be tortured: well, you must have patience, ears. Cris. Pray thee, Horace, observe. Hor. Yes, sir; your satin sleeve begins to fret the top by a pearl brooch, or a silver bodkin, is certainly a more becoming fashion than any of the fantastic modes, which he enumerates. The jeweller's wife is Chloe, who had expressed a desire to see Crispinus a poet, p. 424. 9 I cannot tell,] I know not what to say of it. Another example of that mode of speech, which the commentators have so unaccountably overlooked. See Vol. I. p. 125. 1 Your satin sleeve begins to fret, &c.] Decker appears to have been extremely mortified at these reflections on his own and his friend's dress, and adverts to them with great bitterness. Tucca. "Thou wrongest here a good honest rascal, Crispinus, and a poor varlet Demetrius, brethren in thine own trade of poetry: thou say'st Crispinus' satin doublet is ravelled out here; and that at the rug that is underneath it, I do observe : and your ample velvet bases are not without evident stains of a hot disposition naturally. Cris. O--I'll dye them into another colour, at pleasure: How many yards of velvet dost thou think they contain? Hor. 'Heart! I have put him now in a fresh way To vex me more :-faith, sir, your mercer's book Will tell you with more patience than I can :-For I am crost, and so's not that, I think.3 Cris. 'Slight, these verses have lost me again! I shall not invite them to mind, now. Hor. Rack not your thoughts, good sir; rather defer it this penurious sneaker is out at elbows." Satiro. And again; "They have sewed up that seam-rent lie of thine, that Demetrius is out at elbows, and Crispinus is fallen out with satin here." Ib. The audience before whom these illiberal scenes were played, must have had singular notions of delicacy, if they found pleasure in them. Decker, however, is far more gross and scurrilous than Jonson: this, indeed, does not justify our author; but it serves to shew that the people were not scandalized by such conduct; and consequently, that little or no restraint was laid on the coarsest expressions of vulgar feeling. 2 Your ample velvet bases.] In the quarto it is velvet hose; from which it appears that Jonson, as was sometimes the case with the writers of his age, uses the word for breeches. Strictly speaking, however, bases were a kind of short petticoat, somewhat like the phillibegs of the Highlanders, and were probably suggested by the military dress of the Romans. Thus, in the Picture: "You, minion, "Had a hand in it too, as it appears; "Your petticoat serves for bases to this warrior." 3 For I am crost, and so's not that, I think.] A play on the word cross. Decker does not forget this sneer. "Thou art great in somebody's books for thy parchment suit, (the perpetuana which Jonson usually wore, p. 278,) thou knowest where: thou wouldst be out at elbows, and out at heels too, but thou layest about thee with a bill for this." Satiromastix. |