OVID. Yea, we will knocke our chinne againft our 120 breft; and fhake thee out of Olympus, into an oyfterbote, for thy fcolding. Ivli. Your nofe is not long enough to doe it, Ivpiter, if all thy ftrumpets, thou haft among the ftarres, tooke thy part. And there is neuer a ftarre in thy fore-head, 125 but fhall be a horne, if thou perfift to abufe me. Cris. A good ieft, i'faith. Ovid. We tell thee, thou anger'ft vs, cot-queane; and we will thunder thee in peeces, for thy cotqueanitie. CRIS. Another good ieft. Albi. O, my hammers, and my Cyclops! this boy fills not wine enough, to make vs kind enough, to one another. 130 Tvcc. Nor thou haft not collied thy face enough, 135 ftinkard. Albi. I'le ply the table with neflar, and make them friends. Herm. Heauen is like to haue but a lame skinker, then. ALBI. "Wine, and good liuers, make true louers: I'le fentence them together. Here father, here mother, for fhame, drinke your felues drunke, and forget this diffention you two fhould cling together, before our faces, and giue vs example of vnitie. GALL. O, excellently fpoken, Vulcanj on the fodaine! Tibv. Ivpiter, may doe well to preferre his tongue to fome office, for his eloquence. 125 thy] my 1640, 1692, 1716 140 145 129-130 cot-queanitie.] Cotquean ity: we will lay this City desolate, and flat as this hand, for thy offences. These two fingers are the Walls of it; these within, the People; which People, shall be all throwne downe thus, and nothing left standing in this Citty, but these walls. Q 132-4 "O, . . . another." W Tvcc. His tongue fhall bee gent'man viher to his 150 wit, and ftill goe before it. Albi. An excellent fit office! Cris. I, and an excellent good ieft, befides. Herm. What, haue you hired Mercvry, to cry your iefts you make? OVID. Momvs, you are enuious. Tvcc. Why, you whorefon block-head, 'tis your only blocke of wit in fafhion (now adaies) to applaud other folkes iefts. 155 HERM. True: with thofe that are not artificers 160 themefelues. Vulcan, you nod; and the mirth of the ieft droops. Pyrg. He ha's fild neElar fo long, till his braine fwims in it. Gall. What, doe we nod, fellow Gods? found 165 muficke, and let vs ftartle our fpirits with a fong. Tvcc. Doe, Apollo: thou art a good mufician. VV SONG. Ake, our mirth begins to die: Quicken it with tunes, and wine: 185 This drouzineffe is an ill figne. We banifh him the queere of Gods, That droops agen: Then all are men, For here's not one, but nods. OVID. I like not this fodaine and generall heauineffe, amongft our Godheads: 'Tis fomewhat ominous. Apollo, command vs lowder muficke, and let Mercvry, and Momvs contend to pleafe, and reuiue our fenfes. HERM. CRIS. AMBO. HERM. CRIS. HERM. CRIS. AMBO. T SONG. Hen, in a free and lofty ftraine, Running diuifion on the panting aire: To celebrate this feaft of fenfe, Delicious necTar, for the tafle; For the touch, a ladies wafte; Ovid. I: This hath wak't vs. Mercvry, our Song.] CANTVS. Qom. G 187 Quire 1640, 1692, N TVS. Qom. N 207 hath] has W + 190 195 200 205 183 Alb. G, N 194 [Music. G, N 199 Ambo.] Both. N 184 wines W SONG.] CAN 205 Ambo.] Both. N the great Emperour, Avgvstvs Caesar: And command him, from vs (of whofe bountie he hath receiued 21o his fir-name, Avgvstvs) that for a thanke-offring to our beneficence, he prefently facrifice as a difh to this banquet, his beautifull and wanton daughter Ivlia. Shee's a curft queane, tell him; and plaies the fcold behind his backe: Therefore, let her be facrific'd. 215 Command him this, Mercvry, in our high name of IVP1TER ALT1TONANS. Ivli. Stay, feather-footed Mercvry, and tell Avgvstvs, from vs, the great Ivno Satvrnia; if he thinke it hard to doe, as Ivpiter [323] hath com- 22o manded him, and facrifice his daughter, that hee had better to doe fo ten times, then fuffer her to loue the well-nos'd poet, Ovid: whom he fhall doe well to whip, or caufe to bee whipt, about the capitoll, for foothing her, in her follies. CÆSAR, MECONAS, HORACE, LVPVS, HIS- VV Hat fight is this? MECONAs! Horace! fay! Or, are thefe but imaginarie obiects Drawne by our phantafie? Why fpeake you not? 219 Ivno] Junio 1692, 1716, W ... 222 better do 1716, W, G 225 SCENA SEXTA. Q Art . . . Chloe.] Enter Augustus CÆSaR, Meoenas, Horace, Lupus, Histrio, Minos, and Lictors. G (so N, omitting Augustus.) I Casar. Q Cas. 1716+ Let vs doe facrifice? Are they the Gods? He offers to kill his daughter. Meccc Horace. What meanes imperiall Caesar? Caesa. What, would you haue me let the ftrumpet liue, That, for this pageant, earnes fo many deathes? Tvcc. Boy, flinke boy. Pyrg. 'Pray Ivpiter, we be not follow'd by the fent, Mafter. Caesa. Say, fir, what are you? ALBI. I play Vulcan, fir. CAESA. But, what are you, fir? Albi. Your citizen, and ieweller, fir. Caesa. And what are you, dame? Chlo. I play Venvs, forfooth. 25 Caesa. I aske not, what you play? but, what you are? Chlo. Your citizen, and iewellers wife, fir. Caesa. And you, good fir? Cris. Your gentleman, parcell-poet, fir. 3o Caesa. O, that prophaned name! And are thefe feemely companie for thee, Degenerate monfter? all the reft I know, [324] And hate all knowledge, for their hatefull fakes. Are you, that firft the deities infpir'd With skill of their high natures, and their powers, 5-6 [Ovid and the rest kneel. G, N 35 13 S.D.] om. Q He] om. 19 Exeunt. Q [Exeunt Tueea and 32 [To Julia. G, N |