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AUSONII LUDUS septem Sapientum.

The Prologue.

Enter
Comedian.
Athenian Solon, Fame sings, wrot at Delphis
Τνωθι σεαυτον; whose sense Know thy selfe, is:
But this to Spartan Chilon most assign.
Some question Chilon, whether this be thine,
Τελον μακρου βιου, The close
Of a long life regard: but most suppose
That Solon this to Lydian Crœsus spake.
From Lesbian Pittacus this motto take,
Γιγνωσκειν; that's Know time: But he
By Καιο, here means opportunity.
Οι πλειστοι ()κοι, Bias, did proceed
From thee; that is, Most men are ill. Take heed
You not mistake him; for by ill men here
He means the ignorant: The next you hear
Is Periander's Μελετητ();
That is, Thought's All in All; a Thoughtfull Man!
But Lyndian Cleobulus does protest
Αστον Μετρον Mean in All is best.
Thales, εγτυα, παρεστι δ' ατη cries.
Upon a Surety present damage lies.
But this, 'for those who gain by it, to tell,
May 'chance displease: Now Solon comes farewell.

Exit.
Enter
Solon.
[Exit.

Enter
Chilon.
My Hips with sitting, Eyes with seeing ake,
Expecting when Solon an End would make.
How little and how long your Atticks prate!
Scarce in three-hundred lines one word of weight,
Or a grave sentence, how he lookt on me
At going off?—Now Spartan Chilon see!
Who with Laconian Brevity commends
To you the Knowledge of your selves, kind Friends!
Γνωθι σεαυον carv'd in a Delphos Fane.
'Tis a hard Work, but recompenc'd with Gain.
Try your own strength; examine what 'tis you
Have done already, what you ought to do.
All Duties of our life, as Modestie,
Honour and Constancie included be
In this, and glory, which we yet despise.
Farewell, your claps I not respect nor prize.

[Exit.
Enter
Cleobulus.
I Cleobulus, though my Native Seat
Be a small Isle, am Author of a great
And glorious Sentence; Μετρον αιστον;
A man is best: You Sirs that sit upon
The fourteen middle Benches next unto
Th'Orchestra, best may judge if this be true.
Your Nodd showes your assent: We thank you; but
We shall proceed in Order: Was it not
One Afer (who a man of your own Clime is)
That said once in this place, Ut ne quid Nimis?
And hither does our Μεδεν αγαν aime.
The Dorick and the Latine mean the same.
In speaking being silent, or in sleep,
In good Turns, or in bad, a mean still keep,
In study, or what ever you intend.
I've said, and that I mean, I keep here end.

[Exit.
Enter
Thales.
I'm Thales, who maintain (as Pindar sings)
Water to be the best and first of things.
To whom by Phœbus Mandate, fishers brought
A golden Tripod, which they fishing caught,
By him as present to the wisest meant,
Which I refus'd, and unto others sent
In knowledge my superiors as I thought.
From one to th'other of the Sages brought
By them again return'd, to me it came,
Who to Apollo consecrate the same.
For Since to seek the wisest, he enjoyn'd,
I Judge no man but God by that design'd.
Now on the stage (as those before) I come
T'assert the truth of my own Axiom.
Perhaps by some t'may be offensive thought:
But not by those by sad experience taught.
Ε'γ()υα παρεσι δ' ατη, say we.
Be Surety, and be sure a loser be.
A thousand Instances I could produce
To prove Repentance is the only use
That can be made of it, but that we here
Examples by their Names to cite, forbear.
Make your own Application, and conceive
The Damage, Men by this sole act receive.
Nor this our good intention take amisse,
You that like, clap, you that dislike it, hisse.

Enter
Bias.
I am Priænean Bias, who once taught
Οι πλ()στοι ()οι, That most men are naught.
I wish't had been unspoke; for Truth gains Hate.
But by bad men I mean illiterate,
And those who barbarously all Lawes confound,
Religion, Justice; for within this Round
I see none but are good: believe all those
Whom I proclaim for bad amongst your Foes:
Yet there is none so partially apply'd
To favour Vice, but with the good will side:
Whether he truly be such, or would fain
Of a good man the Reputation gain:
The hated name of an ill man all shun.
Then (most good Men) your praise, and I ha' done.

Enter
Pittacus.
I'm Pittacus, who once this Maxime penn'd,
Γιγνωκειν That's, time apprehend.
But by Time we meant Time in Season, as
In tempore veni is your Roman Phrase.
And your own Comick Poet Terence, he,
Chief of all things makes opportunity,
Where Dromo comes unto Antiphila.
I'th nick of Time; consider what I say,
And mark how great an inconvenience
Most suffer through this want of providence.
But now 'tis more then time we should be gon;
Farewell, and give your Aprobation.

[Exit.
Enter
Periander.
Now on the Stage see Periander move!
He who once said, and what he said will prove
Μελετη το παν. Thought is all in all.
Since him a perfect Agent we may call,
Who first considers what he undergoes;
For we should still forecast, as Terence showes,
Th'event of businesse, whether good or bad,
E'r w'undertake it: where may best be had
Conveniency for planting, where to build,
When to wage War, and when to pitch a Field:
Nor inconsiderately take in hand
Or great, or small Things, for that makes a stand
In the free progresse of all new designes;
In which there's nothing policy enjoynes
Like consultation; hence we see it cleer,
Who use it not, by chance, not counsell steer,
But I retire, whilst you with better Fate
Imploy your Thoughts how to uphold your State: