University of Virginia Library

1. The first Volume.

Out of his Elegies.

Sprung from Mnemosyne and Joves great line,
Pierian Muses, to my prayer encline,
Grant that my life and actions may call down
Blessings from heaven, and raise on earth renown:
Sweet to my friends, and bitter to my foes,
To these my sight bring terror, joy to those.
Riches I wish, not riches that are plac't
In unjust means, for vengeance comes at last.
Riches dispenc'd by heavens more bounteous hand,
A base on which we may unshaken stand.
But that which men by injuries obtain,
That which by arts and deeds unjust they gain
Comes slowly, swiftly by reveng'd pursued,
And miserie like a close spark include,
Which soon to a devouring flame dilates,
Wrong is a weak foundation for effates.
Jove doth the end of every thing survey:
As sodain vernall blasts chase clouds away.
Ransack the bottom of the roaring main,
Then swiftly overrun the fervile plain,
Ruffling the wealthy ears; at last they rise
To Joves high seat, a calm then smooths the skies.
The Sun's rich lustre mildly gilds the green
Enamell of the meads, no clouds are seen,
Such is Joves heavie anger diff'ring far
From men, whose every trifle leads to war:
They are not hid for ever, who offend
In secret, judgment finds them in the end.
Some in the act are punisht, others late,
Even he who thinks he hath deluded fate;
At last resents it in just miseries,
Which Nephewes for their Ancestors chastise.
We think it fares alike with good and bad;
Glory and selfe-conceit our fancies glad
Till suffering comes, then their griev'd spirits bleed,
Who did before their soules with vain hope feed.
He whom incurable diseases seize,
Sooths his deluded thoughts, with hopes of ease.
The coward's valiant in his own esteem,
And to themselves, faire the deformed seem.
They who want means, by poverty opprest
Beleeve themselves of full estates possest.
All is attempted, some new seas explore
To bring home riches from a forraign shore:
Seas, on whose boisterous back secur'd they ride,
And in the mercy of the winds confide:
Others to crooked ploughes their Oxen yoke,
And Autumn with their plants and setts provoke.
Some Vulcan's and Minerva's arts admire,
And by their hands, their livelyhoods acquire.
Others the fair Olympian muses trace,
And lovely learning studiously embrace.
One by Apollo is prophetick made,
And tells what mischiefs others shall invade:
With him the Gods converse, but all the skill
In birds or victimes cannot hinder ill.
Some to Peonian knowledge are inclin'd,
Nor is the power of simples unconfin'd.
The smallest hurts sometimes increase and rage,
More then all art of physick can asswage;
Sometimes the fury of the worst disease,
The hand by gentle stroking will appease.
Thus good or bad arives as fates design,
Man cannot what the Gods dispenc'd decline.
All actions are uncertain, no man knowes
When he begins a work, how it shall close.
Some, who their businesse weigh with prudent care,
Oft of the issue intercepted are:
Whilst others who have rashly ought design'd,
An end successfull of their labours find.
There is no bound to those who wealth acquire,
For they who are possest of most, desire
As much again, and who can all content,
Even those full blessings which the Gods have lent,
Man variously to his own harm applies,
Whom Jove by means as various doth chastice.

Again.

[Our City never can subverted be]

Our City never can subverted be
By Jove, or any other Deitie;
For Pallas eye surveyes with pious care
The wals, which by her hand protected are:
Yet the inhabitants of this great Town,
Fondly inclin'd to wealth, will throw it down;
And those unjust great persons who are bent
Others to wrong, themselves to discontent;
For their insatiate fancies have not power
T enjoy the sweetnesse of the instant hower;
But by all wicked means, intent on gain,
From hallowed, nor from publick things refrain.
Riches by theft and cozenage to possesse,
The sacred bounds of justice they transgresse.
Who silent sees the present, knowes the past,
And will revenge these injuries at last:
Causing a cureless rupture in the state,
And all our liberties shall captivate.
Rouse war from his long slumber, who the flower
Of all our youths shall bloodily devour.
For Cities which injuriously oppose
Their friends, are soon invaded by their foes.
These are the common evills; of the poor
Many transported to a forraign shore,
To bondage there, and fetters shall be sold.
Each private house thus shares the publick fate,
Nor can exclude it with a bar'd-up gate;
For scaling furiously the higher walls,
On those whom beds or corners hides, it falls.
My soule, Athenians, prompts me to relate
What miseries upon injustice wait:
But justice all things orderly designes,
And in strict fetters the unjust confines.
What's soure, she sweetens, and allaies what cloyes.
Wrong she repells, ill in the grouth destroyes,
Softens the stubborn, the unjust reformes,
And in the state calmes all seditious stormes:
Bitter dissention by her raign supprest,
Who wisely governes all things for the best.

Another.

[No man is blessed, bad is every one]

No man is blessed, bad is every one
That feeles the warmth of the all-seeing Sun.

Another.

[Let me not die unpitti'd, every friend]

Let me not die unpitti'd, every friend
With sighes and tears my latest hower attend.

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:

THE CLOVDS of Aristophanes.

Added (not as a Comicall divertisement for the Reader, who can expect little in that kind from a subject so antient, and particular, but) as a necessary supplement to the life of Socrates.

Act 1.

Scen. 1.

Strepsiades, Phidippides, Servant.
Streps.
Oh, oh,
Great Jove, how long a night is this, how endlesse!
Will't neer be day? I heard the Cock again,
Yet still my servantssnore; 'tis but of late
They durst do thus: curse o'this war that awes me,
And will not suffer me to beat the Rogues.
My good Son sleeps too, wrapt ore head and ears:
Well, let me try to bear them company;
Alasse, I cannot, so perplext and tortur'd
With charges, bills for Horse-meat, interest:
All for this hopefull Son, who in's curl'd locks,
Aides matches, keeps his Coach, and dreames of Horses,
Whilst I (unhappy!) see th'unwelcome Moon
Bring on the Quarter day, and threaten use-mony.
Boy, snuffe the light, bring my account-book hither,
That I may summe my debts and interest:
Let's see, twelve pound to Pasia; ha! twelve pound
To Pasia, how laid out? to buy Coppatia:
Would I had paid this eye for him.

Phid.
Hold Philo,
You'r out of the way, begin again.

Strep.
I this,
This is the misery that ruines me;
His very sleeps are taken up with Horses.

Phid.
How many courses will the manage hold.

Streps.
Many a weary course thou leads thy Father:
But how much more owe I then this to Pasia?
Three pound t'Amynias for Chariot wheeles.

Phid.
Go sirrah, take that horse and turn him out.

Streps.
I thou hast turned me out of all my means,
Charges at Law will eat me up, my Creditours
Threaten to sue me to an execution.

Phid.
Why do you wake all night, and tosse so Father?

Streps.
I cannot sleep, the Scrivener doth so bite me.

Phid.
Yet let me rest a little longer.

Streps.
Do so.
All these will one day light upon thy head,
Curs'd be the houre when I first saw thy Mother,
I liv'd before most sweetly in the Country,
Well stock't with Sheep and Bees, Olives and Grapes,
Till from the Megaclean house I took
This Neece of Megacles out of the City,
Well fashion'd, highly bred, and richly cloathed;
We married, as I said, and lay together:
I smelling strong of Drugs and greasie Wool;
But she of Unguents, Crocus wanton Kisses,
Of vain expence, dainties, and luxury;
I will not tell the idle life she led,
And yet she spun that I have often told her,
Showing this Coat, you spin a fair thread woman.

Serv.
Sir, all the Oyle ith' Lamp is wasted.

Streps.
Ha?
Why didst thou put in such a Drunken week?
If thou wert neer me I would beat thee.

Ser.
Why Sir?

Streps.
Because the week is thicker then the oyl.
Well, at last my good Wife and I betwixt us got
At last this Son; about his name we differ'd;
Shee'd have it something that belong'd to horses,
Callippides, Xanthippus, or Charippus;
I from his Grandfather) Phidonides.
Long time we wrangled thus, at last agreed
He should be called Phidippides; this Son
She takes, and stroaking kindly, thus instructs him,
“When thou art grown a man, frequent the City,
“Follow the fashion, keep a Coach and Horses,
“Like Megacles thy Uncle. No, said I,
“Go in a homely Coat, and drive thy Goats
“Into Phelleus, as thy father doth.
But my advice prevailed so little on him,
That now he wasts my means in keeping horses,
Which all this night I have been thinking how
To remedy, and now have found the way;
To which could I perswade him, I were happy.
Phidippides, Phidippides,

Phid.
Your will Sir.

Streps.
Kisse me, give me thy hand.

Phid.
Here Sir.

Streps.
Dost love me?

Phid.
By Neptune God of Horses.

Streps.
Do not name
That God, for 'tis from him springs all my sorrow:
But if thou lov'st me truly, heartily,
O son be rul'd.

Phid.
In what should I be rul'd?

Streps.
Change without more delay thy course of life,
And do as I would have thee.

Phid.
What is that?

Streps.
But wilt thou do it?

Phid.
Yes by Bacchus will I.

Streps.
Come hither then, seest thou that little dore?
That is the Phrontistherium of wise soules,
Of learned men, that tell us Heaven's an Oven,
And we the Coles inclosed in the wide arch,
They, if we give 'em but a little mony,
Will teach us gain all causes, right or wrong.

Phid.
Who can these be?

Streps.
Their names I know not good
They are, and busied in continuall study.

Phid.
Oh now I know the wretches that you mean,
The meager, wan, proud, bare-foot, begging fellowes,
Whose evill Geniuss's are Socrates
And Chærephen.

Streps.
Peace, talk no more so idly;
If you'l obey a father, let me see you
Give ore your horses, and turn one of these.

Phid.
Not I, by Bacchus, no though you should tempt me
With all Leogoras his breed of Racers.

Streps.
Dear son be rul'd and learn.

Phid.
What should I learn?

Streps.
'Tis said they have two tongues, and one of them
Able to prove any injustice reason;
Couldst thou but learn that language, we were made,
And might dispute our stubborn Creditours
Out of the debts I have incurr'd for thee;
They get not then a penny more then words.

Phid.
I cannot do't, were I so lean and Pale,
I durst not look a Jocky in the face.

Streps.
By Ceres then you stay with me no longer,
You, nor your Coach-horse, nor your Samphoras,
But all together pack out of my dores.
My Uncle Megacles will neither see
Me nor my horses want, so long I care not.

Exit.

Scene 2.

Strepsiades, Scholar.
Streps.
Though I have fail'd, i'l not give over thus,
But say my prayers, and go my self to school
To learn this Art: but how can I, by Age
Dull and forget full, reach such subtleties?
Yet on I will, why should I doubt? ho, friend.

Schol.
A mischief on you, who's that knocks at dore?

Streps.
Strepsiades, Cecinnian Phædo's Son.

Schol.
'Twas rudely done to knock so hard, y'have made
My labouring brain miscarry of a Notion.

Streps.
Forgive me, I was bred far off ith' Country:
But pray what notion was't that prov'd abortive?

Schol.
'Tis lawfull to discover that tonone
But fellow-scholars.

Streps.
Then you may tell me,
For I come hither to be one of you.

Schol.
I will; so will value't as a mysterie.
Socrates t'other day ask'd Chærephon
How many of her feet a flea could leap,
For one by chance had bit Chærephons eyebrow,
And leap'd from thence upon the head of Socrates.

Streps.
How could he measure this?

Schol.
Most dexterously.
Both feet oth' flea he dipt in melting wax,
Which strait congeals to shooes; these he plucks off,
And with them most exactly measures it.

Streps.
Great Jupiter, how subtle are these wits!

Schol.
If you shouldst hear their other speculations,
You would say so indeed.

Streps.
Pray what was that?

Schol.
This Charæphon the Sphettian ask'd him once,
If a Gnat sounded from her mouth or tail.

Streps.
And what said he?
It had a strait thin gut,
At end of it a bladder, into which
The air being forc'd, sounded in breaking forth.

Streps.
Then I perceive that a gnat's tail's a Trumpet;
How blest is this Anatomist of Gnats!
Sure he can hide himself from purblind justice,
That knows so well these dark intestine waies.
Why should we cry up Thales any longer?
Come open me your Phrontisterium,
And quickly let me see this Socrates,
I long to learn, open the dore,—O Hercules
What strange beasts have we here!

Schol.
Why do you wonder?
Whom do they look like think you?

Streps.
Like the poor
Lacedæmonian Captives tane at Pylus.
Why look they so intently on the ground?
These seek out things that appertain to Earth!
Oh they seek leeks; trouble your selves no more friends,
For I know better where are good and great ones.

Schol.
Come let's go in.

Streps.
Let's stay a while and talk with 'em.

Schol.
No, no, they cannot long endure the air.

Streps.
What's this, for Heavens sake say?

Schol.
This is Astronomy.

Streps.
And this?

Schol.
Geometry.

Strop.
But what is't good for?

Schol.
To measure land:

Streps.
What, arable or pasture?

Schol.
No, the whole Earth.

Streps.
A pretty jest indeed.
That were a mighty help to husbandmen.

Schol.
Here's all the world, and this is Athens.

Streps.
How?
I'l scarce believe that, what's become oth' Judges?
Where the Cicynians my Countymen?

Schol.
Here; this Eubæa; see how far 'tis stretch'd.

Streps.
I, almost stretch'd in pieces betwixt us,
And Pericles; and where is Lacedæmon?

Schol.
Here.

Strepss.
'Tis too nigh us, why, with all your skill
Do you not help to thrust it farther off.

Schol.
It is not possible.

Streps.
No? you will rue't then.
But what man's that hangs yonder in the basket?

Schol.
That's he.

Streps.
He, what he?

Schol.
Socrates.

Streps.
How, Socrates?
Call him.

Schol.
Call him your self, I'm not at leasure.

Scene 3.

Strepsiades, Socrates.
Streps.
Ho Socrates

Socr.
Why dost thou call me mortall?

Streps.
First I would gladly know what thou dost there?

Socr.
I walk ith' aire, and gaze upon the Sun.

Streps.
Why in a basket dost thou view the Gods,
Not from the ground?

Socr.
I could not elevate
My thoughts to contemplation of these mysteries,
Unlesse my Intellect were thus suspended,
Where my thin thoughts melt into air (their likeness)
Stood I upon the ground, I should find nothing,
Though I sought nere so strictly up and down,
For the magnetick vertue of the Earth
Would draw away the humour of my brain,
Just as we see in nose-smart.

Streps.
How, hows that?
Doth the brain draw the humour out of nose-smart?
Come down, sweet Socrates, and teach me quickly
The knowledge of those things for which I came.

Socr.
What camest thou for?

Streps.
To learn the art of speaking,
With debts and usury I'm torn in pieces
Tost up and down; forc'd to pawn all my goods:

Socr.
On what occasion did you run in debt?

Streps.
By horses eaten into this consumption;
And I would learn of you your other language
Which teacheth men to pay nothing: for which
By all the Gods i'l give you what you'l ask.

Socr.
By all what Gods? we do not here allow
Those Gods the City worships.

Streps.
How then swear you,
By copper farthings like the Byzantines?

Socr.
Wouldst thou be skilfull in divine affairs.

Streps.
By Jove (if any such there be) I would.

Socr.
You must be then acquainted with the Clouds,
Our reverend Goddesses.

Streps.
With all my heart.

Socr.
Sit down upon this Couch then

Streps.
Well.

Socr.
Now take
This Garland.

Streps.
Why a garland? alasse Socrates,
D'ee mean (like Athamas) to sacrifice me?

Socr.
No, these are rites that every one performes
At his admission.

Streps.
But what shall I gain by?

Socr.
Thou shallt be made most voluble in speech,
A very rattle, bolting words as fine
As flower.

Streps.
Th'art right by Jove, I shall be powderd.

Socr.
silence old man, and listen to our prayer.
“Great King, unbounded air, whose armes are hurld
“About the surface of this pendant world,
“Bright Æther, reverend Clouds, that from your Spheas
“Thunder and lightning dart, rise and appear.

Streps.
Not yet, not yet, till I have wrapt my selfe
Close in my Cloak, lest I be wet: twas ill
That I forgat to bring my Riding hood.

Socr.
“Your power, great Clouds, make to this suppliant known
“Whether now seated on Olympus Throne,
“Or whether you your sacred revells keep
“In the wide Gardens of your Sire the deep:
“Or of his flowing Christall seaven-mouth'd Nile,
“In golden Ewers wantonly beguile:
“Or in Mauritian marshes keep your Court;
“Or on the snowy top of Mimas sport.
“Come, to our servant vowes propitious be;
“Grace with your presence our solemnitie.
“We humid fleeting Deities,
“The bright unbounded clouds thus rise
“From our old Sire, the grumbling Flood,
“Above the tallest hill or wood,
“To those high watch-towers, whence we may
“The hallowed fruitfull-ground survey;
“Rivers that in soft murmurs glide,
“And the lowd sea's rebellious tide;
“From thence heavens restlesse eye displaies
“The splendour of his glorious raies,
“Chasing all dusky mists, that we
“In shapes divine may mortalls see.

Socr.
Thanks reverend Clouds for favouring thus our prayer.
Did you not hear'm speak in Thunder to us?

Streps.
Great Clouds, I worship too, but am so frighted,
I scarce can hold from answering your Thunder.

Socr.
Jest not profanely in such sacred rites:
Peace, for the swarm of Goddesses come singing.

Chor.
“Come virgin Mistresses of showers,
“Let's visit Pallas pregnant bowers,
“The far renowned Cecroplan plain
“Where shines the Eleusinian Fane,
“Where are the most retir'd aboads,
“Statues and Temples of the Gods:
“Where Altars blaze with Incense, where
“The holy-day lasts all the year;
“Where the brisk Craces every spring,
“And youths with virgins dance and sing.

Streps.
Tell me good Socrates, what things are these
That speak so finely? are they Ladies?

Socr.
No,
They're Clouds, the Deities of idle men;
From these we have our sense, discourse, and reason,
Our high Capriccio's, and elaborate whimseys.

Streps.
My soul, me thought, did leap, while they were speaking,
And now most subtly would dispute of smoak,
Sharply confute opinion with opinion:
Oh how I long to see them once again.

Socr.
Look yonder towards Parnes, look how gently
They glide to earth.

Streps.
Where? show me.

Socr.
See in sholes
They creep into the Caverns of the Mountain.

Streps.
What things are these? I cannot yet behold 'em.

Socr.
There in the entrance look.

Streps.
Yet I scarce see them.

Socr.
Either thou seest them now, or thou art blind.

Streps.
I do by Jove, great Clouds, for you hold all!

Socr.
Didst thou not know these Deities before?

Streps.
Not I, I thought them only mists and vapours:

Socr.
Thou knewest not then those who maintain the Sophists.

Streps.
If these be Clouds, how comes it that they look
Like women? for the Clouds have no such shape.

Socr.
No, what shape have they then?

Streps.
I know not justly;
They look like flying fleeces, but by Jove,
Nothing at all like women; these have noses.

Socr.
Answer to what I ask.

Streps.
Ask me quickly.

Socr.
Didst ere behold a Cloud shap'd like a Centaure,
A Leopard, Bull, or Wolfe?

Streps.
I have, what then?

Socr.
The Clouds can take what form they list, as when
They see a hairy fellow curl'd like Clitus,
They mock his madnesse in a Centaures shape.

Streps.
And when they see one that defrauds or plunders
The Common-wealth, like Sinon, what then do they?

Socr.
They do resemble him, turn ravenous wolves,
This was the reason yesterday, when they
Beheld Cleonymus, they fled like deer:
And seeing Clisthenes are now turn'd women.

Streps.
Great Queens, if you ere design to speak to mortalls,
Make me acquainted with your rumbling voice.

Chor.
“All hail old man, who dost on wisdome prey,
“And thou the Priest of subtle trifles say,
“What wouldst thou have with us, to none but thee,
“Of all the Meteor Sophists thus stoop we;
“Save Prodicus, to him as grave and wise,
“To thee, because thou walkst upright, thy eyes
“Rowling on every side, thy look severe
“And barefoot many miseries dost bear.

Streps.
Good heavens, what voice is this, how strange & stately.

Socr.
These are our Goddesses, the rest are toyes.

Streps.
Is then Olympian Jove no Deity?

Socr.
What Jove? there's no such thing; meer fancy.

Streps.
How?
Whence then proceeds all rain?

Socr.
Only from these.
Didst thou ere see a shower without them? take
The Clouds away, and heaven must rain fair weather.

Streps.
By Phœbus thou hast cleer'd it well, till now
I thought Jove made water through a sive.
But whence comes thunder? when I'me sick, that frights me,
These thunder as they tumble up and down.
How can that be?

Socr.
When they are full of water,
By their own weight, driven upon one another,
They roar and break.

Streps.
But who is it that drives them,
Is not that Jove?

Socr.
No, an ætheriall whirlewind.

Streps.
A whirle-wind, hum! I knew not that til now.
But whence comes lightning then, that glittering fire
Which terrifies and burns us? Jupiter
Useth to dart this down on perjur'd men.

Socr.
And how (thou phlegmatick, dull Saturnine,)
If darted on the perjur'd, how comes Sinon,
Theorus, and Cleonymus to 'scape it?
No, his own Temple, or the Sunian Promontory,
Or sturdy Oakes he strikes, did they ere wrong him?
Did the Oak ere forswear it selfe?

Streps.
I know not:
That which you say seems reasons; but what then
Is lightning?

Socr.
When the winds are shut up close,
They swell the clouds like bladders, and at last
Break out with violence and horrid noises;
And by contrition kindle one another.
But thou who searchest amongst us for wisdom,
How happy wilt thou be above all Græcians
If thou conceive well, and remember, and
Canst suffer much, and never wilt be tir'd
Standing or walking, nor have sense of frost,
Nor care for dyning, and refrain from wine,
From exercises, and all other toyes.

Streps.
O for a solid soul restlesse with cares,
Sparing, self-torturing, one that can feast
Upon a dish of herbes, you never could
Be better fitted; a meer an vile I.

Socr.
Dost thou believe no Gods but those we teach,
The Chaos, Clouds and Tongue, onely these three.

Streps.
I'l not so much as speak of any other,
Much lesse bestow an offering on their Altars.

Chor.
“Say boldy then, say what is thy request,
“For if thou honour us thou shalt be blest.

Streps.
Great Queens I sue for a small matter, that
I may out-talk all Greeks a hundred furlongs.

Chor.
“To thee alone this gift we will allow,
“None speak such mighty sentences as Thou.

Streps.
I do not care for mighty sentences,
But subtle ones to cheat my Creditours.

Chor.
“It is not much thou askst, and shalt obtain it,
“Learn of our Ministers and thou shalt gain it.

Streps.
I shall, relying on your promise; forc'd
By want, Coppatia and a lucklesse match.
Now let'em use me as they list, beat, starve me,
Burn, freeze, or flea me, so I scape my debts:
I care not though men call me impudent,
Smooth-tongu'd, audacious, petulant, abhominable,
Forger of words and lie, contentious Barretour,
Old, winding, bragging, testy, crafty fox.

Socr.
Said like a man of courage: if thou learn
Of me, thy fame shall spread wide as the Heavens.

Streps.
What shall I do?

Socr.
Thou shalt spend all thy time
With me; a life the happiest in the world.

Streps.
I long to see that day.

Socr.
Thy dore shall alwaies
Be throng'd with Clients that will come to thee
For Counsell, and discourse of cases worth
The wealth of kingdoms, to thy hearts desire.

Chor.
“Try this old man; first see if he be fit;
“Put him toth' test, and sound the depth of's wit.

Socr.
Come tell me now your disposition,
That when I know it I may fit my Machines
Accordingly.

Streps.
You will not undermine me.

Socr.
No, I would know if you have any memory.

Streps.
Yes, when another owes me any thing,
I can remember very well, but what
I owe my self, i'm ready to forget.

Socr.
Hast thou a naturall faculty in speaking

Streps.
No, I can mar words sooner far then make 'em.

Socr.
How wilt thou learn then?

Streps.
Fear me not, I tell you
Wel, when I make some learned deep discourse.

Socr.
You must be sure to catch't up presently.

Streps.
What must I snap at learning like a dog?

Socr.
This is a very fool, an unknown Clown;
I am afraid old man thou wilt need whipping.
What if thou shouldst be beaten?

Streps.
Then i'm beaten.

Socr.
But what wouldst do?

Streps.
I would take witnesse on't
And sue them on an action of Battery.

Socr.
Off with your Cloak.

Streps.
Why, how have I offended?

Socr.
No; but our orders admit none but naked.

Streps.
I came not hither to steal any thing.

Socr.
Down with your Cloak, why dost thou trifle.

Streps.
Now
Tell me if I prove apt and diligent,
Of all your schollars who shall I come nighest?

Socr.
Thou maist perhaps be like our Chærephon.

Streps.
Alasse, alasse! what an Anatomy?

Socr.
No, no: but if thou wilt be any thing,
Follow me without more delay.

Streps.
I want
A Cake for your Cerberus; I go me thinks
As if'twere into the Trophonian Cave.

Socr.
On, on, why stayst thou gazing at the dore.

Chor.
“Go, for thy courage blest whose aged mind
“To wisdom soars, and leaves the young behind.

Exeunt.

Act. 2.

Socrates, Strepsiades.
Socr.
By Chaos, and this air I breath, I never
Met any thing so stupid as this fellow,
So clownish and oblivious; easie toyes
He learns, not half so fast as he forgets 'em,
I'l call him forth; what, ho, Strepsiades;
Come out and bring your bed along with you.

Str.
The fleas will hardly let me bring my self.

So.
Quick, down with't there; and mark what I say to you.

Str.
I'm ready.

So.
What have you most mind to learn,
Measures, or Verse, or Rhyme?

Str.
By all means measures;
For I was cheated by a Meal man lately
Two pecks.

So.
That's not the thing I demand;
I'de know which you conceive the fairest measure,
The Trimeter or the Tetrameter.

Str.
The fairest measure in my mind's a Bushell.

So.
'Tis nothing that you say.

Str.
What will you lay
That your Tetrameter holds not a Bushell.

So.
Away, away, how dull thou art, and blockish.
But thou wilt be perhaps more apt at Rime.

Str.
What help can rimes afford me in my meal.

So.
First they wil make thee pleasant in all company.
Then thou shalt know which suits with Anapæstick,
And which with Dacty les.

Str.
Dactiles? I know that sure.

So.
Why what's a Dactyle.

Str.
What, but this same finger,
'Thas been a Dactyle ere since I was a child.

So.
Th'art an unprofitable Dunce.

Str.
I care not
For learning these devices:

So.
What then wouldst thou?

Str.
That, that unjust and cheating Sophistry.

So.
But there are things that must be learnt before
You come to that; what Creatures are there Masculine.

Str.
Sure I know that or I were mad indeed.
A Ram, a Bull, a Goat, a Dog, a Pigeon.

So.
See how thou err'st, that call'st both male and female
A Pigeon.

Str.
Right, by Neptune, how then must I?

So.
Call this a Cock, Pigeon, and that a Hen.

Str.
A Pigeon, Cock and Hen, ha! by this air,
For this sole document, I will replenish
Your Cardopus with meal.

So.
Again th'art wrong;
Thou call'st it Cardopus, but 'tis hæc Cardopus,
And therefore henceforth call it Cardopa.
Next it is fit you know which names are Masculine,
And which are feminine.

Str.
I know well which
Are feminine, I'me sure.

So.
Lets hear.

Str.
Philina,
Cletagora, Demetria, and Lystha.

So.
And which are Masculine?

Str.
A world, Philoxenus,
Milesias, and Amynias.

So.
Thou art out.

Str.
Are not these Masculine with you?

So.
By no means.
How if you saw Amynias, would you call him?

Str.
Amynia, ho!

So.
What, make a woman of him.

Str.
And reason good, h'has thrown away his armes,
And will not fight. But to what purpose learn I
These common trifles.

So.
Not so common neither,
But come, lie down.

Str.
What must I do?

So.
Consider
With your selfe the businesse that concernes you.

Str.
Not in this bed, I thank you, if I must
Lie down, Ile meditate upon the ground.

So.
But heres no room besides.

Str.
Wretch that I am.
How I shall be tormented with these fleas!

So.
Now think into the depth of thy affairs,
Try every turn and winding, every double;
And if you stick at any thing: give't ore,
And to some other; but be sure you sleep not.

Str.
Oh, oh.

So.
How now the matter?

Str.
I am kill'd
By these blood-suckers, these Corinthians.

So.
Do not torment your selfe.

Str.
How can I choose
When I have neither mony left, nor colour,
Scarce life, no shooes, grown almost to a Ghost
With watching?

So.
Now what think y'on, nothing?

Str.
Yes
By Neptune.

So.
What?

Str.
I'me thinking if the fleas
Will leave a piece of me or not.

So.
Death on thee.

Str.
You might have spar'd your curse, I'm dead already.

So.
Fy, fy, you must not be so tender, cover
Your face, and study for some subtle cheat.

Str.
Would I could learn to cheat these wicked fleas.

So.
Let's see what does he? what, asleep, ha'ye thought
Of nothing yet?

Str.
What would you have me think on?

So.
What would you learn?

Str.
I've told you that already
A thousand times; I'd learn to pay no use-mony.

So.
Come then, cover your self, and subtilize
Your thoughts, diffect your businesse into Atomes.

Str.
Alasse.

So.
Ly still; and if you stick at anything,
Passe by't a while, and come to it again.

Str.
Ho, my dear Socrates.

So.
What is't old man?

Str.
I have found out that will do't.

So.
As how.

Str.
First tell me
Where I may meet with some Thessalian witch;
For I would steal the Moon one of these nights,
And having got her, lock her in a chest
As charily, as I would keep a glasse.

So.
What wilt thou get by that?

Str.
What, if the Moon
Ne'r rise again, I'me bound to pay no use.

So.
How so?

Str.
'Cause use you know is paid by th'Month.

So.
'Tis well, but I'le propound another businesse;
Suppose that you were tyed upon a statute
To pay five Talents, could you rase figures?

Str.
I know not, but I'le try.

So.
You must not limit
Your thoughts so narrowly within your selfe,
But like a beetle fetter'd in a thread,
Allow them play and flutter in the air.

Str.
I ha't, I ha't, the rarest way to cancell
A deed, as you'l confesse when you have heard it.

So.
What is't?

Str.
Did you nere see at any Grocers
A clear transparant stone, with which they use
To kindle fire?

So.
You mean a burning-glasse.

Stro.
The very same.

So.
What wouldst thou do with it?

Str.
Whilst that the Scrivener writes the deed, d'ee mark,
Thus standing by him with my burning-glasse
Against the Sun, I'l burn out every letter.

So.
Wisely by all the Graces.

Str.
How I long
To cancell thus a bond of fifty pound.

So.
'Tis well, now tell me if thy adversary
Sue thee, and thou art like to be orethrown
For want of witnesses, how wilt thou void
His suit.

Str.
Most easily.

So.
Which way?

Str.
Before
It comes to judgement, I would hang my self.

So.
Push, thou sayst nothing.

Str.
Yes, by Iove there's none
Will prosecute a suit against the dead.

So.
Away, thou fool'st; i'l teach no more.

Str.
Why dear Socrates,
Why?

So.
Thou forget'st as fast as thou canst learn.
Tell me the first thing thou wert taught to day.

Str.
The first, stay let me see; the first thing say you?
How call you that we use to put our meal in?
Wretch, Iv'e forget it!

So.
See, deserv'st thou not
Forgetfull to be punish'd for a dunce,

Str.
Alasse what shall I do? for if I learn not
The cheating language, I am quite undone;
Good Clouds advise me what course I shall take.

Cho.
“If an ingenious son thou hast at home,
“Thou hadst best send him hither in thy room.

Str.
I have a son, and he's ingenious too;
But will not learn, the more my misery.

Cho.
And wilt thou suffer't?

Str.
Of a promising person
His mother is a woman of great spirit:
Once more Ile try; if he refuse, i'l make
No more adoe but turn him out of dores;
Stay but a while, I will be quickly back.

Act. 3.

Strepsiades, Phidippides, Socrates.
Str.
Now by the Clouds thou staist no longer here?
Hence, and go feed in Megacles his stable.

Ph.
Alasse what fury hath possest you Father?
By Jove I think you are besides your self.

Str.
See, see, he swears by Iove, art thou not mad
At these years to believe there is a Jove?

Ph.
Is truth to be derided?

Str.
Well I see
Th'art still a Child and credit'st old wives tales.
But come I will tell thee that shall make thee
A man, so you be sure to tell it nobody.

Ph.
Pretty; what is't?

Str.
Thou swor'st e'en now by Jove.

Ph.
I did so.

Str.
See how good it is to learn;
There's no such thing as Iove.

Ph.
What then?

Str.
A whirlwind
Hath blown Iove quite away and rules all Heaven.

Ph:
What fooleries are these?

Str.
They're serious truth son.

Ph.
Who tells you so?

Str.
Our Socrates the Melian,
And Chærephon, that trace the steps of fleas.

Ph.
How, are you grown to such a height of madness,
As to believe such melancholy dreamers.

Str.
Good words: defame not men of such deep wisdom
And subtle spirits; these live sparingly,
Are never at the charges of of a Barber,
Unguents, or Baths, whereas thou wasts my means
As freely as if I were dead already.
Come then, and be their scholler in my room.

Ph.
What can be learnt that's good of such as they are?

Str.
All things that are accompted wisdom Boy;
And first to know thy self, and what a dunce
Thou art, how blockish, rustick and forgetfull.
But stay a little, cover thy face a while.

Ph:
Alasse my fathers mad, what shall I do,
Accuse him to the Court of folly,
Bespeak a Coffin for him, for he talks
Idly, as he were drawing on?

Str.
Come on now.
Let's see, what that?

Ph.
A Pigeon.

Str.
Good; and that?

Ph.
A Pigeon.

Str.
Both the same? ridiculous.
Take heed you make not such mistakes hereafter.
This you must call a Cock, and that a Hen.

Ph.
A Hen? Is this the goodly learning Father
You got since your admission 'mongst these earth-wormes?

Str.
This and a great deal more; but being old,
I soon forget what I am taught.

Ph.
I think
'Twas want of memory made you lose your cloak.

Str.
No, 'tis hung up upon the arts and sciences:

Ph.
And where your shooes?

Str.
Lost for the common good,
Like Pericles: But lets be gone and see
You learn t'obey me, and to wrong all else.
Remember that I bought thee, when thou wert
But fix yeers old, a little Cart to play with.

Ph.
Alasse you'l be the first that will repent this.

Str.
Take you no care for that; do as I bid you.
Ho, Socrates, I've brought my son at last,
Though much against his will.

So.
I, that's because
He's rude, untaught, a child of ignorance,
And unacquainted with our hungry baskets.

Ph.
Go hang your self in one of them.

Str.
How impudence; dost thou talk thus to thy Master?

Socr.
So go hang, with what a seeming grace was that pronounc'd!
How do you think that he should ever learn
To overthrow a nimble adversary,
Or win a Judges heart with Rhetorick?

Str.
Fear not, but teach him; he's ingenious
By Nature; for when he was but a little one,
Hee'd build you houses, and make leather Coaches,
And ships, and cut frogs out of apple parings.
What's your opinion then? do you not think
Hee's capable to learn both languages?
Or if not both, be sure he learn the worse.

Socr.
Well, we shall try what may be done with him.

Str.
Farewell, and so remember that in all
I say that's just, you learn to contradict me.

Act. 4.

Scœn. 1.

Strepsiades.
Streps.
The fift, the fourth, the third, the second; hum.
The most abhord and dreadfull day's at hand,
The old and new; all I ow money to
Threaten to sue and vow my utter ruine;
Yet I require nothing but what is just reason:
My friend forbear me till some other time;
But they all answer me, words are no payment,
Revile me, swear they'l put their bonds in suit,
And let 'em, what care I, so my Phidippides
Have learnt the art of cheating: I shall know straight;
It is but knocking at the school, ho son.

Scœn. 2.

Strepsiades, Socrates.
Socr.
Save you Strepsiades.

Streps.
The like to you.
First take this bag of meal, for it is fit
We pay our duty to our reverend Master,
Now tell me, has my son attain'd the art
For which I plac'd him with you.

Socr.
Yes exactly.

Streps.
Thanks to deceit, the Queen that governs all things.

Socr.
Now you may overthrow all adversaries.

Streps.
What though a witnesse swear that I have borrowed.

Socr.
I though a thousand swear't.

Streps.
Iò. Iò.
Triumph my boyes, wo to you money-mongers,
You and your bonds, your use on use may hang now,
You'l trouble me no more! O what a son
Have I, that fenceth with a two-edg'd tongue,
My Houses prop and Guardian, my foes terrour,
Quickly come forth, and meet my glad embraces,
Come forth and hear thy Father.

Socr.
See the man.

Streps.
O my dear boy!

Socr.
Away and take him with you.

Scœne 3.

Strepsiades, Phidippides.
Streps.
Io my son! O how I joy to see
Thy chang'd complexion! Thou lookst now me thinks
As if thou wert inspir'd with contradiction
I read, crosse questions in thy very face,
Thy very eyes me thinks say, how, how's that?
Thou canst perswade the world that thou art wrong'd,
When thou art, he that does the wrong. I see't,
I plainly see't; a very Attick mine;
Now let it be thy study to recover
Him, whom thou almost hast undone.

Phid.
Why, what
Is that you fear?

Streps.
The old and the new day.

Phid.
Can one and the same day be old and new?

Streps.
I know that: I'm sure my Creditors
By joint consent that day threaten to sue me.

Phil.
They'l loose by it if they do: for 'tis impossible
To make two daies of one.

Streps.
How is't impossible?

Phil.
As for a woman to be old and young
At once.

Streps.
But law has so determined it

Phil.
But these men know not what the law doth mean.

Streps.
Why what's the meaning of it.

Phil.
Antient Solon
Was naturally a lover of the people.

Streps.
What's that to this?

Phid.
He did appoint two daies,
The last day of the old month for citation,
The first oth' new for payment of the money.

Streps.
But why the last day for citations?

Phil.
That
The debtor having th us one day of warning
Might fly and shun the trouble of the next.

So.
Why do the Magistrates then take all forfeits
Upon the old and new day?

Ph.
They are hungry,
And tast their meat before they should fall too.

Str.
We the fools that sit still and do nothing,
We that are wise and quick have done the businesse;
Ye blocks, ye stones, ye sheep, ye empty bubbles;
Let me congratulate this son of min
My selfe and my good fortune in a song.
“Now Strepsiades th'art blest
“Of the most discreet the best,
“What a Son thou hast, now may
“All my æmulous neighbours say,
“When they hear that he alone
“Hath my creditours orethrown.
But come my boy, now thou shalt feast with me.

Sect. 4.

Pasias, Strepsiades, Witnesse.
Pas.
And must a man be outed of his own thus?
Better take any course then suffer this.
You must assist me in this businesse neighbour,
That I may call my debtor to accompt;
There's one friend made a foe; yet I'le not shame
My country, ere I do't, I'le give him warning.
Strepsiades.

Streps.
How now, what would you have?

Pas.
The old and new daies come.

Streps.
Bear witnesse friend,
He nam'd two daies. What summe is't you demand.

Pas.
Twelve pounds you borrow'd when you bought your Son
A Race-horse; with the interest.

Streps.
A race-horse,
You know I neer car'd for 'em in my life.

Pas.
And swor'st by Jove and all the Gods to pay it.

Streps.
By Jove? 'twas then before my son had learn't
The all-convincing speech.

Pas.
You'l not deny't.

Streps.
What have I got but that, for all this learning?

Pas.
Darst thou deny't, if I should put thee to
Thy oath, and make thee call the Gods to witness it?

Streps.
What Gods de'e mean?

Pas.
Jove, Mercury, and Neptune.

Streps.
By Iove? yes that I will I hold thee three pence.

Pas.
Curse on thee for this impudence.

Streps.
If thou wert rubb'd with salt, 'twould make thy wit the quicker.

Pas.
De laugh at me?

Streps.
Thou wilt take up six bushells.

Pas.
So help me Jupiter, and all the Gods,
I will even be with you for this scorn.

Streps.
I am extreamly taken with your Gods,
And this same Iupiter you swear by, they
Are excellent pastime to a knowing man.

Pas.
Well, you will one day answer for these words.
But tell me, whether I shall have my money
Or not, give my answer, and I'me gone.

Streps.
Stay but a little, I will answer presently,
And plainly.

Pas.
Sure hee's gone to fetch the mony.

Streps.
Where is the Man that comes to ask me mony?
Tell me, what's this?

Pas.
That which it is, a Cardopus.

Streps.
You ask for mony, and so very a dunce;
I'le never whilst I live pay him a penny.
That calls a Cardopa a Cardopus.

Pas.
You will not pay then?

Streps.
Not for ought I know:
You'l stay no longer, pray about your businesse.

Pas.
Yes, I'le be gone, but in the mean time know
I'le have my mony, if I live this day.

Streps.
You may chance go without it; yet I'm sorry
You should be punish'd so for a mistake,
For saying Cardopus for Cardopa.

Scœn. 8.

Amynias, Strepsiades, Witnesse.
Amyn.
Oh, oh, alasse.

Streps.
Who's that keeps such a bawling?
What art thou? one of Carkinus his sons?

Amyn.
'I is I unhappy!

Streps.
Keep it to thy selfe.

Amyn.
Unlucky chance, oh cruell destiny,
To spoil at once my Cart and all my Horses!
Oh Pallas, how unkindly hast thou us'd me?

Streps.
What hurt did ere Tlepolemus do thee?

Amyn.
Deride me not, but rather bid your son
Pay me the mony which he had of me,
For I was never in more need of it.

Streps.
What mony man?

Amyn.
That which he borrowed of me.

Streps.
Then I perceive you're in a sad condition.

Am.
I had a scurvy fall driving my horses.

Streps.
Thou dost but jest, 'twas driving an Asse rather.

Amyn.
I do not jest when I demand my mony.

Streps.
Upon my word thou art not right.

Amyn.
How so?

Streps.
Thy brain me thinks is troubled.

Amyn.
Either pay me
My money strait, or I will trouble you.

Streps.
Tell me, doth Jove beget and send down rain,
Or doth the Sun exhale it from the sea?

Amyn.
I neither know nor care.

Streps.
What? are you fit
To receive mony, and so ignorant
Of these sublime and subtle mysteries.

Amyn.
Well, if you cannot let me have the principal,
Pay me the interest.

Streps.
Interest, what kind
Of creature's that?

Amyn.
What, but th'encrease of mony
By months, and daies, as time runs on.

Streps.
'Tis well.
And do you think the sea is fuller now
Then 'twas at first?

Amyn.
No, not a drop, it is
Not fit it should.

Streps.
The sea by your confession
Is nothing grown; then with what conscience
Can you desire your mony should encrease.
Go get you from my doores, fetch me a whip there.

Witn.
Well, I'le bear witnesse for him.

Streps.
Why de'e not go, will you move Sumphoras?

Amyn.
Is not this riotous?

Streps.
Will you be gone?
Or shall I lead you in a chain, and make you
Shew tricks? if you but stay a little longer,
I'le send you, and your Cart and Horses packing.

Chor.
“Now observe what 'tis to bend
“Studies to an evill end
“This old man, that is intent
“Creditours to circumvent,
“Foolishly himselfe hath crost,
“And will find so to his cost;
“That in this false Art his son
“Hath attain'd perfection:
“Justice cunning to refute)
“That at last hee'l wish him mute.

Act. 5.

Scene 1.

Strepsiades, Phidippides.
Streps.
O Neighbours, Kinsmen, Countrymen, help, help,
I'm beat all all over: oh my head, my back!
Thou strik'st thy Father Rogue.

Phid.
I do so father.

Streps.
See, see, he stands in't too.

Phid.
I do indeed.

Streps.
Thief, villain, Parricide.

Phid.
More I beseech you,
I am much taken with these pretty Titles.

Streps.
Rascall.

Phid.
Pray stick me fuller of these roses:

Streps.
Dost beat thy Father?

Phid.
Yes, by Jove, and justly.

Streps.
Oh' rogue what justice can there be in that:

Phid.
I will demonstrate it by argument.

Streps.
By argument?

Phid.
Most easily, which language
Shall I dispute in.

Streps.
Language?

Phid.
Yes the greater
Or lesser?

Streps.
I have bred thee well indeed
If thou canst make this good, that any son
May beat his Father.

Phid.
You'l confesse as much
If I so prove it, that you cannot answer't.

Streps.
Well, I will hear for once what you can say.

Scœn 2.

Chorus, Streps Phidip.
Cho.
“Old man it much concerns you to confute
“Your son, whose confidence appears to suit
“With a just cause; how happen'd this dispute?

Str.
I shall relate it from the first; as soon
As we had din'd, I took a lute and bid him
Sing the sheep-shearing of Simonides,
He told me 'twas an old and ugly fashion
To sing at dinner like a millers wife.

Phi.
And was not this sufficient to deserve
A beating; when you'd make men chirp like Grasse-hoppers?

Str.
Just so he said within; and added that
Simonides was an unpleasant Poet.
I must confesse I hardly could forbear him;
But then I bid him take a Myrtle branch,
And act some piece of Æschylus, that Æschylus
Saith he, is of all Poets the absurdest,
The hat shest, most disorderly and bumbast.
Did not my heart pant at this language think you?
Yet I represt it; Then said I, rehearse
A learned speech out of some modern wit;
He strait repeats out of Euripides
A tedious long Oration, how the Brother
(Good Heavens) did violate his sisters bed.
Here I confesse I could contain no longer
But chid him sharply; to dispute we went,
Words upon words, till he at last to blowes,
To strike, to pull, to tear me.

Phi.
And not justly?
You that would discommend Euripides
The wisest of all Poets.

Str.
Wisest? ah
What did I say, I shall be beat agen.

Ph.
By Iove, and you deserve't.

Str.
How, deserve it?
Ungratefull wretch, have I not brought thee up,
Fed and maintain'd thee from a little one,
Supplied thy wants? how then can I deserve it?

Chor.
“Now I believe each youthfull breast
“With expectation possest,
“That if the glory of the day
“Be from the Plantiffe born away,
“By this example they may all
“Upon the old men heavy fall;
“What you have done with utmost art,
“To justifie is now your part.

Phid.
How sweet it is to study, sage new things;
And to contemn all fundamental lawes!
When I applied my mind to Horse-coursing
I could not speak three words but I was out;
Now since I gave it ore, I am acquainted
With ponderous sentences and subtle reasons,
Able to prove I ought to beat my Father.

Str.
Nay, follow racing still, for I had rather
Maintain thy horses then be beaten thus.

Phid.
I will begin where you did interrupt me,
And first will ask, did you not beat me when
I was a child?

Streps.
But that was out of love.

Phid.
'Tis very right, tell me then, ought not I
To recompence your love with equall love;
If to be beaten be to be belov'd,
Why should I suffer stripes, and you have none?
I am by nature born as free as you;
Nor is it fit the sons should be chastiz'd,
And not their parents.

Str.
Why?

Phid.
You urge the Law,
That doth allow all children to be beaten:
To which I answer, Old men are twice children,
And therefore ought, when they offend, be punish'd
As well as we.

Str
But there's no Law that saies
The Parents should be punished.

Phid.
Was not he
Who made that Law, a man as you and I,
He form'd a Law, which all the old men follow'd;
Why may not I as well prescribe another,
And all the young men follow my advice:
But all the blowes before this Law was made
Must be forgiven without all dispute.
Besides, mark how the Cocks and other creatures
Fight with their sires, who differ not at all
From us, save only that they make no lawes.

Streps.
Why then if you will imitate the Cocks,
Do you not dine upon a Dunghill, and
Lodge in a hen-roost?

Phid.
'Tis not all one case,
Our Socrates doth not approve so far.

Streps.
Approve not then their fighting, but in this
Thou plead'st against thy selfe.

Phid.
How so?

Streps.
Because
Th'authority I exercise o're thee
Will be thine own, when ere thou hast a son.

Phid.
But if I ne'r have any, then I never
Shall have authority, and you will go
To th'grave deriding me.

Streps.
'Tis too much reason.

Phid.
Hear now another argument.

Streps.
I'me lost.

Phid.
And then perhaps you'l take the blowes I gave you
Not halfe so ill.

Streps.
What good shall I get by them?

Phid.
I'le beat my mother too.

Streps.
What sayest thou, thou?
Why this is worse then t'other.

Phid.
What if I
Prove by the second language that I ought?

Streps.
Why then you will have nothing more to do.
But prove that you, and your wise Socrates,
And wiser language may hang all together.
O Clouds, all this I suffer through your means,
For I in you wholly repos'd my trust.

Chor.
“Thy selfe art author of this misery,
“Because to ill thou didst thy mind apply.

Streps.
Why did you then give me no warning of it?
You know I was a rude and aged man.

Chor.
“This is our custome, whensoere we find
“Any to malice or deceit enclin'd,
“Into some dreadfull mischief such we thrust,
“That they may fear the Gods, and learn what's just.

Streps.
Alasse, this is a mischief, and a just one,
For I ought not, when I had borrow'd mony,
To seek out wayes t'avoid restoring it.
Come then my son, let us be reveng'd
Upon that wicked Socrates and Cheræphon,
Who have abus'd us both.

Phid.
I will not wrong
My Masters.

Streps.
Reverence Celestiall Jove.

Phid.
Celestiall Jove, see how you rave now father:
There's no such thing as Iove.

Streps.
There is.

Phid.
A whirle-wind
Hath blown Iove quite away, and rules all.

Streps.
No son, he's not expell'd, I was but fool'd
To worship in his room a fictile deity.

Phid.
Nay if you will needs be mad, be mad alone.

Scœn. 3.

Strepsiades.
Streps.
Mad that I was to trust in Socrates,
And cast off all our Gods; good Mercury
Be not displeas'd, or punish, but forgive me,
That took such paines, and studied to talk idly,
And tell me what I'de best do with these fellowes,
Sue them or punish 'em some other way—
Th'art in the right, I will not sue them then,
But as thou bidst me set their Nest on fire;
Come Xanthias, come, a fork and ladder quickly.
Get up and pluck the house about their Ears,
Quick if thou lovest thy master; one of you
Go light a torch, and bring it hither strait:
Proud as they are I mean to bring 'em lower.

Scœn 4.

Scholar, Strepsiades, Socrates, Chærephon.
Schol.
Oh. oh!

Strep.
Torch to thy work, set fire apace.

Schol.
What art thou doing man?

Streps.
That which I'm doing;
Disputing somewhat hotly with your school here.

Schol.
Alasse, who's this that sets our house on fire?

Streps.
He whom you cosen'd of his cloak.

Schol.
Thou kill'st,
Thou kil'lst us man.

Streps.
That is the thing I mean,
If my fork hold and ladder, do not fail me.

So.
How now, what do you make on our house-ridge.

Streps.
I walk i'th air and gaze upon the Sun.

So.
Alasse I'm choak'd.

Streps.
Why dost thou scorn the Gods then?

Chær.
Oh me I burn;

Streps.
Now you may calculate
The motions of the Moon; tear, pluck, beat, burn 'em.
For many reasons they deserve the flame,
But most because they did the Gods disclaim.

[Bion the Boristhenite]

Epigrams.

Upon one named Aster.

The Stars, my Star, thou view'st; Heav'n I would be,
That I with thousand eyes might gaze on Thee.

Upon his Death.

A Phosphor 'mongst the living late wert thou,
But shin'st among the dead a Hesper now.

Epitaph on Dion, engrav'd on his Tomb at Siracuse.

Old Hecuba the Trojan Matron's years
Were interwoven by the Fates with Tears;
But thee with blooming hopes my Dion deckt,
Gods did a Trophy of their pow'r erect.
Thy honour'd reliques in their Country rest,
Ah Dion! whose love rages in my breast.

On Alexis.

Fair is Alexis, I no sooner said,
When every one his eyes that way convey'd:
My soul (as when some dog a bone we show,
Who snatcheth it) lost we not Phædrus so?

On Archæanassa.

To Archæ'nassa, on whose surrow'd brow
Love sits in triumph, I my service vow;
If her declining Graces shine so bright,
What flames felt you, who saw her noon of light?

On Agathon.

My Soul, when I kiss'd Agathon, did start
Up to my lip, just ready to depart.

To Xantippe.

An Apple I (Love's emblem) at the throw,
Thou in exchange thy Virgin-zone bestow.
If thou refuse my suite, yet read in this,
How short thy years, how frail thy Beauty is.
I cast the apple, loving those love thee,
Xantippe yeeld, for soon both old will be.

On the Eretrians vanquish'd by the Persians.

We in Eubæa born Eretrians are
Buried in Susa from our Country far:

Venus and the Muses.

Virgins (said Venus to the Muses) pay
Homage to us, or, Love shall wound your Hearts:
The Muses answer'd, take these toyes away,
Our Breasts are proof against his childish darts.

Fortune exchang'd.

One finding Gold, in change, the halter quits,
Missing his Gold, 'tother the halter knits.

On Sappho.

He, who believes the Muses Nine, mistakes;
For Lesbian Sappho ten their number makes.

Time.

Time all things bring to passe, a change creates
In Names, in Formes, in Nations and in States.

Death.

That is a Plough-man's grave, a Sailor's this;
To Sea and Land alike Death common is.

On one Shipwrack'd.

The cruell Sea, which took my life away,
Forbore to strip me of my last array:
From this a covetous man did not refrain,
Acting a crime so great for so small gain;
But let him wear it to the shades, and there
Before great Pluto in my cloaths appear.

Another.

[Safely (O Saylors) presse the Land, and wave]

Safely (O Saylors) presse the Land, and wave,
Yet know, ye passe a Shipwrack'd persons grave.

On the Statue of Venus.

Paphian Cythera, swimming crosse the Main,
To Guidas came her Statue there to see,
And from on high, surveying round the plain
Where could Praxiteles me spy? (saith shee)
He saw not what's forbidden mortall Eyes,
'Twas Mars's Steel that Venus did incize.

Another.

[Not carv'd by Steel, or Praxitele's fam'd hand]

Not carv'd by Steel, or Praxitele's fam'd hand:
Thus nak'd before the Judges did'st thou stand.

Love sleeping.

Within the Covert of a shady Grove,
We saw the little red-cheek'd God of Love.
He had nor Row nor Quiver, those among
The neighb'ring Trees upon a bough were hung:
Upon a Bank of tender Rose-buds laid
He, (smiling) slept; Bees with their noise invade
His rest, and on his lips their honey made,

Pan Piping.

Dwell awfull Silence on the shady Hills
Among the bleating flocks, and purling rills,
When Pan the Reed doth to his lip apply,
Inspiring it with sacred Harmony,
Hydriads, and Hamadryads at that sound
In a well order'd measure beat the ground.

On the Image of a Satyre in a Fountain and Love sleeping.

A skilfull hand this Satyre made so near
To life, that only Breath is wanting here:
I am attendant to the Nymphs; before
I fill'd out purple wine, now water powre;
Who ere thou art com'st nigh, tread softly, lest
You waken Love out of his pleasing rest.

Another.

[On horn'd Lyæus I attend]

On horn'd Lyæus I attend,
And powre the streams these Nayads lend,
Whose noise Lov's slumber doth befriend.

Another.

[This Satyre Diodorus did not make]

This Satyre Diodorus did not make,
But charme asleep; if prick'd he will awake.

On a Seal.

Five Oxen grazing in a flow'ry Mead,
A Jasper seal done to the life doth hold,
The little herd away long since had fled,
We'rt not inclos'd within a pale of Gold.

The Sonnet.

[Love, (whose hand guides my Hearts strict Reins]

THE GOLDEN VERSES OF PYTHAGORAS.

Plato to Archytas

Thee the surveyor of the Sea and Land,
And the innumerous sand,
A little share of these small dusty grains,
Archytas now contains,
Hard by the Matine shore: It nought avail'd,
Since dye thou must, t'have scar'd
Th'aeriall Orbs, or that thy soaring soul
O're-run the wheeling Pole.

ARCHYTAS answers.

And so dy'd Pelop's father, at whose Feasts
The gods themselves were guests;
And Tithon, who Aurora entertain'd;
Minos, whom Jove design'd
Admission to his counsells; and again
Dark Tartara detain,
Panthous son, who, by his Target known,
And from the shrine ta'ne down,
Attested, that in Trojan Wars he breath'd,
And to black death bequeath'd
Nothing but skin and nerves, whom thou wilt yield
In truth and nature skild.
But all men to one endlesse night are led,
And once death's path must tread.
Some are stern Mars's Trophies; Seas become
The greedy Sailor's Tomb.
The fates of young and old together crowd,
No head is disallow'd
By mercilesse Proserpina; and me
Into th'Illyrian Sea
The wind, which doth Orion's Star pursue,
Unruly Auster threw.
But grudge not thou, kind Mariner, to spread
On my unburied head
And bones, some few of these loose sands; so may
Fierce Eurus turn away
Whatever threatens the Hesperian floods,
On the Apulian woods,
Securing thee from harm a swelling tyde
Of wealth on every side
Flow on thee by great Jove and Neptune sent.
Tarentum's President
If thou neglect, thou maist in future age
Thy guiltlesse sons engage
In this offence, perhaps fate may return
What's due unto thy scorn.
Vengeance may on my poor petition wait,
And thee nought expiate.
The stop is small, as thou sailst on, thou maist
Dust thrice upon me cast.