Page:The Works of Ben Jonson - Gifford - Volume 9.djvu/123

Rh Or whilst he shuns the earth, to catch at air And empty clouds. For tragedy is fair, And far unworthy to blurt out light rhymes; But as a matron drawn at solemn times To dance, so she should shamefac'd differ far From what th' obscene and petulant satyrs are. Nor I, when I write satyrs, will so love Plain phrase, iny Pisos, as alone t' approve Mere reigning words: nor will I labour so Quite from all face of tragedy to go, As not make difference, whether Davus speak, And the bold Pythias, having cheated weak Simo, and of a talent wip'd his purse; Or old Silenus, Bacchus' guard and nurse. I can out of known geer a fable frame, And so as every man may hope the same; Yet he that offers at it may sweat much, And toil in vain: the excellence is such Of order and connexion; so much grace There comes sometimes to things of meanest place. But let the Fauns, drawn from their groves, beware, Be I their judge, they do at no time dare, Like men street-born, and near the hall rehearse Their youthful tricks in over-wanton verse; Or crack out bawdy speeches, and unclean. The Roman gentry, men of birth and mean, Will take offence at this: nor though it strike Him that buys chiches blanch'd, or chance to like The nut-crackers throughout, will they therefore Receive or give it an applause the more. To these succeeded the old comedy, And not without much praise, till liberty Fell into fault so far, as now they saw Her license fit to be restrain'd by law: