A justification OF A STRANGE ACTION OF NERO; In burying with a solemn FUNERAL One of the cast HAIRS of his Mistress POPPAEA. Also a just reproof of a Roman smell-Feast, being the fifth Satire of IWENALL. Translated by George Chapman. Imprinted at London by THO. HARPER. M.DC.XXIX. TO THE RIGHT VIRTVOUS AND WORthily honoured Gentleman RICHARD HUBERT, Esquire. SIR, Great works get little regard; little and light are most affected with height: Omne levesursum; grave deorsum, you know; For which, and because Custom or Fashion, is another Nature, and that it is now the fashion to justify Strange Actions; I (utterly against mine own fashion) followed the vulgar, and assayed what might be said, for justification of a Strange Action of Nero; in burying with a solemn Funeral one of the cast hairs of his Mistress Poppea. And not to make little labours altogether unworthy the sight of the great; I say with the great defender of little labours, In tenui labor est, at tenuis non gloria. Howsoever; As Seamen seeing the aproches of Whales cast out empty vessels, to serve their harmful pleasures, and divert them from everting their main adventure; (for in the vast and immane power of any thing, no thing is distinguished; great and precious things, basest and vilest serve alike their wild and unwieldy swinges) so myself having yet once more some worthier work than this Oration, and following Translation, to pass this sea of the land; expose to the land and vulgar Leviathan, these slight adventures. The rather, because the Translation containing in two or three instances, a preparation to the justification of my ensuing intended Translations, lest some should account them, as they have my former conversions in some places; licenses, bold ones, and utterly redundant. Though your judicial self (as I have heard) hath taken those liberal redundances, rather as the necessary overflowings of Nilus; then rude or harmful torrents swollen with headstrong showers. To whose judgement and merit, submits these and all his other services, GEORGE CHAPMAN. To the Reader. BEcause in most opinions of translation, a most asinine error hath gotten ear and head, that men must attempt it as a mastery in rendering any original into other language, to do it in as few words, and the like order; I thought it not amiss in this poor portion of translation; to pick out (like the rotten out of Apples if you please so to repute it) apoore instance or two that endeavour to demonstrate a right in the contrary. And the rather I take this course ocularily to present you with example of what I esteem fit to save the liberty and dialect of mine own language; because there are many valetudinaries, that never know the goodness of their stomach till they see meat afore them. Where therefore the most worthy Satirist, describes the differences of pages that attend the Lord and the guest at the table, and expresses the disdain of the Lords page to attend his guest; he speaks for his pride thus; — sed forma sed aetas digna supercilio— Which I take out with this bold one: And to say truth, his form and prime beside May well allow him some few grains of pride. To speak truth, is too much, you say; I confess it, in policy; but not in free and honest poesy. In the other, the words are utterly altered; it should be so, to avoid verbal servitude. But the sense, I might wish my betters could render no worse. It follows: where he sets down the difference betwixt the Lord's bread and the guests; where he hath played upon the coarseness and mustiness of the guests pantry; he differences his Lords thus; Sed tener & niveus, mollique siligine factus, Servatur domino. Which I thus; But for his bread, the pride of appetite, Tenderly soft, incomparably white, The first flower of fine meal subdued in paste That's a peculiar for my Lords own taste. O this you will say is a bold one; which I am too bashful to answer otherwise then thus, that here the purest bread affects a full description; which I amplifying no more than is needful for the full facture of it; if I be overflowing, my Author is arid; but who would not greedily here have fall'n upon snowy? it lying so fair for him, put soft faithfully in his proper place, and would ever have dreamt of subdued in paste? because it was not put in his mouth. And I hope it will seem no over-broad bold one, to enter where the purest bread out of industry, should make his expected appearance. A number more out of this of no number, I could instance, that would trouble men made of greatest number to imitate. But all mastery hath his end, to get great men to commend. It is the outward not the inward virtue that prevails. The candlestick more than the candle, is the learning with which blind fortune useth to prefer her favourites. And who but the spawns of candlesticks (men of most lucubration for name) win the day from such Dormice as wake sleeping; and rest only in those unprofitable and abhorred knowledges, that no man either praises or acknowledges. Me dulcis saturet q●ies. Leni pefruar ocio. Ignotus omnibus. Cognitus egomet mihi. Quite opposite to your admir'de and known learned man: Qui notus nimis omnibus, Ignotus moritur sibi. And so shall know nothing either in life or death when every truly-learned man's knowledge especially begins. Your servant. THE FUNERAL ORATION made at the burial of one of POPPAEA'S hairs. THis solemn Pageant graced with so glorious a Presence as your Highness' self, and others, as you see, that mourn in their gowns and laugh in their sleeves; may perhaps breed a wonder in those that know not the cause, and laughter in those that know it. To see the mighty Emperor of Rome march in a mourning habit, and after him all the state of the Empire either present or presented; The Peers in person though with dry eyes, yet God knows their hearts; Others in their Ranks; One representing the state of a Courtier (as I judge by his leg;) another of a Citizen (as I judge by his head;) another of a Soldier, (as I judge by his look;) another the state Poetical (as I judge by his clothes;) for the state Physical, it hath no place here; for who ever saw a Physician follow a Funeral? To see, I say, all this Assembly masking in this Funeral pomp; could he that saw it imagine any less Funeral subject would follow, than the Hearse of your dear Mother Agrippina? or your beloved wife Octavia? or else of her whom you prefer to them both, your divine Poppaea? At lest who would imagine, that a poor hair broken loose from his fellows; or shaken off, like a windfall from the golden tree before his time; should have the honour of this Imperial solemnity: And be able to glory like the fly in the Cart; good heaven what a troop of fools have I gathered together? It is fatal to all honourable actions to fall under the scourge of detracting tongues, and for the most part to be condemned before they come to trial. In regard whereof, I will borrow so much of your patience, as that I may in a word or two examine the whole ground of this spectacle: Not doubting but that I shall make it appear to all upright ears, that it is an action most worthy your wisdom (my gracious Sovereign) and that this silly, this base, this contemptible hair on this Hearse supported, receives no thought of honour, but what it well deserveth. Etiam capillus unus habet umbram suam, was the saying of your master Seneca; and may not your Highness go one step further, and say, Etiam capillus unus habet urnam suam? To enter into the common place of women's hair, I list not; though it would afford scope enough for my pen to play in; that Theme hath been already canvased, and worn half threadbare by Poets and their fellows. My meaning is not to exceed the compass of this hair, which we have here in hand. This sacred beam fall'n from that sun of beauty Poppaea; whose very name is able to give it honour, though otherwise base. And albeit hair were of itself the most abject excrement that were, yet should Poppaea's hair be reputed honourable. I am not ignorant that hair is noted by many as an excrement, a fleeting commodity, subject to spring, and fall; & he whose whole head last day was not worth one hair, it shall be in as good estate the next day as it was ever before: And such as last year had as fair a crop of hair as ever fruitful head afforded; if there come but a hot summer; it shall be so smooth that a man may slur a die on't. An excrement, it is, I deny not; and yet are not all excrements to be vilified as things of no value: for Mask, Civet, Amber, are they not all excrements? yet what more pleasing to the daintiest sense we have? Nature gives many things with the left hand, which Art receives with the right: Sublimate and other drugs are by nature poison: yet Art turns them to wholesome medicines; so hair though by nature given us as an excrement, yet by Art it is made our capital ornament. For whereas the head is accounted the chief member of the body, hair is given us as the chief ornament of the head; I mean of women's heads; for men have other ornaments belonging to their heads, as shall hereafter appear more largely. And howsoever hair falls within the name of excrement; yet it is evermore the argument of a rank or rich soil where it grows, and of a barren where it fails; for I dare boldly pronounce in despite of all paltry proverbs, that a man's wit is ever rankest, when his hair is at the fullest. I say not his wit is best, but rankest; for I am not ignorant, that the rankest flesh is not always the soundest, as the rankest breath is not always the sweetest. And thus much more I will add for the general commendation of hair, that nature in no part hath expressed such curious and subtle skill as in this (as we term it) excrement; for what more excellent point of Art can there be, then to indurate and harden a thin vapour into a dry and solid substance? And this whole bush of hair, hath both his being and his nourishment from those sweet vapours, which breathe and steam from the quintessence of the brain, through those subtle pores of the head in which they are fashioned and spun by nature's finger into so slender and delicate a thread; as if she intended to do like the painter that came to see Apelles, drew that subtle line for a masterpiece of his workmanship. And besides the highest place given to the hair, and singularity of workmanship expressed in it, Nature hath endowed it with this special privilege, and left therein so great an impression of herself, as it is the most certain mark by which we may aim at the complexion and condition of every man; as red hair on a man is a sign of treachery, what 'tis in a woman, let the sweet music of rhyme inspire us; a soft hair chicken-hearted; a harsh hair churlish natured; a flaxen hair foolish brained; what a black-hayred man is ask the proverb; if ye believe not that, ask your wives; if they will not tell you, look in your glasses, and ye shall see it written on your foreheads. So that nature having honoured hair with so great a privilege of her favour, why should we not think it worthy all honour in itself without any addition of other circumstance. And if Nature hath graced the whole Garland with this honour, may not every flower challenge his part? If any hair, than this hair (the argument of our present mourning) more than any: But we must not think (Princes and Senators) that the undaunted heart of our Emperor, which never was known to shrink at the butchering of his own mother Agrippina; and could without any touch of remorse, hear (if not behold) the murder of his most dear wife Octavia after her divorce; we must not think (I say) this Adamantine heart of his could resolve into softness, for the loss of a common or ordinary hair. But this was (alas why is it not) a hair of such rare and matchless perfection, whether ye take it by the colour or by the substance, as it is impossible for nature in her whole shop to pattern it: So subtle and slender as it can scarce be seen, much less felt; and yet so strong as it is able to bind Hercules' hand and foot; and make it another of his labours to extricate himself. In a word it is such a flower as grows in no garden but Poppaea's; borne to the wonder of men, the envy of women, the glory of the Gods, etc. A hair of such matchless perfection, that if any where it should be found by chance, the most ignorant would esteem it of infinite value, as certainly some hairs have been. The purple hair of Nisus, whereon his kingdom and life depended, may serve for an instance. And how many young gallants do I know myself, every hair of whose chin, is worth a thousand crowns; and others (but simple fornicators) that have never a hair on their crowns, but is worth a King's ransom? At how much higher rate than shall we value this hair, which if it were not Poppaea's, yet being such as it is, it deserved high estimation; but being Poppaea's (if it were not such) it can be worth no less. When therefore a hair of this excellence is fallen like an Apple from the golden Tree, can the loss be light? And can such loss do less then beget a just and unfeigned grief, not proceeding from humour in our Emperor▪ nor flattery in us, but out of true judgement in us all? Albeit I must add this for the qualifying of your grief (most sacred Emperor) that this divine hair is not utterly lost; It is but sent as a Harbinger before, the rest must follow it: And in the mean time this remains in blessed estate; it is at rest; it is free from the trouble and encumbrance which her miserable fellows that survive are daily enforced to endure. The cruel comb shall no more fasten his teeth upon it; it shall no more be tortured with curling bodkins, tied up each night in knots, wearied with tires, and by all means barred of that natural freedom in which it was borne: And, which is a torment above torments, subject to the fearful tincture of Age, and to change his amber hew into a withered and mortified grey. From all this fear and trouble this happy hair is freed; it rests quietly in his Urn, strait to be consecrated as a relic upon this altar of Venus, there to be kept as her treasure, till it hath fetched to it a fair number more; and then to be employed by Venus, either as a bracelet for her paramour Mars, or else (which I rather believe) for a Periwig for herself; all his fellows and his Mistress, having from it taken the infection of the falling sickness. Dixi. D. JUNII IWENALIS LIB. 1. SAT. 5. To Trebius. Labouring to bring him in dislike of his continued course of frequenting the Table of VIRRO, a great Lord of Rome. IF of thy purpose yet, thou tak'st no shame, But keep'st thy mind (immutably) the same, That thou esteemest it as a good in chief At others Trenchers to relieve thy life: If those things thou canst find a back to bear, That not Sarmentus, nor vile Galba were So base to put in patience of a guest, No, not for Caesar's far-exceeding feast: Fear will affect me to bleeve thy troth In any witness, though produced by oath. For nothing in my knowledge falls, that is More frugal than the belly: but say this That not enough food all thy means can find, To keep thy gut from emptiness and wind Is no Creek void? no Bridge? no piece of shed Half, or not half? Would thy not being fed At Virro's Table be so foul a shame? Does hunger blow in thee so false a flame? As not to taste it nobler in as poor And vile a place as hath been named before? To quake for cold, and gnaw the mustiest grounds Of Barly-griest (baked purposely for hounds) First, take it for a Rule, that if my Lord Shall once be pleased to grace thee with his board, The whole revenues that thy hopes inherit Rising from services of ancient merit, In this requital amply paid will prove. O 'tis the fruit of a transcendent love, To give one victuals; That, thy Table-King Lays in thy dish, though ne'er so thin a thing, Yet that reproach, still in thine ears shall ring. If therefore after two months due neglect He deigns his poor dependant to respect, And lest the third bench fail to fill the rank, He shall take thee up to supply the blank. Let's sit together Trebius (says my Lord) See all thy wishes sum'd-vp in a word. What canst thou ask at Ioues hand after this? This grace to Trebius, enough ample is; To make him start from sleep before the Lark, Posting abroad vntrused, and in the dark Perplexed with fear, lest all the seruile-rout Of his saluters, have the round run-out Before he come; whiles yet the fixed Star Shows his ambiguous head; and heavens cold Car The slow Boots wheels about the Bear. And yet for all this, what may be the cheer? To such vile wine, thy throat is made the sink As greasy will, would not endure to drink, And we must shortly look to see our guest Transformed into a Berecynthian-Priest. Words make the Prologue to prepare the fray, And in the next Scene, Pots are taught to play The parts of weapons: Thy red Napkin now Descends to tell thee of thy broken-Brow: And such events do evermore ensue When you poor Guests, and Virro's serving crew Grow to the heat of such uncivil Wars, The vile Wine made the Bellowes to your jars. For Virro's-selfe, the wine he drinks was borne When Consuls (Phaebus-like) appeared unshorn, A Grape that long since in the wars was pressed By our confederate- Marsians, and the rest Of which, no drop his longing-frend can get Tho●gh blown in fume up with a Cardiack fit. Next day he likes to taste another field, The Alban hills, or else the Setine yield Whose race and rich succession if you ask, Age hath decayed, and sickness of the cask, Such Thrasea & Heluidius quaffed, still crowned When Brutus' birth, and Cassius they renowned. Virro himself in solemn Bowls is served Of Amber, and disparent Beryl carved; But to thy trust, no such Cup they commit, Or if they do, a Spy is fixed to it To tell the stones; whose firm eye never fails To watch the close walks of thy vulturous nails, Give leave (says Virro) and then takes the Cup, The famous jasper in it lifting-up Inglorious praises: for 'tis now the guise Of him and others to transfer such prize Off from his fingers to his Bowl's; that were Want to grace swords: & our young Trojan Peer That made jarbus jealous (since in love Preferred past him by Dido) used t'improve By setting them in forefront of his sheath; But thy Bowl stands an infinite beneath And bears the Beneventane-coblers' name, Whose Gallon drunke-off, must thy blood inflame And is so crazed, That they would let it pass To them that Matches give, for broken Glass; Now, if by fumes of wine, or fiery-meat His Lordship's stomach over-boyle with heat, there's a cold liquor brought that's made t'outvie The i'll impressions of the North-East-skie. I formerly affirmed, that you and he Were served with wines of a distinct degree, But now remember it belongs to you To keep your distance in your water too. And (in his Page's place) thy Cups are brought By a swarth foot man, from Getulia bought, Or some starved Negro, whose affrightful sight Thou wouldst abhor to meet in dead of night Passing the monuments of Latia, In his eye waits the flower of Asia, A jewel purchased at a higher rate Then Martial Ancus, or King Tullus State. (Not to stand long) Then all the idle things That graced the Courts of all our Roman Kings If than thy Bowl his Nectar's store shall need Address thee to his Indian Ganymed. Think not his page, worth such a world, can skill Or does not scorn, for thread bare Coats to fill, And (to say truth) his form and prime beside, May well allow him some few Grains of pride. But when does he, to what thou want'st descend? Or thy entreaties, not contemnet ' attend? Supply of water craving, hot or cold: No, he (I tell you) in high scorn doth hold To stir at every stale dependants call; Or that thou call'st for any thing at all, Or sittest where his forc'd-Stand, his pride depraves; Houses of State abound with stately slaves. And see, fewer proud disdains resist His hand to set thee bread: And yet what is't But hoary cantles of unbowlted grist? That would a iaw-tooth rouse; and not admit (Though ne'er so base) thy base throat a bit: But for his bread, the pride of appetite, Tenderly soft, incomparably white; The first flower of fine meal, subdued in paste, That's a peculiar for my Lords own taste; See than thou keep'st thy fingers from offence, And give the Pantler his due reverence: Or say thou shouldst be (malepertly) bold, Seest thou not slaves enough, to force thy hold From thy attempted prize, with taunts like these, Hands off, forward companion, will you please With your familiar Crible to be fed, And understand the colour of your bread? Then grumbles thy disgrace: and is it this For which so oft I have forborn the bliss Of my fair wife, to post with earliest speed Up to Mount Esculine, where agues breed? When my repair did vernal jove provoke, To drive his wether through my winter cloak And in his bitterest hails, his murmurs broke? But let us to our Cates, our course address Observe that Lobster served to Virro's mess, How with the length of his extended limbs He does surcharge the Charger: how the brims With lustful Sperage are all ouer-stored? with what a tail, he ouer-tops the board? In service first borne-up betwixt the hands Of that vast Yeoman; But, for thee, there stands A puny-Cray-fish, penned in half a shell, The dish not feast enough for one in Hell. The fish he tastes, swims in an oil that grew In Campany, and drank Venafrian Dew. But, for the Words (poor snake) presented thee, Whose pale aspect, shows their infirmity; They drink an oil, much of the Curriers stamp, Exquisite stuff, that savours of the lamp. For know, that for your Board, is billeted An Oil that from the Lybian Cane is shed The burden of a sharp Numidian Prow; An Oil, for whose strength Romans disavow To bath with Boccharis: an Oil whose smell Against Serpents, doth an Amulet excel. Next, for my Lord, a Mullet see seru'd-in, Sent from the Corsic shore; or of a fin Bred in Sicilia's Taurominian-Rockes, All our Seas being exhausted: all our Flocks Spent and destroyed, while our luxurious diet Makes havoc, and our Kitchens never quiet Still with unwearied nets, that no truce keep Ransack the entrayles of th'adjoining deep; Nor respite our Etrurian Fry to grow, And now our markets, their chief purveyance owe To some remote, and ditionary coast; Thence come the Dainties, that our Kitchens boast. Such as to buy, the vulture Lenas' deigns: Such as to sell, Aurelia enterteines. In mess with that, behold for Virro lies A Lamprey of an exemplary Size, That for dimension bears the price from all Which Gulfs Sicilian sent his Festival, For while the South contains himself; while he Lies close, and dries his feathers in his Lee, Our greedy Pursenets for their gain despise The danger that in mid Charybdis lies. Now, for his Lamprey, thou art glad to take An Eel, near cozen to a hideous Snake, Or else a freckled- Tiberine, bit with frost, And he, the poorest slave of all the coast; Fed with the torrent of the common Sewer, And swims the towne-ditch, (where 'tis most impure. Here would I on himself a word have spent, So he inclined an ear benevolent: Nor do we such benevolences crave, As Seneca his mean acquaintance gave; Such as good Piso; such as Cotta made To deal for Largesse; a familiar Trade; For times have been, that in the world's account, The title of munificent did mount Above triumphant, or imperial Bayss: But our desire, in this due limit stays, That you will make, when you entreat a guest, Civil respect the Steward of your Feast: Do this and be (as many Lords are more) Rich to yourself, and to your followers, poor. Before him see a huge Goose-liver set, A Capon crammed, even with that Goose; for great A whole wild Boar, hid in his smoking heat That gold-locked Meleager's dart deserved, And after all this, Virro's-selfe is served With pure-dressed Mushrooms: be the spring then freed, And wished thunders, make his meals exceed. And then the Gully-gut (Aledius) cries O Lybia, keep with thee thy Wheats and Ries, And ease thy Oxen, sending these supplies. And that no indignation want to thee; (As bound t'observe) the Carver thou must see Dancing about his business: and he That teaches him the Laws, to the true life Of carving comely; with his flying knife Touching at every joint he carves, before He dares th'attempt; till not a gesture more In all his dictates can deserve offence, Nor must your note fail, how huge difference There is 'twixt the unlacing of your hare, And Hen's dissection: against which, if you dare But whisper, like a three-named Noble man, Like Cacus, struck by hands-Herculean, Thou shalt be, by the heels, dragged forth the place: But when doth Virro then vouchsafe the grace To drink to thee? Or touch the Cup that thou hast, with thy lips profaned? Or which of you So desperate is? so lost? to bid the King Drink to me Sir? No: there is many a thing, That threadbare coats dare not for fear bring forth, But if some god, or godlike man; or worth Better than Fate, would Wealth bestow on thee, Fit to maintaime a Knight of Rome's degree, How huge a piece of man shouldst thou ascend Raised out of nothing? how much Virro's friend? Give Trebius; Set to Trebius; Brother (now) Please you these puddings taste? O moneys, you He gives this honour: you, these Brother are, Yet notwithstanding, if thou please to share His Lordship with him; or become his King You must to Court no young Aeneas bring Nor daughter (though his daintier) to be Play-pheeres with Virro's daintiest progeny, But Childless be: a pleasing and dear friend A barren wife makes: but suppose she lend Thy lap much issue (even at one birth three) So thou be Rich, Virro will join with thee, In joy of that thy prating progeny; And ever when the Infant Parasite Comes to the Table, ask his delight, Virro commands it, all his appetite To all his cheap-prized friends, they serve the board With dangerous Toad-stooles: Mushrooms for my Lord, But such as Claudius pleased to taste, before His wife's gift came, that made him taste no more. Virro commands for him, and all the rest Of the Virronian rank, fruit of such Feast As thou shalt only in their odour eat; Such as Phaeacia's endlssse autumnes sweat; Or thou wouldst think got from the golden trees That grew in guard of the Atlantides, Where thou eatest spaky fruit, of that sour sort That fresh-traind-souldiers feed on in their fort, Bestowed on them in practice of their Art At a stuffed goatskin, to bestow a dart, Fearing for their default, the scourges smart. Perhaps, for saving cost, thou mayst conceive That Virro feeds thee so▪ No▪ 'tis to grieve Thy greedy liquorous appetite, because There is no Comedy of more applause, Nor any excellentest Zany can, More than a weeping-gut, delight a man: All is then done: (if we must teach thine ears) To make thee purge thy choler by thy tears, And live still gnashing of thy great-eye-teeths, Thou think'st, he thinks thee free; & not beneath Guests for his love and Grace: but he knows well Thee only taken with his kitchins-smell: Nor thinks amiss: For who, so naked lives, That twice, on his entreats, attendance gives? Vain hope of supping-well, deceives you all: But see (say you) that halfe-eat hare will fall In his gift, to our shares: Or of that bore Some little fragments, that his Haunches wore: Or sure that Cap'net; when, for all prepared; (Your musty bread pared clean) and no bit shared Of all those meats of mark, and longed-for dishes Your vain hopes vanish, and y'are mute as fishes. He's wise that serves thee so: for if thou can Bear all, thou shouldst: and he's no unjust man That lays all on thee, even to stoop thy head▪ To the fool's Razor; and be buffeted: 〈◊〉 if thou dost, nor lettest thy Forag● 〈◊〉 Besides to suffer Virro's whipping cheer, With all the sharp Sauce, that he can extend, thou'rt worthy such a feast, and such a friend. FINIS.