THE

LAW-STUDENT.

An EPISTLE,

Addreffed to the Author of

The JEALOUS WIFE;

With a Preface by

BEN JONSON.

POETASTE R.

ACT I. SCENE I.

OVID, LUSCUS.

THEN, when this body falls in funeral fire,

go fo.

My name fhall live, and my best part afpire."

Lufc. Young master, master Ovid, do you hear? Gods a'me! away with your songs, and fonnets; and on with your gown and cap quickly: here, here, your father will be a man of this room presently.

Come, nay, nay, nay, nay, be brief. These verses too, a poyfon on 'em, I cannot abide 'em, they make me ready to cast, by the banks of Helicon. Nay, look, what a rascally untoward thing this poetry is; I could tear 'em now.

Ovid. Give me, how near's my father?

Lufc. Heart a' man: get a law-book in your hand, I will not answer you elfe. Why fo, now there's fome

fome formality in you. By Jove, and three or four of the gods more, I am right of mine old master's humour for that; this villainous poetry will undo you by the welkin.

Ovid. What haft thou bufkins on, Lufcus, that thou fwear'st so tragically and high?

Lufc. No, but I have boots on, fir, and so has your father too by this time; for he call'd for 'em, e're I came from the lodging.

Ovid. Why? was he no readier?

Lufc. O no; and there was the mad skeldring captain, with the velvet arms, ready to lay hold on him as he comes down: he that preffes every man he meets, with an oath to lend him money, and cries, (Thou must do't old boy, as thou art a man, a man of worship.)

Ovid. Who? Pantilius Tucca?

Lufc. I, he; and I met little mafter Lupus, the tribune, going thither too.

Ovid. Nay, an' he be under their arrest, I may (with fafety enough) read over my elegy before he

come,

Lufc.

Lufc. Gods a' me? what'll you do? Why young master, you are not Caftalian mad, lunatick, frantick, desperate? ha!

Ovid. What ail'ft thou, Lufcus?

Lufc. God be with you, fir, I'll leave you to your poetical fancies, and furies. I'll not be guilty, I. Ovid. Be not, good ignorance: I'm glad th'art gone: For thus alone, our ear shall better judge

The hafty errors of our morning muse.

[Reads an elegy ending with

My name fhall live, and my best part aspire.

SCENE II.

Ovid fenior, Ovid junior, Lufcus, Tucca, Lupus, Pyrgus.

Ovid fe. Your name fhall live indeed, fir; you fay true but how infamously, how fcorn'd and contemn'd in the eyes and ears of the best and gravest Romans, that you think not on: you never so much Are these the fruits of all my tra

as dream of that.