NATTA.
[whispers Latiaris.] Who’s that salutes your cousin?
LATIARIS.
’Tis one Cordus,
A gentleman of Rome: one that has writ
Annals of late, they say, and very well.
NATTA.
Annals! of what times?
LATIARIS.
I think of Pompey’s,
And Caius Cæsar’s; and so down to these.
NATTA.
How stands he affected to the present state!
Is he or Drusian, or Germanic,
Or ours, or neutral?
LATIARIS.
I know him not so far.
NATTA.
Those times are somewhat queasy to be touch’d.
Have you or seen, or heard part of his work?
LATIARIS.
Not I; he means they shall be public shortly.
NATTA.
O, Cordus do you call him?
LATIARIS.
Ay.