At these words, the whole band of favourites, set up a hideous and a heavy groan, trembling like aspen leaves, and at the same time reciting several passages out of the Prophet Habbakuk, against careless and wicked governors. By which threatenings is given to understand, that the Almighty, when He has a mind to destroy a wicked ruler, does not always punish one potentate by another, and bring His ends about by a trial of arms, or the event of a battle; but many times makes use of things the most abject and vile, to confound the vanity and arrogance of the mighty; and makes even worms, flies, caterpillars, and lice to serve Him as the ministers of His terrible justice; nay, the stone in the wall and the beam in the house shall rise in judgment against them.
This discourse might have gone further, but that the company presently parted, to know the meaning of a sudden noise and clatter they heard, that half-deafened the auditory. And what was it at last? but a scuffle between the Gown-men and the Brothers of the Blade; and there were persons of great honour and learning, young and old, engaged in the fray; the men of war were at it dashing with their swords, and the gentlemen of the long robe, fencing, some with tostatus, others with huge pandects, that with their old wainscot covers were as good as bucklers, and would now and then give the foe a heavy rebuke, over and above. The combat had certainly been very bloody, if one of Lucifer’s constables had not commanded them in the king’s name to keep the peace; which made it a drawn battle. And with that, one of the combatants, with the best face he had, said aloud, “If ye knew, gentlemen, either us, or our quarrel, you’d say we had reason, and perhaps side with us.” At that instant, there appeared Domitian, Commodus, Caracalla, Phalaris, Heliogabalus, Alcetes, Andronicus, Busiris, and old Oliver, with a world of great personages more; which, when Lucifer saw, he disposed himself to treat that majestical appearance, as much to their satisfaction as was possible. And then came up a grave ancient man, with a great train at his heels, that were all bloody, and full of the marks they had received under the persecution of these tyrants.
“You have here before ye,” quoth the old man, “Solon; and these are the seven sages, native of Greece, but renowned throughout the universe. He there in the mortar is that Anaxarchus that was pounded to death by command of Nicocreon. He with the flat nose is Socrates; the little crump-shouldered wretch was the famous Aristotle; and t’other there, the divine Plato. Those in the corner are all of the same profession too, grave and learned philosophers, that have displeased tyrants with their writings; and, in fine, the world is stored with their works and hell with the authors. To come to the point, most mighty Lucifer, we are all of us dealers in politics, great writers and deep-read men in the maxims of State and Government. We have digested policy into a method, and laid down certain rules, by which princes may make themselves great and beloved. We have advised them impartially to administer justice; to reward virtue, as well military as civil; to employ able men, banish flatterers; to put men of wisdom and integrity in places of trust; to reward or punish without passion, and according to the merits of the cause, as God’s vice-gerents. And this now is our offence. We name no body, we design no body; but ’tis crime enough to wish well to the way and to the lovers of virtue.” With that, turning toward the tyrants. “Oh most unjust princes,” said he, “those glorious kings and emperors from whom we took the model of our laws and instructions are now in a state of rest and comfort, while you are tormented. Numa is now a star in the firmament and Tarquin a fire-brand in hell. And the memory of Augustus and Trajan is still fresh and fragrant, when the names of Nero and Sardanapalus are more putrid and odious than their bodies.”
When Dionysius the tyrant heard this, (with his companions about him) flesh and blood could hold no longer; and he cried out in a rage, “That roguy philosopher has told a thousand lies. Legislators, with a pox? Yes, yes, they are sweet legislators, and princes have many a fair obligation to them. No, no, sirrah,” says he to Solon, “you are all of you a company of quacks; ye prate and speculate of things ye don’t understand; and with your damned moralities set the people agog upon liberty, cry up the doctrine of free-born subjects, and then our portion is persecution in one world and infamy in t’other.”
“We shall have a fine time on’t, my most gracious prince,” cried Julian the apostate, staring Lucifer in the face, “when these dunghill pedants, a company of cock-brained, ridiculous, mortified, ill-bred, beggarly tatterdemalions, shall come to erect a committee for politics, and pass sentence upon governors and governments; stiling themselves (forsooth) the supporters of both, without any more skill than my horse in what belongs to either. Tell me,” says he, “if a brave prince had not better be damned than subject himself to hear one of these turdy-facy-paty-nasty lowsie-fartical rascals, with a scabbed head and a plantation of lice in his beard, and his eyes crept into the nape of his neck, pronouncing, for an aphorism, that a prince that looks only to one is a tyrant, and that a true king is the shepherd and servant of his people. Ah, rash and besotted coxcombs! If a king looks only to others, who shall look to him? As if princes had not enemies enough abroad, without being so to themselves too. But you may write your hearts out, and never the nearer. Where’s our sovereignty? if we have not our subjects’ lives and estates at our mercy. And where’s our absolute power? if we submit to the counsels of our vassals. If we have not to satisfy our appetites, avarice and revenge, we want power to discharge the noblest ends of government. These contemplative idiots would have us make choice of good officers, to keep the bad in order; which were a madness, in our condition. Let them be complaisant, and no matter for any other merit or virtue. A parcel of good offices, handsomely disposed among a pack of cheats and atheists, will make us a party another day; whereas all is lost that’s bestowed upon honest men, for they’re our enemies; speak truth then all of ye, and shame the devil; for the butcher fats his sheep only for the shambles.
“I have said enough, I suppose, to stop your mouths, but here’s an orator will read you another-gates lecture of politics than any you have had yet, if you’ll give him the hearing. Photinus, advance,” said Julian, “and speak your mind;” whereupon there appeared a brazen-faced fellow, with a hanging look and twenty other marks of a desperate villain who, with a hellish yell, and three or four wry mouths for a prologue, brake into his discourse.
The wicked advice of one of Ptolomy’s courtiers, about the killing of Pompey: taken out of Lucan’s Pharsalia, Lib. 8.
“Methinks, under favour (most renowned Ptolomy) we are now slipped into a debate, a little beside the business. The question is whether Pompey should be delivered up to Cæsar, or no. That is to say, whether in reason of state it ought to be done; and we are formalising the matter, whether in point of equity and justice it may be done. Bodies politic have no souls, and never did any great prince turn a council of state into a court of conscience, but he repented it. Kingdoms are to be governed by politicians, not by casuists; and there is nothing more contrary to the true interest of crowns and empires, than in public cases to make a scruple of private duties. The argument is this: Pompey is in distress; and Ptolomy under an obligation, so that it were a violation of faith and hospitality not to relieve him. Now give me leave to reason in the other way. Pompey is forsaken, and persecuted by the Gods; Cæsar upon the heels of him, with victory and success. Shall Ptolomy now ruin himself, to protect a fugitive, against both heaven and Cæsar! I must confess, where honesty and profit are both of a side, ’tis well; but, where they disagree, the prince that does not quit his religion, for his convenience, falls into a direct conspiracy against himself. He shall lose the hearts of his soldiery, and the reputation of his power. Whereas, on the contrary, the most hateful tyrant in the world shall be able to keep his head above water, let him but give a general licence to commit all sorts of wickedness; you’ll say ’tis impious, but I say, what if it be? who shall call you to account? These deliberations are only for subjects that are under command, and not for sovereign princes whose will is a law.”
Exeat Aulâ
Qui volet esse pius,He was never cut out
For a Court, that’s devout.
“In fine, since either Pompey or Ptolomy must suffer, I am absolutely for the saving of Ptolomy, and the presenting of Pompey’s head, without any more ado, to Cæsar. A dead dog will never bite.”