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Ben Jonson - The SpeechBen Jonson - The Speech
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The long laments I spent for ruin`d Troy, Are dried; and now mine eyes run teares of joy. No more shall men suppose Electra dead, Though from the consort of her sisters fled Unto the Artick circle, here to grace, And gild this day with her serenest face: And see, my daughter Iris hastes to throw Her roseat wings in compasse of a bow, About our State, as signe of my approach: Attracting to her seate from Mithras coach, A thousand different, and particular hiewes, Which she throughout her body doth diffuse. The Sun, as loth to part from this halfe Spheare, Stands still; and Phoebe labors to appeare In all as bright (if not as rich) as he: And, for a note of more serenity, My six faire sisters hither shift their lights; To do this hower the utmost of her rites. Where lest the captious, or prophane might doubt, How these cleare heavenly bodies come about All to be seen at once; yet neithers light Eclips`d, or shadow`d by the others sight: Let ignorance know, great King, this day is thine, And doth admit no night; but all do shine As well nocturnall, as diurnall fires, To adde unto the flame of our desires. Which are (now thou hast closd up Janus gates, And giv`n so generall peace to all Estates) That no offensive mist, or cloudy staine May mixe with splendor of thy golden raigne; But, as th`ast free`d thy Chamber, from the noyse Of war and tumult; thou wilt powre those joyes Upon this place, which claimes to be the seate Of all the kingly race: the cabinet To all thy counsels; and the judging chaire To this thy speciall Kingdome. Who so faire And wholsome laws, in every Court, shall strive By Æquity, and their first innocence to thrive; The base and guilty bribes of guiltier men Shall be thrown back, and Justice look, as when She lov`d the earth, and fear`d not to be sold For that, which worketh all things to it, gold. The Dam of other evils, avarice Shall here locke down her jaws, and that rude vice Of ignorant, and pittied greatnesse, pride, Decline with shame; ambition now shall hide Her face in dust, as dedicate to sleep, That in great portals wont her watch to keep. All ils shall fly the light: Thy Court be free No lesse from envy, than from flattery; All tumult, faction, and harsh discord cease, That might perturbe the musick of thy peace: The querulous nature shall no longer finde Room for his thoughts: One pure consent of minde Shall flow in every brest, and not the ayre, Sun, Moon, or Stars shine more serenely faire. This from that loud, blest Oracle, I sing, Who here, and first, pronounc`d thee Brittaines King. Long maist thou live, and see me thus appeare, As ominous a Comet, from my Spheare, Unto thy raigne; as that did auspicate So lasting glory to Augustus State.
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