Lup. Good! Caesar shall know of this, believe it!
Mec. Caesar doth know it, wolf, and to his knowledge, He will, I hope, reward your base endeavours. Princes that will but hear, or give access To such officious spies, can ne'er be safe: They take in poison with an open ear, And, free from danger, become slaves to fear. [Exeunt.
SCENE VII.-An open Space before the Palace. Enter OVID.
Banish'd the court! Let me be banish'd life, Since the chief end of life is there concluded: Within the court is all the kingdom bounded, And as her sacred sphere doth comprehend Ten thousand times so much, as so much place In any part of all the empire else; So every body, moving in her sphere, Contains ten thousand times as much in him, As any other her choice orb excludes. As in a circle, a magician then Is safe against the spirit he excites; But, out of it, is subject to his rage, And loseth all the virtue of his art: So I, exiled the circle of the court, Lose all the good gifts that in it I 'joy'd. No virtue current is, but with her stamp, And no vice vicious, blanch'd with her white hand. The court's the abstract of all Rome's desert, And my dear Julia the abstract of the court. Methinks, now I come near her, I respire Some air of that late comfort I received; And while the evening, with her modest veil, Gives leave to such poor shadows as myself To steal abroad, I, like a heartless ghost, Without the living body of my love, Will here walk and attend her: for I know Not far from hence she is imprisoned, And hopes, of her strict guardian, to bribe So much admittance, as to speak to me, And cheer my fainting spirits with her breath.
Julia. [appears above at her chamber window.] Ovid? my love?
Jul. Here! and not here! O, how that word doth play With both our fortunes, differing, like ourselves, Both one; and yet divided, as opposed! I high, thou low: O, this our plight of place Doubly presents the two lets of our love, Local and ceremonial height, and lowness: Both ways, I am too high, and thou too low, Our minds are even yet; O, why should our bodies, That are their slaves, be so without their rule? I'll cast myself down to thee; if I die, I'll ever live with thee: no height of birth, Of place, of duty, or of cruel power, Shall keep me from thee; should my father lock This body up within a tomb of brass, Yet I'll be with thee. If the forms I hold Now in my soul, be made one substance with it; That soul immortal, and the same 'tis now; Death cannot raze the affects she now retaineth: And then, may she be any where she will. The souls of parents rule not children's souls, When death sets both in their dissolv'd estates; Then is no child nor father; then eternity Frees all from any temporal respect. I come, my Ovid; take me in thine arms, And let me breathe my soul into thy breast.