Columbia University Press; London, Macmillan,
1902.

SENECA

APOCOLOCYNTOSIS, OR LUDUS DE MORTE CLAUDII: THE PUMPKINIFICATION OF
CLAUDIUS.

I wish to place on record the proceedings in heaven 1
October 13 last, of the new year which begins this auspicious age. It
shall be done without malice or favour. This is the truth. Ask if you like
how I know it? To begin with, I am not bound to please you with my answer.
Who will compel me? I know the same day made me free, which was the last
day for him who made the proverb true--One must be born either a Pharaoh
or a fool. If I choose to answer, I will say whatever trips off my tongue.
Who has ever made the historian produce witness to swear for him? But if
an authority must be produced, ask of the man who saw Drusilla translated
to heaven: the same man will aver he saw Claudius on the road, dot and
carry one. [Sidenote: Virg. Aen. ii, 724] Will he nill he, all that happens
in heaven he needs must see. He is the custodian of the Appian Way; by that
route, you know, both Tiberius and Augustus went up to the gods. Question
him, he will tell you the tale when you are alone; before company he is
dumb. You see he swore in the Senate that he beheld Drusilla mounting
heavenwards, and all he got for his good news was that everybody gave him
the lie: since when he solemnly swears he will never bear witness again to
what he has seen, not even if he had seen a man murdered in open market.
What he told me I report plain and clear, as I hope for his health and
happiness.

Now had the sun with shorter course drawn in his risen light, 2
And by equivalent degrees grew the dark hours of night:
Victorious Cynthia now held sway over a wider space,
Grim winter drove rich autumn out, and now usurped his place;
And now the fiat had gone forth that Bacchus must grow old,
The few last clusters of the vine were gathered ere the cold:

I shall make myself better understood, if I say the month was October, the
day was the thirteenth. What hour it was I cannot certainly tell;
philosophers will agree more often than clocks; but it was between midday
and one after noon. "Clumsy creature!" you say. "The poets are not content
to describe sunrise and sunset, and now they even disturb the midday
siesta. Will you thus neglect so good an hour?"

Now the sun's chariot had gone by the middle of his way;
Half wearily he shook the reins, nearer to night