Caesar, when he assumed the perpetual dictatorship, had not more
servile or more elegant flattery. A translation may show its
servility; but its elegance is less attainable. Having exposed the
unskilfulness or selfishness of the former government, "We were
left," says Milton, "to ourselves: the whole national interest fell
into our hands, and subsists only in your abilities. To your
virtue, overpowering and resistless, every man gives way, except
some who, without equal qualifications, aspire to equal honours, who
envy the distinctions of merit greater than their own, or who have
yet to learn, that in the coalition of human society nothing is more
pleasing to God, or more agreeable to reason, than that the highest
mind should have the sovereign power. Such, sir, are you by general
confession; such are the things achieved by you, the greatest and
most glorious of our countrymen, the director of our public
councils, the leader of unconquered armies, the father of your
country; for by that title doss every good man hail you with sincere
and voluntary praise."

Next year, having defended all that wanted defence, he found leisure
to defend himself. He undertook his own vindication against More,
whom he declares in his title to be justly called the author of the
"Regii Sanguinis Clamor." In this there is no want of vehemence nor
eloquence, nor does he forget his wonted wit. Morus es? an Momus?
an uterque idem est? He then remembers that Morus is Latin for a
mulberry-tree, and hints at the known transformation:


- Poma alba ferebat
Quae post nigra tulit Morus.