Lapas attēli

fine cloyshs now, and liveries, like tine own men ant be!

Don. But te rugs make t'em shrug a little.

Der. Tey have shit a great phoyle i' te cold, ant be. Don. Isht not pity te cloysh be drown'd now? Pat. Pre tee shee another daunsh, and be not veary.

Here they were interrupted by a civil Gentleman of the nation, who brought in a Bard.

Gent. He may be of your rudeness. Hold your tongues,

And let your coarser manners seek some place,
Fit for their wildness: this is none; be gone!

Advance, immortal Bard, come up and view
The gladding face of that great king, in whom
So many prophecies of thine are knit.

This is that James of which long since thou sung'st,
Should end our countries' most unnatural broils;
And if her ear, then deafen'd with the drum,
Would stoop but to the music of his peace,
She need not with the spheres change harmony.
This is the man thou promisd'st should redeem,
If she would love his counsels as his laws,
Her head from servitude, her feet from fall,
Her fame from barbarism, her state from want,

And in her all the fruits of blessings plant.

Sing then some charm, made from his present looks, That may assure thy former prophecies,

And firm the hopes of these obedient spirits, Whose love no less than duty hath call'd forth Their willing powers: who if they had much more, Would do their all, and think they could not move Enough to honour that, which he doth love.

Here the Bard sings to two harps.


Bow both your heads at once, and hearts;
Obedience doth not well in parts.
It is but standing in his eye,

You'll feel yourselves chang'd by and by.
Few live, that know, how quick a spring
Works in the presence of a king:
'Tis done by this; your slough let fall,

And come forth new-born creatures all.

During this Song, the Masquers let fall their mantles, and discover their masquing apparel.

dance forth.

Then they

After the dance the Bard sings this


So breaks the sun earth's rugged chains,

Wherein rude winter bound her veins;
So grows both stream and source of price,
That lately fetter'd were with ice.
So naked trees get crisped heads,

And colour'd coats the roughest meads,
And all get vigour, youth, and spright,
That are but look'd on by his light.

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MERCURY VINDICATED.] From the folio, 1616. This is a very ingenious and pleasant little piece, but the author gives neither the date nor the occasion on which it was written. If he paid any attention to time in the arrangement of his Masques, the present must have been produced subsequently to the comedy of the Alchemist.


Loud music. After which the Scene is discovered; being a Laboratory or Alchemist's work-house: VULCAN looking to the registers, while a Cyclope, tending the fire, to the cornets began to sing.



OFT, subtile fire, thou soul of art,
Now do thy part

On weaker nature, that through age is

Take but thy time, now she is old,

And the sun her friend grown cold,

She will no more in strife with thee be named.

Look, but how few confess her now,

In cheek or brow!

From every head, almost, how she is frighted!
The very age abhors her so,

That it learns to speak and go,
As if by art alone it could be righted.

The Song ended, MERCURY appeared, thrusting out his head, and afterwards his body, at the tunnel of the middle furnace: which VULCAN espying, cried out to the Cyclops.

Vul. Stay, see! our Mercury is coming forth; art and all the elements assist! Call forth our philoHe will evaporate.

sophers. He will be gone.

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