One is his printer in disguise, and keeps

His press in a hollow tree, where to conceal him, He works by glow-worm light, the moon's too open. The other zealous rag is the compositor,

Who in an angle, where the ants inhabit, (The emblems of his labours), will sit curl'd Whole days and nights, and work his eyes out for him.

Nose. Strange arguments of love! there is a
schoolmaster

Is turning all his works too, into Latin,
To pure satyric Latin; makes his boys
To learn him; calls him the Times' Juvenal;
Hangs all his school with his sharp sentences;
And o'er the execution place hath painted
Time whipt, for terror to the infantry.

Eyes. This man of war i' the rear, he is both trumpet

And champion to his muse.
Ears. For the whole city.

Nose. Has him by rote, recites him at the tables,
Where he doth govern; swears him into name,
Upon his word, and sword, for the sole youth
Dares make profession of poetic truth,
Now militant amongst us to th' incredulous,
That dagger is an article he uses,
To rivet his respect into their pates,

And make them faithful. Fame, you'll find you have wrong'd him.

Fame. What a confederacy of folly's here?

5 His press in a hollow tree, &c.] There is very little exaggeration in this lively satire; it is sufficient to read the statepapers of the day, to be able to appropriate it with sufficient accuracy. Nothing gave the great officers of the law such trouble, as ferreting out the obscure holes in which the libels which overflowed the country were produced. Almost every scurrilous writer had a portable press, which was moved from one hiding place to another with a secrecy and dispatch truly wonderful.

They all dance but FAME, and make the first ANTIMASQUE, in which they adore, and carry forth CHRONOMASTIX.

After which, the CURIOUS come up again to FAME.

Eyes. Now, Fame, how like you this?
Ears. This falls upon you

For your neglect.

Nose. He scorns you, and defies you,

He has got a Fame on's own, as well as a faction.
Eyes. And these will deify him, to despite you.
Fame. I envy not the 'Arrollwors.
Αποθέωσις.

'Twill prove but deifying of a pompion."

Nose. Well, what is that the Time will now exhibit?

Eyes. What gambols, what devices, what new sports?

Ears. You promised us, we should have any thing.

Nose. That Time would give us all we could imagine.

Fame. You might imagine so, I never promised it. Eyes. Pox! then 'tis nothing. I had now a fancy We might have talk'd o' the king.

Ears. Or state.

Nose. Or all the world.

Eyes. Censured the council ere they censure us. Ears. We do it in Paul's.

Nose. Yes, and in all the taverns.

Fame. A comely license! They that censure those

They ought to reverence, meet they that old curse, To beg their bread, and feel eternal winter! There's difference 'twixt liberty and license.

6 Twill prove but deifying of a pompion.] Alluding to the bur. lesque deification of Claudius, by Seneca.

Nose. Why if it be not that, let it be this then' (For since you grant us freedom, we will hold it) Let's have the giddy world turn'd the heels upward,

And sing a rare black Sanctus," on his head,
Of all things out of order.

Eyes. No, the man

In the moon dance a coranto, his bush
At's back a-fire; and his dog piping Lachrymæ.
Ears. Or let's have all the people in an uproar,
None knowing why, or to what end; and in
The midst of all, start up an old mad woman
Preaching of patience.

Nose. No, no, I'd have this.
Eyes. What?

Fame. Any thing.

Nose. That could be monstrousEnough, I mean. A Babel of wild humours. Ears. And all disputing of all things they know

not.

Eyes. And talking of all men they never heard of.

7 And sing a rare black Sanctus.] The black Sanctus was a profane parody of some hymn in the Mass book; and the tune to which it was set was probably loud and discordant, to assist the ridicule. As a satire on the monks, whom it lashes with some kind of coarse humour, it appears to have been very popular. It may be referred to the times of Hen. VIII. when to criminate the ancient possessors of the monasteries, was to render a most acceptable service to that hateful tyrant, and his rapacious court. Sir J. Harrington, who printed it entire, calls it "the Monks Hymn to Saunte Satan." It occurs in Beaumont and Fletcher :

"Let's sing him a black Sanctus, then let's all howl
Mad Lover.

In our own beastly voices."

And is also introduced by Phil. Holland in his translation of Livy: Nata in vanos tumultus gens, truci cantu, clamoribusque variis, horrendo cuncta impleverunt sono. Lib. v. c. 37. " With an hideous and dissonant kind of singing like a black Sanctus, they filled all about with a fearful and horrible noise."

Ears. And all together by the ears o'the sudden. Eyes. And when the matter is at hottest, then All fall asleep.

Fame. Agree among yourselves,

And what it is you'd have, I'll answer you.
Eyes. O, that we shall never do.

Ears. No, never agree.

Nose. Not upon what? Something that is unlawful.

Ears. Ay, or unreasonable.

Eyes. Or, impossible.

Nose. Let it be uncivil enough, you hit us right. Ears. And a great noise.

Eyes. To little or no purpose.

Nose. And if there be some mischief, 'twill become it.

Eyes. But see there be no cause, as you will answer it.

Fame. These are mere monsters.

Nose. Ay, all the better.

Fame. You do abuse the time. These are fit
freedoms

For lawless prentices, on a Shrove-tuesday,
When they compel the Time to serve their riot;
For drunken wakes, and strutting bear-baitings,
That savour only of their own abuses.

Eyes. Why, if not those, then something to
make sport.

Ears. We only hunt for novelty, not truth. Fame. I'll fit you, though the Time faintly permit it.

The second ANTIMASQUE of TUMBLERS, and JUGLERS, brought in by the CAT AND FIDDLE, who make sport with the CURIOUS, and drive them away. Fame. Why now they are kindly used like such spectators,

That know not what they would have. Commonly
The Curious are ill natured, and, like flies,
Seek Time's corrupted parts to blow upon:
But may the sound ones live with fame, and ho-

nour,

Free from the molestation of these insects, Who being fled, Fame now pursues her errand.

Loud Music.

To which the whole Scene opens; where SATURN sitting with VENUS is discovered above, and certain VoTARIES coming forth below, which are the CHORUS.

Fame. For you, great king, to whom the Time doth owe

All his respects and reverence, behold
How Saturn, urged at request of Love,
Prepares the object to the place to-night.
Within yond' darkness, Venus hath found out
That Hecate, as she is queen of shades,
Keeps certain glories of the time obscured,
There for herself alone to gaze upon,
As she did once the fair Endymion.

These, Time hath promised at Love's suit to free,
As being fitter to adorn the Age,

By you restored on earth, most like his own;
And fill this world of beauty here, your court:
To which his bounty, see, how men prepare
To fit their votes below, and thronging come
With longing passion to enjoy the effect!
Hark! it is Love begins to Time. Expect.

Ven. Beside, that it is done for Love,

It is a work, great Time, will prove
Thy honour, as men's hopes above.

[Music.