Hip. As Perseus, Castor, Pollux, and the rest, Who were of hunters first, of men the best; Whose shades do yet remain within yond' groves, Themselves there sporting with their nobler loves. Dia. And so may these do, if the Time give leave. Sat. Chaste Dian's purpose we do now conceive, And yield thereto. Ven. And so doth Love. Vot. All votes do in one circle move. Grand Cho. Turn hunters then, Hunting, it is the noblest exercise, The memory, good horsemanship, Turn hunters then, Again, But not of men. And just example, That hates all chase of malice, and of blood: To keep soft peace in breath. But strike the enemies of man; Kill vices if you can: They are your wildest beasts, And when they thickest fall, you make the gods true feasts. Thus it ended. NEPTUNE'S TRIUMPH FOR THE RETURN OF ALBION. Celebrated in a Masque at the Court on the Twelfth-night, 1624. Omnis et ad reducem jam litat ara Deum. MART. NEPTUNE'S TRIUMPH, &c.] Charles (i. e. Albion) returned from his ill-fated expedition to Spain, on the fifth of October, in the preceding year (1623.) Before this Masque appeared, the Spanish match was completely broken off, and James, who had long set his heart upon it, and for several years honestly and sedulously laboured to effect it, wearied out at length by the interminable juggling of the court of Spain, was, by this time, reconciled to the disappointment. Neptune's Triumph appears to have been celebrated with uncommon magnificence. All hearts and hands were in it; and the Spanish influence then received a check, from which it has not recovered to this day. NEPTUNE'S TRIUMPH, &c. His Majesty being set, and the loud music ceasing. All that is discovered of a scene, are two erected pillars, dedicated to Neptune, with this inscription upon the one, NEP. RE D. On the other, SE C. JO V. The POET entering on the stage, to disperse the ment, is called to by the MASTER-COOK. argu Cook. Do you hear, you creature of diligence and business? what is the affair, that you pluck for so, under your cloke? Poet. Nothing, but what I colour for, I assure you; and may encounter with, I hope, if luck favour me, the gamesters' goddess. Cook. You are a votary of hers, it seems, by your language. What went you upon, may a man ask you? Poet. Certainties, indeed, sir, and very good ones; the representation of a masque; you'll see't anon. Cook. Sir, this is my room, and region too, the Banquetting-house. And in matter of feast, the solemnity, nothing is to be presented here, but with my acquaintance and allowance to it. Poet. You are not his majesty's confectioner, are you? Cook. No, but one that has a good title to the room, his Master-cook. What are you, sir? Poet. The most unprofitable of his servants, I, sir, the Poet. A kind of a Christmas ingine: one that is used at least once a year, for a trifling instrument of wit, or so. Cook. Were you ever a cook? Poet. A cook! no, surely. Cook. Then you can be no good poet: for a good poet differs nothing at all from a mastercook. Either's art is the wisdom of the mind. Poet. As how, sir? Cook. Expect. I am by my place, to know how to please the palates of the guests; so you are to know the palates of the times; study the several tastes, what every nation, the Spaniard, the Dutch, the French, the Walloun, the Neapolitan, the Britain, the Sicilian, can expect from you. Poet. That were a heavy and hard task, to satisfy Expectation, who is so severe an exactress of duties; ever a tyrannous mistress, and most times a pressing enemy. Cook. She is a powerful great lady, sir, at all times, and must be satisfied: so must her sister, madam Curiosity, who hath as dainty a palate as she; and these will expect. Poet. But what if they expect more than they understand? Cook. That's all one, master Poet, you are bound to satisfy them. For there is a palate of the understanding, as well as of the senses. The taste is taken with good relishes, the sight with fair objects, the hearing with delicate sounds, |