for you in holidays, and laced with statute-tunes and dances, fitted to the activity of your tressels, to which you shall trust, lads, in the name of your Iniquo Vitruvius,' Hey for the lily, for, and the blended rose. Here the dance ended, and the Mechanics retired. The King and Queen had a second banquet set down before them from the clouds by two Loves, EROS and ANTEROS: one as the king's, the other as the queen's, differenced by their garlands only; his of white and red roses, the other of lilies interweaved, gold, silver, purple, &c., with a bough of palm in his hand cleft a little at the top; they were both armed and winged; with bows and quivers, cassocks, breeches, buskins, gloves and perukes alike. They stood silent a while, wondering at one another, till at last the lesser of them began to speak. Er. Another Cupid! An. Yes, your second self, A son of Venus, and as mere an elf And wag as you. Er. Eros? An. No, Anteros: Your brother Cupid, yet not sent to cross, Or spy into your favours here at court. Er. What then? An. To serve you, brother, and report Your graces from the queen's side to the king's, Er. Break my wings I fear you will. 1 Iniquo Vitruvius.] This miserable pun upon Inigo, is copied by the poet's friend, Philip, earl of Pembroke, in some angry remarks upon Jones, written in the margin of his work on Stonehenge. An. O be not jealous, brother! An. Give't me. You may have. Er. Divide it. [Snatches at the palm. [He divides it, and gives ANTEROS a part. An. So, Er. We have cleft the bough, And struck a tally of our loves too now. An. I call to mind the wisdom of our mother Venus, who would have Cupid have a brotherEr. To look upon and thrive. Me seems I grew Three inches higher since I met with you. It was the counsel that the oracle gave Your nurses, the glad Graces, sent to crave Themis' advice. You do not know, quoth she, The nature of this infant. Love may be Brought forth thus little, live awhile alone, But ne'er will prosper, if he have not one Sent after him to play with, such another As you are, Anteros, our loving brother. An. Who would be always planted in your eye; For love by love increaseth mutually. Er. We either, looking on each other, thrive. Er. Yes, and more alive! An. When one's away, it seems we both are less. Er. I was a dwarf, an urchin, I confess, Till you were present. An. But a bird of wing, Now fit to fly before a queen or king. Er. I have not one sick feather since you came, But turn'd a jollier Cupid, An. Than I am. Er. I love my mother's brain, could thus provide For both in court, and give us each our side, Where we might meet. An. Embrace. Er. Circle each other. An. Confer and whisper. Er. Brother with a brother. An. And by this sweet contention for the palm, Unite our appetites, and make them calm. Er. To will, and nill one thing. An. And so to move Affection in our wills, as in our love. Er. It is the place, sure, breeds it, where we are. An. The king and queen's court, which is circular, And perfect. Er. The pure school that we live in, And is of purer love, a discipline.' Enter PHILAlethes. No more of your poetry, pretty Cupids, lest presuming on your little wits, you profane the intention of your service. The place, I confess, wherein (by the providence of your mother Venus) you are now planted, is the divine school of Love: an academy or court, where all the true lessons of Love are thoroughly read and taught. The reasons, the pro 2 We have already had this fable in the Tilting at a Marriage. There is not much to be said of it here. In fact, these effusions, which attended the king in his progresses, and which perhaps came upon him unexpectedly, are merely little artifices of love and duty on the part of the noble hosts, to keep their sovereign with them as long as possible, and should not be too rigorously judged: they are, as Jonson says, "suddenly thought upon." portions and harmony, drawn forth in analytic tables, and made demonstrable to the senses. Which if you, brethren, should report, and swear to, would hardly get credit above a fable, here, in the edge of Derbyshire, the region of ale, because you relate in rhyme. O that rhyme is a shrewd disease, and makes all suspected it would persuade. Leave it, pretty Cupids, leave it. Rhyme will undo you, and hinder your growth and reputation in court, more than any thing beside, you have either mentioned or feared. If you dabble in poetry once, it is done of your being believed or understood here. No man will trust you in this verge, but conclude you for a mere case of canters, or a pair of wandering gipsies. Return to yourselves, little deities, and admire the miracles you serve, this excellent king and his unparalleled queen, who are the canons, the decretals, and whole school-divinity of Love. Contemplate and study them. Here shall you read Hymen, having lighted two torches, either of which inflame mutually, but waste not. One love by the other's aspect increasing, and both in the right lines of aspiring. The Fates spinning them round and even threads, and of their whitest wool, without brack or purl. Fortune and Time fettered at their feet with adamantine chains, their wings deplumed, for starting from them. All amiableness in the richest dress of delight and colours courting the season to tarry by them, and make the idea of their felicity perfect; together with the love, knowledge, and duty of their subjects perpetual. So wisheth the glad and grateful client, seated here, the overjoyed master of the house; and prayeth that the whole region about him could speak but his language. Which is, that first the people's love would let that people know their own happiness, and that knowledge could confirm their duties to an admiration of your sacred persons; descended, one from the most peaceful, the other the most warlike, both your pious and just progenitors; from whom, as out of peace, came strength, and "out of the strong came sweetness ;' so in you joined by holy marriage, in the flower and ripeness of years, live the promise of a numerous succession to your sceptres, and a strength to secure your own islands, with their own ocean, but more your own palm-branches, the types of perpetual victory. To which, two words be added, a zealous Amen, and ever rounded with a crown of Welcome. Welcome, welcome! |