That he has favourers, Fame, and great ones too; That unctuous Bounty is the boss of Billingsgate.' Ears. Who feasts his muse with claret wine and oysters. Nose. Grows big with satyr. Ears. Goes as long as an elephant. Eyes. She labours, and lies in of his inventions. Nose. Has a male poem in her belly now, Big as a colt Ears. That kicks at Time already. Eyes. And is no sooner foaled, but will neigh sulphur. Fame. The next. His press in a hollow tree, &c.] There is very little exaggeration in this lively satire; it sufficient to read the state-papers of the daydius by Seneca. Ears. And all together by the ears o' th sudden. Eyes. And when the matter is at hottest, then All fall asleep. Fame. Agree among yourselves, Nose. Not upon what? Something that 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 Fame. These are mere monsters. Fame. You do abuse the Time. These are fit freedoms 1 And sing a rare black Sanctus.] The black "The Monks Hymn to Saunte Satan." It Sanctus was a profane parody of some hymn in occurs in Beaumont and Fletcher: the Mass book; and the tune to which it was "Let's sing him a black Sanctus, then let's all howl set was probably loud and discordant, to assist the ridicule. As a satire on the monks, whom In our own beastly voices."-Mad Lover. it lashes with some kind of coarse humour, it And is also introduced by Phil. Holland in his appears to have been very popular. It may be translation of Livy: Nata in vanos tumultus referred to the times of Hen. VIII., when to gens, truci cantu, clamoribusque variis, horcriminate the ancient possessors of the monas-rendo cuncta impleverunt sono.-Lib. v. c. 37. teries was to render a most acceptable service to that hateful tyrant and his rapacious court. Sir J. Harrington, who printed it entire, calls it "With an hideous and dissonant kind of singing like a black Sanctus, they filled all about with a fearful and horrible noise." SATURN and VENUS pass away, and the MASQUERS descend. Cho. What grief or envy had it been That these and such had not been seen, But still obscured in shade! Who are the glories of the Time, Of youth and feature too the prime, And for the light were made. 1 Vot. Their very number, how it takes! 2 Vot. What harmony their presence makes ! I Vot. How they inflame the place! For whom could Love have better sued, Here to a loud Music, they march into their figure, and dance their ENTRY, or first DANCE. After which, o Ven. The night could not these glories miss, Good Time, I hope, is ta'en with this. Sat. If Time were not, I'm sure Love is. Between us it shall be no strife, For now 'tis Love gives Time his life. Vot. Let Time then so with Love conspire, As straight be sent into the court, A little Cupid, armed with fire, Attended by a jocund Sport, To breed delight, and a desire Of being delighted in the nobler sort. Sat. The wish is crowned as soon as made. Vot. And Cupid conquers ere he doth His victories of lightest trouble prove, Then follows the MAIN DANCE; Which done, CUPID, with the SPORT, comes forward. Cup. [to the Masquers.] Take breath awhile, young bloods, to bring Your forces up, whilst we go sing Fresh charges to the beauties here. Sport. Or if they charge you, do not fear, Though they be better armed than you; It is but standing the first view, I Vot. These, these must sure some won- And then they yield. ders be! Cho. O, what a glory 'tis to see Men's wishes, Time, and Love agree. 4 pause. Cup. Or quit the field. Sport. Nay, that they'll never do. They'll rather fall upon the place, Than suffer such disgrace. You are but men at best, they say, [Pause. Cup. [to the King.] You, sir, that are the Receive it not as any crime Upon yourself. He hath his eyes. For here are ladies that would give [Pause. Cup. [to the Lords.] My lords, the honours of the crown, Put off your sourness, do not frown, Sport. Trust nothing that the boy lets fall, To make you quit all thought of state, Alas, thy service they despise. They need not Love's, they've Nature's Cup. I see the Beauty that you so report. Sport. Cupid, you must not point in court, Where live so many of a sort. Of Harmony these learned their speech, Cup. Arm, arm them all. Sport. Young bloods, come on, And charge; let every man take one. Herself unto thee, rather to complain I called these youths forth in their blood Out of the honour that I bore their parts, To make them fitter so to serve the Time By labour, riding, and those ancient arts, |