This, "believe me on the breast,"
And then telling some man's jest,
Thinking to prefer his wit,
Equal with his suit by it,

I mean his clothes? No, no, no;
Here doth no such humour flow.
He can neither bribe a grace,
Nor encounter my lord's face
With a pliant smile, and flatter,
Though this lately were some matter
To the making of a courtier.
Now he hopes he shall resort there,
Safer, and with more allowance;
Since a hand hath governance,
That hath given these customs chace,
And hath brought his own in place.
O that now a wish could bring,
The god-like person of a king!
Then should even envy find,
Cause of wonder at the mind
Of our woodman: but lo, where
His kingly image doth appear,
And is all this while neglected.
Pardon, lord, you are respected,
Deep as is the keeper's heart,
And as dear in every part.

See, for instance, where he sends
his heir; who humbly bends

His son,

[Fetches out of the wood the lord Spencer's eldest son, attired and appointed like a huntsman.

Low as is his father's earth,

To the womb that gave you birth:

So he was directed first,

Next to you, of whom the thirst
Of seeing takes away the use
Of that part, should plead excuse
For his boldness, which is less
By his comely shamefacedness.
Rise up, sir, I will betray
All I think you have to say;
That your father gives you here
(Freely as to him you were)
To the service of this prince:
And with you these instruments
Of his wild and sylvan trade.
Better not Actæon had;

The bow was Phoebe's, and the horn,
By Orion often worn:

The dog of Sparta breed, and good,
As can RING within a wOOD;
Thence his name is: you shall try
How he hunteth instantly.
But perhaps the queen, your mother,
Rather doth affect some other
Sport, as coursing: we will prove
Which her highness most doth love.-
Satyrs, let the woods resound;

They shall have their welcome crowu'd
With a brace of bucks to ground.

At that the whole wood and place resounded with the noise of cornets, horns, and other hunting music, and a brace of choice deer put out, and as fortunately killed, as they were meant to be, even in the sight of her majesty.

This was the First Night's Show.

The next day being Sunday, the Queen rested, and on Monday till after dinner; where there was a speech suddenly thought on, to induce a morris of the clowns thereabout, who most officiously presented themselves: but by reason of the throng of the country that came in, their speaker could not be heard, who was in the person of NOBODY, to deliver this following speech, and attired in a pair of breeches which were made to come up to his neck, with his arms out at his pockels, and a cap drowning his face.

If my outside move your laughter,
Pray Jove, my inside be thereafter.
QUEEN, PRINCE, DUKE, EARLS,
COUNTESSES, you courtly pearls!
(And I hope no mortal sin,
If I put less ladies in)

Fair saluted be you all!

At this time it doth befall,

We are the buisher to a morris,

A kind of masque, whereof good store is
In the country hereabout,

But this, the choice of all the rout,
Who, because that no man sent them,
Have got NOBODY to present them.
These are things have no suspicion
Of their ill-doing; nor ambition
Of their well: but as the pipe
Shall inspire them, mean to skip :
They come to see, and to be seen,

And though they dance afore the queen,
There's none of these doth hope to come by
Wealth to build another Holmby:
All those dancing days are done,
Men must now have more than one
Grace, to build their fortunes on,
Else our soles would sure have gone,

All by this time to our feet.

I not deny where graces meet
In a man, that quality
Is a graceful property:

But when dancing is his best,
Beshrew me, I suspect the rest.
But I am Nobody, and my breath,
Soon as it is born, hath death.

Come on, clowns, forsake your dumps,
And bestir your hob-nail'd stumps,

Do your worst, I'll undertake,

Not a jerk you have shall make
Any lady here in love.

Perhaps your fool, or so, may move
Some lady's woman with a trick,
And upon it she may pick

A pair of revelling legs, or two,
Out of you, with much ado.
But see, the hobby-horse is forgot.
Fool, it must be your lot,
To supply his want with faces,
And some other buffoon graces,
You know how; piper, play,
And let Nobody hence away.

[Here the morris-dancers entered

There was also another parting speech, which was to have been presented in the person of a youth, and accompanied with divers gentlemen's younger sons of the country: but by reason of the multitudinous press, was also hindered. And which we have here adjoinod. And will you then, mirror of queens, depart? Shall nothing stay you? not my master's heart, That pants to lose the comfort of your light, And see his day, ere it be old, grow night? You are a goddess, and your will be done: Yet this our last hope is, that as the sun Cheers objects far removed, as well as near; So, wheresoe'er you shine, you'll sparkle here. And you, dear lord, on whom my covetous eye Doth feed itself, but cannot satisfy,

The King and Queen being entered in at the gate, the PENATES, or household gods, received them, attired after the antique manner, with javelins in their hands, standing on each side of the porch.

1 Pen. Leap, light hearts, in ev'ry breast,
Joy is now the fittest passion;
Double majesty hath blest

All the place, with that high grace
Exceedeth admiration!

2 Pen. Welcome, monarch of this isle,
Europe's envy, and her mirror;
Great in each part of thy style;
England's wish, and Scotland's bliss,
Both France and Ireland's terror.

1 Pen. Welcome are you; and no less,
Your admired queen: the glory
Both of state, and comeliness.
Every line of her divine

Form, is a beauteous story.

2 Pen. High in fortune, as in blood,
So are both; and blood renowned
By oft falls, that make a flood
In your veins: yet all these strains
Are in your virtues drowned.

1 Pen. House, be proud: for of earth's store
These two only are the wonder:
In them she's rich, and is no more.
Zeal is bound their praise to sound
As loud as fame, or thunder.

2 Pen. Note, but how the air, the spring
Concur in their devotions;

Pairs of turtles sit and sing

On each tree, o'er-joy'd to see
In them like love, like motions.

1 Pen. Enter, sir, this longing door,
Whose glad lord nought could have
Equally I'm sure not more, [blessed
Than this sight: save of your right,
When you were first possessed.

Here the Penates lead them in, thorough the house, into the garden, where Mercury received them, walking before them.

Mer. Retire, you household-gods, and leave these excellent creatures to be entertained by a more eminent deity. [Exeunt Pen.] Hail, king and queen of the Islands, called truly Fortunate. and by you made so. To tell you who I am, and weat all these notable and speaking ensigns abou! me, were to challenge you of most impossible ignorance, and accuse myself of as palpable glory: it is enough that you know me here, and come with the license of my father Jove, who is the bounty of heaven, to give you early welcome to the bower of my mother Maia, no less the goodness of earth. And may it please you to walk, I will tell you no wonderful story. This place, whereon you are now advanced (by the mighty power of poetry, and the help of a faith that can remove mountains) is the Arcadian hill Cyllene, the place where myself was both begot and born: and of which I am frequently called Cyllenius: Under yond' purslane tree stood sometime my cradle. Where now hehold my mother Maia, sitting in the pride of their plenty, gladding the air with her breath, and cheering the spring with her smiles. At her feet, the blushing Aurora, who, with her rosy hand, casteth her honey-dews on those sweeter herbs, accompanied with that gentle wind Favonius, whose subtile spirit, in the breathing forth, Flora makes into flowers, and sticks them in the grass, as if she contended to have the embroidery of the earth richer than the cope of the sky. Here, for her month, the yearly delicate May keeps state; and from this mount takes pleasure to display these valleys, yond' lesser hills, those statelier edifices and towers, that seem enamoured so far off, and are rear'd on end to behold her, as if their utmost object were her beauties. Hither the Dryads of the valley, and nymphs of the great river come every morning to taste of her favours; and depart away with laps filled with her bounties. But, sec! upon your approach, their pleasures are instantly remitted. The birds are hush'd, Zephyr is still, the morn forbears her office, Flora is dumb, and herself amazed, to behold two such marvels, that do more adorn place than she can time: pardon, your majesty, the fault, for it is that hath caused it; and till they

No, though she should invite a several pair.

Which ended, Maia (seated in her bower, with all those
personages about her, as before described) began to
raise herself, and, then declining, spake.
Mai. If all the pleasures were distill'd

Of every flower in every field,
And all that Hybla's hives do yield,
Were into one broad mazer fill'd;
If, thereto, added all the gums,
And spice that from Panchaia comes,
The odour that Hydaspes lends,
Or Phoenix proves before she ends;
If all the air my Flora drew,
Or spirit that Zephyre ever blew ;
Were put therein; and all the dew
That ever rosy morning knew;
Yet all diffused upon this bower,
To make one sweet detaining hour,
Were much too little for the grace,
And honour, you vouchsafe the place.
But if you please to come again,
We vow, we will not then, with vain
And empty pastimes entertain
Your so desired, tho' grieved pain.
For we will have the wanton fawns,
That frisking skip about the lawns,
The Panisks, and the Sylvans rude,
Satyrs, and all that multitude,

To dance their wilder rounds about,
And cleave the air, with many a shout,
As they would hunt poor Echo out
Of yonder valley, who doth flout
Their rustic noise. To visit whom
You shall behold whole bevies come
Of gaudy nymphs, whose tender calls
Well-tuned unto the many falls
Of sweet, and several sliding rills,
That stream from tops of those less hills,
Sound like so many silver quills,
When Zephyre them with music fills.
For these, Favonius here shall blow
New flowers, which you shall see to grow,
Of which each hand a part shall take,
And, for your heads, fresh garlands make.
Wherewith, whilst they your temples round,
An air of several birds shall sound
An Io Pæan, that shall drown
The acclamations, at your crown.-

this, and more than have of May vows, so you will oft come here a maying.

Mer. And Mercury, her son, shall venture the displeasure of his father, with the whole bench of heaven, that day, but he will do his mother's intents all serviceable assistance. Till then, and ever, live high and happy, you, and your other you; both envied for your fortunes, loved for your graces, and admired for your virtues.

[This was the morning's entertainment. After dinner, the king and queen coming again into the garden, Mercury the second time accosted them. Mer. Again, great pair, I salute you; and with leave of all the gods, whose high pleasure it is, that Mercury make this your holiday. May all the blessings, both of earth and heaven, concur to thank you for till this day's sun, I have faintly enjoyed a minute's rest to my creation. Now I do, and acknowledge it your sole, and no less than divine benefit. If my desire to delight you might not divert to your trouble, I would intreat your eyes to a new and strange spectacle; a certain son of mine, whom the Arcadians call a god, howsoever the rest of the world receive him: it is the horned Pan, whom in the translated figure of a goat I begot on the fair Spartan Penelope; May, let both your ears and looks forgive it; these are but the lightest escapes of us deities. And it is better in me to prevent his rustic impudence, by my blushing acknowledgment, than anon by his rude, and not insolent claim, be inforced to confess him. Yonder he keeps, and with him the wood nymphs, whose leader he is in rounds and dances, to this sylvan music. The place, about which they skip, is the fount of laughter, or Bacchus' spring; whose statue is advanced on the top; and from whose pipes, at an observed hour of the day, there flows a lusty liquor, that hath a present virtue to expel sadness; and within certain minutes after it is tasted, force all the mirth of the spleen into the face. Of this is Pan the guardian. Lo! the fountain begins to run, but the nymphs at your sight are fled, Pan and his satyrs wildly stand at gaze. will approach, and question him: vouchsafe your ear, and forgive his behaviour, which even to me, that am his parent, will no doubt be rude enough. though otherwise full of salt, which except my presence did temper, might turn to be gall and bitterness; but that shall charm him.

Pan. O, it is Mercury! hollow them, agen. What be all these, father, gods, or men?

I

Mer. All human. Only these two are deities on earth, but such, as the greatest powers of heaven may resign to.

Pan. Why did our nymphs run away, can you Here be sweet beauties love Mercury well; [tell? I see by their looks. How say you, great master? [Advances to the king. Will you be pleased to hear? shall I be your taster? Mer. Pan, you are too rude.

Pan. It is but a glass, By my beard, and my horns, 'tis a health, and shall Were he a king, and his mistress a queen, [pass. This draught shall make him a petulant spleen. But trow, is he loose, or costive of laughter? I'd know, to fill him his glass, thereafter, Sure either my skill, or my sight doth mock, Or this lording's look should not care for the smock;

The King and Queen, with the princes of Wales and Lorrain, and the nobility, being entered into the gallery, after dinner there was seen nothing but a traverse of white across the room: which suddenly drawn, was discovered a gloomy obscure place, hung all with black silks, and in it only one light, which the Genius of the house held, sadly attired; his Cornucopiæ ready to fall out of his hand, his gyrland drooping on his head, his eyes fixed on the ground; when, out of this pensive posture, after some little pause, he brake and began.

GENIUS.

Let not your glories darken, to behold

The place, and me, her Genius here, so sad; Who, by bold rumour, have been lately told, That I must change the loved lord I had. And he, now, in the twilight of sere age,

Begin to seek a habitation new;
And all his fortunes, and himself engage
Unto a seat, his fathers never knew.
And I, uncertain what I must endure,
Since all the ends of destiny are obscure.

MERCURY. [From behind the darkness.] Despair not, Genius, thou shalt know thy fate. And withal, the black vanishing, was discovered a glorious place, figuring the Lararium, or seat of the household gods, where both the Lares and Penates were painted in copper colour; erected with columns and architrave, fricze and cornice, in which were placed divers diaphanal glasses, filled with several waters, that shewed like so many stones of orient and transparent hues. Within, as farther off, in landscape, were seen clouds riding, and in one corner, a boy figuring Good Event attired in white, hovering in the air, with wings displayed, having nothing seen to sustain him by, all the time the shew lasted. At the other corner, a Mercury descended in a flying pos ture, with his caduceus in his hand, who spake to the three Parca, that sate low in a grate, with an iron roof, the one holding the rock, the other the spindle and the third the sheers, with a book of adamant lying

open before them. But first the Genius, surprized by wonder, urged this doubt.

GENIUS. [Aside.]

What sight is this, so strange, and full of state!
The son of Maia, making his descent
Unto the fates, and met with Good Event?—

MERCURY.

Daughters of Night and Secrecy, attend;

You that draw out the chain of destiny, Upon whose threads, both lives and times depend, And all the periods of mortality;

The will of Jove is, that you straight do look The change, and fate unto this house decreed, And speaking from your adamantine book,

Unto the Genius of the place it read;
That he may know, and knowing bless his lot,
That such a grace beyond his hopes hath got.
CLOTHO. [Reads.]

When underneath thy roof is seen
The greatest king, the fairest queen,

With princes an unmatched pair,

One, hope of all the earth, their heir;
The other styled of Lorrain,

Their blood and sprung from Charlemaine.
When all these glorics jointly shine,
And fill thee with a heat divine,
And these reflected, do beget
A splendent sun, shall never set,
But here shine fixed, to affright
All after-hopes of following night,
Then, Genius, is thy period come,
To change thy lord: thus fates do doom.
GENIUS.

But is my patron with this lot content,
So to forsake his father's monument?
Or is it gain, or else necessity,

Or will to raise a house of better frame,
That makes him snut forth his posterity
Out of his patrimony, with his name?