Is with thee still: But this not a place To force you to it. I do love you both: [choice. Back, my pale servant, for these eyes know how To shoot far more and quicker rays than thou. One of my clearest moons I have put on; Night. Then let us keep 'em here; Cinth. Great queen of shadows, you are pleas'd to speak [break Of more than may be done: We may not The gods' decrees; but, when our time is come, Must drive away, and give the day our room.8 Night. Then shine at full, fair queen, and by thy pow'r Produce a birth, to crown this happy hour, Easy and sweet, who is a happy lover. From the sweet flow'ry bed he lies upon, Cinth. Thou dream'st, dark queen; that Nor went I down to kiss him. Ease and wine 7 Quite thro' a cloud.] This is the reading of all the copies; but we think quick would be a much better word, and therefore more likely to have been used by our Authors. To this speech of Cinthia the ten following lines are first added in the edition of 1630, fifteen years after the death of Beaumont, five after that of Fletcher. They have maintained their situation in the text ever since; but as we apprehend they contain not the least poetic fire, nor ingenious imagery, which can entitle them to a place with the other parts of this masque, or induce us to believe they came from either Beaumont's or Fletcher's pen, we have ventured to remove them to this place; and apprehend, if any apology is necessary, it must be for not totally cutting off their association with the writings of such deservedly-admired poets. • Thy surges laid away.] The printed word hitherto has been laid; but I think it scarce sense. Neptune in leaving the ocean is never supposed either to bring his surges with him, or lay them aside, but barely to leave them. The word lade will signify his parting the waves with his trident to give him a free passage; which is an image quite poetical. Mr. Seward. Something intended, Cinthia, worthy thee. Cinth. Hie thee then, And charge the wind fly from his rocky den. Too foul for our intention, as he was, [here Many soft welcomes to the lusty spring: Nept. Ho! the "wind Commanding Eolus! 10 10 It has been suggested to us, by a gentlemen whose judgment we have the greatest reason to rely on, and whose assistance we are happy to enjoy, that this passage wants explanation. We apprehend it means, "Bring on in couples your watry race, naïads, tritons, &c, adorned with the richest ornaments your waters naturally produce, or which wrecked vessels can furnish them with." So afterwards, in Neptune's charge to Eolus, he says, "Tell them to put on their greatest pearls, and the most sparkling stone the beaten rock breeds." "Ho! the wind Commanding Eolus!] All the editions have mistaken the intention of the authors here. 'Tis well known olus, in poetic fable, was the master and controuler of the winds; which he was supposed to keep bound in a cave, and to let loose upon the ocean as he was commanded by Neptune. He is therefore called here the wind-commanding Eolus; a compound adjective which must be wrote with an hyphen, as I have reformed the text. The editors were led into a mistake by the word being divided, and put into two lines for the preservation of the rhyme. I ought to take notice, for two reasons, that both Mr. Seward and Mr. Sympson joined with me in starting this correction: Because it is doing justice to the sagacity of my friends; and, besides, it is certainly a great confirmation of the truth of an emendation, where three persons, all distant from one another, strike out the same observation: Mr. Theobald. 12 In the first edition of this play we read, Nept. Do, master of the flood and all below; In all the others, the blanks between do and master is filled up with the word great. Mr. Nept. Do. We're master of the flood, and all below Thy full command has taken. Æol. Ho! the main! We have followed Mr. Theobald's edition; thinking his mode, however aukward and hasty the departures and re entrances of Eolus may be, preferable to Mr. Seward's conjecture; and also to the older editions, which cannot be followed; for our Authors could not mean to make Neptune call olus "master of the flood." 13 The beaten rock breeds.] The old quarto's read, beating; the edition of 1711, bearing; Mr. Theobald's, beaten; which we suppose to be the true reading. Eol. Ho! Neptune! Eol. The seas go high, Boreas hath rais'd a storm: Go and apply 16 [power,' Cinth. A thanks to ev'ry one, and to congratulate So great a service, done at my desire, [Neptune descends, and the sea gods. Cinth. Hold up thy head, dead Night; seest thou not Day? The East begins to lighten: I must down, 14 If not her measure.] This is the reading of the old quarto's. Mr. Theobald not comprehending the passage, arbitrarily expunges it. The easy alteration admitted into the text is the emendation of Mr. Seward; which certainly (as he says) by a very slight change, restores good sense to the words.' 15 The tunes my Amphitrite joys, &c.] The old editions read, THY tunes, which is plainly an error of the press. The meaning of the passage is briefly this: Neptune tells Cynthia, that in order to add to the celebrity of the present hour, he has brought those airs, with which Amphitrite was wont to be delighted, as the prelude to a storm; and which, accordingly, he orders his tritons to play. 16 Mr. Theobald remarks, As the rhymes are here interrupted, something must be lost; a defect which is not to be supplied by conjecture.' However, in that gentleman's edition we find this defect partly supplied; for he reads, We have followed the old copies; from which we never chuse to depart, as Mr. Theobalā ●ften does, without any authority, without improving the poetry, or adding to the sense. Night. Oh, I could frown To see the Day, the Day that flings his light Upon my kingdom, and contemns old Night! Let him go on and flame! I hope to see Another wild-fire in his axletree; [queen. And all fall drench'd. But I forgot, speak, The day grows on; I must no more be seen. Cinth. Heave up thy drowsy head again, A greater light, a greater majesty, [and see Between our sect and us!" Whip up thy team! The day-break's here, and yon sun-flaring beam Shot from the South. Say which way wilt thou go? A dozen wanton words, put in your head, Dula. So will I make The ablest man in Rhodes, or his heart ake. know. Dula. Madam, we'll do't, and make 'em leave play too. Evad. Aspatia, take her part. Dula. I will refuse it. [it. She will pluck down aside; she does not use Evad. Why, do. Dula. You will find the play Quickly, because your head lies well that way. Evad. I thank thee, Dula. 'Would, thou could'st instil Some of thy mirth into Aspalia! [dwell: Nothing but sad thought in her breast do Methinks, a mean betwixt you would do well. Dula. She is in love: Hang me, if I were so, But I could run my country. I love, too, To do those things that people in love do. Asp. It were a timeless smile should prove my cheek: It were a fitter hour for me to laugh, [been 17 Between our sect and us;] This is nonsense. The Night and Cinthia both talk of the morning's approach, and that they must go down; till the latter finds out, that they are only the rays of light shot from the king and court, which they mistook for the day-break. Hence it's plain, it should be wrote-Between our set and us; i. e. our setting, or, going down. Mr. Seward. We admit the justice of Mr. Seward's explanation of the sense of this passage; but do not see the necessity for any alteration. We have therefore followed the old copies; which only imply, by an extravagant compliment, that the brightness of the court transcends that of the Sun, and is more repugnant to Night and her attendants than even the splendor of the Day. 18 Mr. Theobald apprehends (we think with reason) that these and Dula's two preceding lines form a stanza of some old known ballad. Act 2.] [ploy'd worth My night; and all your hands have been em- But, till he did so, in these ears of mine, That art or love could frame. If he were false, To keep your sorrow waking. Love your lord Bring each a mournful story, and a tear, With flatt'ring ivy clasp my coffin round; Evad. Nay, leave this sad talk, madam. the cause, Evad. See, if you have not spoil'd all Dula's Remember me; thou shalt perceive a fire Dula. That not so good; let 'em shoot thing but fire, I fear 'em not. any Asp. Well, wench, thou may'st be taken. Evad. Ladies, good-night: I'll do the rest myself. Dula. Nay, let your lord do some. Asp. Lay a garland on my hearse, Of the dismal yew. Evad. That's one of your sad songs, madam. Or if not, give me all that I shall see at last. Evad. So, leave me now. Dula. Nay, we must see you laid. That longing maids imagine in their beds, VOL. I. my Enter Amintor. 1 Lady. Here, take this light. Dula. You'll find her in the dark. 1 Lady. Your lady's scarce a-bed yet; you must help her. Asp. Go, and be happy in your lady's love. I'll trouble you no more; yet I will take [Exit, Dula. Come, ladies, will you go? Why shak'st thou so? Away, my idle fears! Yonder she is, the lustre of whose eye |