Is with thee still: But this not a place
To brabble in. Calianax, join hands.
Cal. He shall not have my hand.
King. This is no time

To force you to it. I do love you both:
Calianax, you look well to your office;
And you, Melantius, are welcome home,
Begin the masque!

[choice.
Mel. Sister, I joy to see you, and your
You look'd with my eyes when you took that
Be happy in him!
[man:
[Recorders play.
Evad. O, my dearest brother!
Your presence is more joyful, than this day
Can be unto me.

Back, my pale servant, for these eyes know how

To shoot far more and quicker rays than thou.
Cinth. Great queen, they be a troop for
whom alone

One of my clearest moons I have put on;
A troop, that looks as if thyself and I [by,
Had pluck'd our reins in, and our whips laid
Το gaze upon these mortals, that appear
Brighter than we.

Night. Then let us keep 'em here;
And never more our chariots drive away,
But hold our places, and out-shine the day.

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,
Of nymphs and shepherds: Let their songs
discover,

Easy and sweet, who is a happy lover.
Or, if thou woo't, then call thine own En-
dymion,

From the sweet flow'ry bed he lies upon,
On Latmus' top, thy pale beams drawn away;
And of this long night let him make a day.

Cinth. Thou dream'st, dark queen; that
fair boy was not mine,

Nor went I down to kiss him. Ease and wine
Have bred these bold tales: Poets, when they

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.
Go on; I'll be a helper.

Cinth. Hie thee then,

And charge the wind fly from his rocky den.
Let loose thy subjects; only Boreas,

Too foul for our intention, as he was, [here
Still keep him fast chain'd; We must have none
But vernal blasts, and gentle winds appear;
Such as blow flow'rs, and thro' the glad
boughs sing

Many soft welcomes to the lusty spring:
These are our music. Next, thy watry race
Bring on in couples (we are pleas'd to grace
This noble night), each in their richest things
Your own deeps, or the broken vessel, brings.
Be prodigal, and I shall be as kind,
And shine at full upon you.

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;
Thy full command has taken. Æol. Ho! the main;
Neptune. Nept. Here.

In all the others, the blanks between do and master is filled up with the word great. Mr.
Seward would fill it up with We're, and give the speech to Neptune; thus,

Nept. Do.

We're master of the flood, and all below

Thy full command has taken. Æol. Ho! the main!
Neptune!-Nept. Here.

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!
Nept. Æolus.

Eol. The seas go high,

Boreas hath rais'd a storm: Go and apply
Thy trident; else, I prophesy, ere day
Many a tall ship will be cast away.
Descend with all the gods, and all their
To strike a calm.

16

[power,' Cinth. A thanks to ev'ry one, and to congratulate

So great a service, done at my desire,
Ye shall have many floods, fuller and higher
Than you have wished for; no ebb shall dare
To let the day see where your dwellings are.
Now back unto your government in haste,
Lest
your proud charge should swell above the
And win upon the island.
[waste,
Nept. We obey.

[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,
And give my brother place.

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.

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.

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-
In giving me a spotless offering
To young Amintor's bed, as we are now
For you. Pardon, Evadne; 'would, my
Were great as yours, or that the king, or he,
Or both thought so! Perhaps, he found me
worthless:

But, till he did so, in these ears of mine,
These credulous ears, he pour'd the sweetest
words

That art or love could frame. If he were false,
Pardon it, Heaven! and if I did want
Virtue, you safely may forgive that too;
For I have lost that I had from you.

To keep your sorrow waking. Love your lord
No worse than I; but if you love so well,
Alas! you may displease him; so did I.
This is the last time you shall look on me.
Ladies, farewell. As soon as I am dead,
Come all, and watch one night about my
hearse;

Bring each a mournful story, and a tear,
To offer at it when I go to earth.

With flatt'ring ivy clasp my coffin round;
Write on my brow my fortune; let my bier
Be borne by virgins that shall sing, by course,
The truth of maids, and perjuries of men.
Evad. Alas, I pity thee. [Exit. Evad.
Omnes. Madam, good-night.
1 Lady. Come, we'll let in the bridegroom,
Dula. Where's
[mirth.
lord?

Evad. Nay, leave this sad talk, madam.
Asp. 'Would, I could! then should I leave

the cause,

Evad. See, if you have not spoil'd all Dula's
Asp. Thou think'st thy heart hard; but if
thou be'st caught,

Remember me; thou shalt perceive a fire
Shot suddenly into thee.

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.
Asp. Believe me, 'tis a very pretty one.
Evad. How is it, 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.
Asp. Madam, good-night. May all the
marriage-joys

That longing maids imagine in their beds,
Prove so unto you. May no discontent [do,
Grow 'twixt your love and you! But, if there
Enquire of me, and I will guide your moan;
Teach you au artificial way to grieve,

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.
May all the wrongs that you have done to me,
Be utterly forgotten in my death!

I'll trouble you no more; yet I will take
A parting kiss, and will not be deny'd.
You'll come, my lord, and see the virgins weep
When I am laid in earth, though you yourself
Can know no pity. Thus I wind myself
Into this willow garland, and am prouder
That I was once your love, though now refus'd,
Than to have had another true to me.
So with my prayers I leave you, and must try
Some yet unpractis'd way to grieve and die.

[Exit,

Dula. Come, ladies, will you go?
Omnes. Good-night, my lord.
Amin. Much happiness unto you all!
[Excunt ladies.
I did that lady wrong: Methinks, I feel
Her grief shoot suddenly through all my veins.
Mine eyes run: This is strange at such a time,
It was the king first mov'd me to't; but he
Has not my will in keeping. Why do I
Perplex myself thus? Something whispers me,
Go not to bed. My guilt is not so great
As my own conscience, too sensible [mise,
Would make me think: I only break a pro-
And 'twas the king that forc'd me. Tim'rous
flesh,

Why shak'st thou so? Away, my idle fears!
Enter Evadne.

Yonder she is, the lustre of whose eye
Can blot away the sad remembrance
Of all these things. Oh, my Evadne, spare
That tender body; let it not take cold.
The vapours of the night will not fall here:
To bed, my love. Hymen will punish us
For being slack performers of his rites.
Cam'st thou to call me?