And brake her heart! It was the quaintest sadness, To see the conqueror upon her hearse,

To weep a funeral elegy of tears;

That, trust me, my Amethus, I could chide'
Mine own unmanly weakness, that made me
A fellow-mourner with him.

Amet. I believe thee.

Men. He look'd upon the trophies of his art, Then sigh'd, then wiped his eyes, then sigh'd and cried:

"Alas, poor creature! I will soon revenge
This cruelty upon the author of it;

Henceforth this lute, guilty of innocent blood,
Shall never more betray a harmless peace
To an untimely end:" and in that sorrow,
As he was pashing it against a tree,
I suddenly stept in.

Amet. Thou hast discours'd

A truth of mirth and pity."
Men. I repriev'd

The intended execution with intreaties,
And interruption.-But, my princely friend,

I could chide, &c.] It should rather be, I could not chide; unless the speaker means to insinuate that his grief was too poignant and profuse, for a man.

As he was pashing it against a tree.] i. e. dashing it. See Massinger, vol. i. p. 38.

7

-Thou hast discours'd

A truth of mirth and pity.]

This is evidently corrupt; but I can suggest no remedy. The sense might be somewhat improved by reading tale for truth, or, with less violence, I' truth, of, &c.: but what can be done with mirth? pathetic, indeed, this most beautiful tale is, but it certainly contains nothing of merriment.

It was not strange the music of his hand

Did overmatch birds, when his voice and beauty,
Youth, carriage and discretion must, from men
Indued with reason, ravish admiration:
From me, they did.

Amet. But is this miracle

Not to be seen?

Men. I won him by degrees

To choose me his companion. Whence he is,
Or who, as I durst modestly inquire,

So gently he would woo not to make known;
Only (for reasons to himself reserv'd)

He told me, that some remnant of his life
Was to be spent in travel: for his fortunes,
They were nor mean, nor riotous; his friends
Not publish'd to the world, though not obscure;
His country Athens, and his name Parthenophill.
Amet. Came he with you to Cyprus?

Men. Willingly.

The fame of our young melancholy prince,
Meleander's rare distractions, the obedience
Of young Cleophila, Thamasta's glory,

Your matchless friendship, and my desperate love
Prevail'd with him; and I have lodg'd him privately
In Famagosta.

Amet. Now thou art doubly welcome :

I will not lose the sight of such a rarity

For one part of my hopes. When do you intend To visit my great-spirited sister?

Men. May I Without offence?

C

Amet. Without offence!-Parthenophill

Shall find a worthy entertainment too.
Thou art not still a coward?

Men. She's too excellent,

And I too low in merit.

Amet. I'll prepare

A noble welcome; and, friend, ere we part,
Unload to thee an overcharged heart.

SCENE II.

Another Room in the Palace.

Enter RHETIAS, carelessly attired.

[Exeunt.

Rhe. I will not court the madness of the times; Not fawn upon the riots that embalm

Our wanton gentry, to preserve the dust
Of their affected vanities in coffins

Of memorable shame. When commonwealths
Totter and reel from that nobility,

And ancient virtue which renowns the great,

Who steer the helm of government, while mush

rooms

Grow up, and make new laws to license folly;

8

Why should not I, a May-game, scorn the weight

8

Why should not I, a May-game, &c.] i. e. an unconsidered trifle, a jest, a piece of mirth. This expression occurs in the same sense in the next piece :

"Wilt thou make thyself a May-game

To all the world?"

The motive which Rhetias assigns for assuming the part of an alllicensed fool is not very creditable to him: nor does he turn the character to much account. Some part of what he here says, however, though it might be expressed with less effort, is the result of sound observation.

Of my sunk fortunes? snarl at the vices"
Which rot the land, and, without fear or wit,
Be mine own antick? 'Tis a sport to live
When life is irksome, if we will not hug
Prosperity in others, and contemn

Affliction in ourselves. This rule is certain:
"He that pursues his safety from the school
"Of state, must learn to be madman or fool."
Ambition, wealth, ease I renounce-the devil
That damns you here on earth.-Or I will be
Mine own mirth, or mine own tormentor.-So!

Enter PELIAS.

Here comes intelligence; a buzz o' the court.
Pel. Rhetias, I sought thee out to tell thee news,
New, excellent new news. Cuculus, sirrah,
That gull, that young old gull, is coming this way.
Rhe. And thou art his forerunner!

Pel. Prithee, hear me.

Instead of a fine guarded' page we have got him
A boy, trick'd up in neat and handsome fashion;
Persuaded him, that 'tis indeed a wench,
And he has entertain'd him; he does follow him,

Snarl at the vices.] Snarl (as well as girl) is commonly made a dissyllable by our poet: he passed his youth in the neighbourhood of Dartmoor, and probably adopted the practice of that wild district. This mode of enunciation still prevails in the northern counties, at least in poetry, where, what to an English ear sounds like a soft d, is interposed between r and 7, in such monosyllables as end with these two letters.

'Instead of a fine guarded page.] i. e. of a page with a livery richly laced, or turned up. The expression is common to all our old writers.

Carries his sword and buckler, waits on's trencher,
Fills him his wine, tobacco; whets his knife,
Lackeys his letters, does what service else
He would employ his man in. Being ask'd
Why he is so irregular in courtship,

His answer is, that since great ladies use
Gentlemen-ushers, to go bare before them,
He knows no reason, but he may reduce
The courtiers to have women wait on them;
And he begins the fashion: he is laughed at
Most complimentally.-Thou'lt burst to see him.
Rhe. Agelastus, so surnamed for his gravity,*
was a very wise fellow, kept his countenance all
days of his life as demurely as a judge that pro-
nounceth sentence of death on a poor rogue, for
stealing as much bacon as would serve at a meal
with a calf's head. Yet he smiled once, and never
but once;-thou art no scholar?

Pel. I have read pamphlets dedicated to me.-Dost call him Agelastus? Why did he laugh?

Rhe. To see an ass eat thistles, puppy:-go,· study to be a singular coxcomb. Cuculus is an ordinary ape; but thou art an ape of an ape.

2

Pel. Thou hast a patent to abuse thy friends.

Agelastus, so surnamed for his gravity, &c.] Thus Jonson, in the New Inn:

"The Roman alderman,

Old master Gross, surnamed 'Ayéλasos,

Was never seen to laugh, but at an ass.'

The story is in Pliny, who tells it of Crassus, the grandfather of the unfortunate Crassus, who fell the victim of his rapacity in Parthia.