Cal. Now, Crotolon, the suit we join'd in must

not

Fall by too long demur.

Crot. "Tis granted, princess,

For my part.

Arm. With condition, that his son

Favour the contract.

Cal. Such delay is easy.

The joys of marriage make thee, Prophilus,
A proud deserver of Euphranea's love,
And her of thy desert!

Pro. Most sweetly gracious!

Bass. The joys of marriage are the heaven on earth,

Life's paradise, great princess, the soul's quiet,
Sinews of concord, earthly immortality,
Eternity of pleasures;-no restoratives

Like to a constant woman!-(but where is she?
'Twould puzzle all the gods, but to create
Such a new monster) (aside)-I can speak by proof,
For I rest in Elysium; 'tis my happiness.

In

Crot. Euphranea, how are you resolv'd, speak freely,

your affections to this gentleman?

Euph. Nor more, nor less than as his love as

sures me;

Which (if your liking with my brother's warrants) I cannot but approve in all points worthy.

Crot. So, so! I know your answer.

Ith. 'T had been pity,

To sunder hearts so equally consented.

[TO PRO.

Enter HEMOPHIL.

Hem. The king, lord Ithocles, commands your

presence;

And, fairest princess, yours.

Cal. We will attend him.

Enter GRONEAS.

Gron. Where are the lords? all must unto the king

Without delay; the prince of Argos

Cal. Well, sir?

Gron. Is coming to the court, sweet lady.
Cal. How!

The prince of Argos?

Gron. 'Twas my fortune, madam, T'enjoy the honour of these happy tidings.

Ith. Penthea!

Pen. Brother.

Ith. Let me an hour hence

Meet you alone, within the palace grove,
I have some secret with you.-Prithee, friend,
Conduct her thither, and have special care
The walks be clear'd of any to disturb us.
Pro. I shall.

Bass. How's that?

Ith. Alone, pray be alone.—

I am your creature, princess.-On, my lords.

[Exeunt all but BASS.

Bass. Alone? alone? what means that word

alone?

Why might not I be there?-hum!-he's her bro

ther.

Brothers and sisters are but flesh and blood,
And this same whoreson court-ease is temptation
To a rebellion in the veins ;-besides,

His fine friend Prophilus must be her guardian:
Why may not he dispatch a business nimbly
Before the other come?-or-pand'ring, pand'ring
For one another-(be't to sister, mother,
Wife, cousin, any thing,) 'mongst youths of metal
Is in request; it is so-stubborn fate!
But if I be a cuckold, and can know it,

I will be fell, and fell.

Re-enter GRoNeas.

Gron. My lord, you are called for.

Bass. Most heartily I thank

wife, pray?

you; where's

my

Gron. Retired amongst the ladies.

Bass. Still I thank you:

There's an old waiter with her, saw you her too? Gron. She sits i' th' presence-lobby fast asleep,

sir.

Bass. Asleep? asleep, sir!

Gron. Is your lordship troubled ?

You will not to the king?

Bass. Your humblest vassal.

Gron. Your servant, my good lord.
Bass. I wait your footsteps.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

The Gardens of the Palace. A Grove.

Enter PROPHILUS and PENTHEA.

Pro. In this walk, lady, will your brother find

you;

And, with your favour, give me leave a little
To work a preparation: in his fashion

I have observ'd of late some kind of slackness
To such alacrity as nature [once]

And custom took delight in; sadness grows
Upon his recreations, which he hoards

In such a willing silence, that to question
The grounds will argue [little] skill in friendship,
And less good manners.

Pen. Sir, I am not inquisitive

Of secrecies, without an invitation.

Pro. With pardon, lady, not a syllable
Of mine implies so rude a sense; the drift-

Enter ORGILUS, as before.

[To ORG.

Do thy best
To make this lady merry for an hour.
Org. Your will shall be a law, sir. [Exit PRO.
Pen. Prithee, leave me,

I have some private thoughts I would account

with;

Use thou thine own.

Org. Speak on, fair nymph, our souls

Can dance as well to music of the spheres,
As any's who have feasted with the gods.

Pen. Your school-terms are too troublesome. Org. What heaven

Refines mortality from dross of earth,

But such as uncompounded beauty hallows
With glorified perfection!

Pen. Set thy wits

In a less wild proportion.
Org. Time can never

On the white table of unguilty faith

Write counterfeit dishonour; turn those eyes
(The arrows of pure love) upon that fire,

Which once rose to a flame, perfum'd with vows,
As sweetly scented as the incense smoking
On Vesta's altars, ***

✦✦✦✦✦ the holiest odours, virgins' tears,

sprinkled, like dews, to feed them

And to increase their fervour.

8

Pen. Be not frantic.

Org. All pleasures are but mere imagination,

as the incense smoking

On Vesta's altars * * * * * * * *, &c.]

It is greatly to be regretted that this apparently fine passage should have been so irreparably mutilated at the press. I have endeavoured to remedy the transpositions; but who can hope to restore what was dropped? It seems to me that Ford calls virgin tears, the holiest odours; and the expression is beautiful and every way worthy of him. In the old copy, however, this, and indeed every other merit is lost. It reads

as the incense smoking
The holiest artars, virgin tears (like

On Vesta's odours) sprinkled dews to feed 'em
And to increase, &c.