cause.

Enter SOPHRONOS and ARETUS. Soph. We find him timely now; let's learn the Are. 'Tis fit we should.—Sir, we approve you

learn'd,
And, since your skill can best discern the hur curs
That are predominant in bodies subject
To alteration, tell us, pray, what devil
This Melancholy is, which can transform
Men into monsters ?

Cor. You are yourself a scholar,
And quick of apprehension : Melancholy
Is not, as you conceive, indisposition
Of body, but the mind's disease. So Ecstasy,
Fantastic Dotage, Madness, Phrensy, Rupture
Of mere imagination, differ partly
From Melancholy;' which is briefly this,
A mere commotion of the mind, o'ercharged
With fear and sorrow ; first begot i' th' brain,
The seat of reason, and from thence deriv'd
As suddenly into the heart, the seat
Of our affection.

Are. There are sundry kinds
Of this disturbance ?

Cor. Infinite: it were More easy to conjecture every hour We have to live, than reckon up the kinds Or causes of this anguish of the mind. Soph. Thus you conclude, that as the cause is

doubtful, The cure must be impossible; and then

1 " Vide,” Ford says, “ Democritus Junior." He alludes to the Analomy of Melancholy, by Robert Burton ; from which not only what is here said, but the descriptions and personifications of the various affections of the mind in the interlude (scene iii.) are imitated, or rather copied; for the poet has added little or nothing of his own to what he found in that popular volume. To say the truth, the stupendous and undistinguishing diligence of our “Democritus the Younger” almost precluded the possibility of adding to any topic which he had previously made the object of his researches.--GIFFORD.

Our prince, poor gentleman, is lost for ever,
As well unto himself as to his subjects.
Cor. My lord, you are too quick; thus much I

dare
Promise and do; ere many minutes pass,
I will discover whence his sadness is,
Or undergo the censure of my ignorance.

Are. You are a noble scholar.
Soph. For reward
You shall make your own demand.

Cor. May I be sure ?
Are. We both will pledge our truth.
Cor. 'Tis soon perform’d.
That I may be discharged from my

attendance
At court, and never more be sent for after:
Or—if I be, may rats gnaw all my books,
If I get home once, and come here again!
Though my neck stretch a halter for’t, I care not.

Soph. Come, come, you shall not fear it.

Cor. I'll acquaint you With what is to be done; and you shall fashion it.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

A Room in THAMASTA's House.

Enter Kala and PARTHENOPHILL.
Kala. My lady does expect you, thinks all time
Too slow till you come to her: wherefore, young

man,
If you intend to love me, and me only,
Before we part, without more circumstance,
Let us betroth ourselves.

Par. I dare not wrong you;
You are too violent.

Kala. Wrong me no more
Than I wrong you; be mine, and I am yours;
I cannot stand on points.

Par. Then, to resoive
All further hopes, you never can be mine,
Must not, and, pardon though I say, you shall not.

Kala. Shall not! Well,
You were best to prate unto my lady now,
What proffer I have made.

Par. Never, I vow.

Kala. Do, do ! 't is but a kind heart of my own, And ill luck can undo me.-Be refused ! O scurvy!—Pray walk on, I 'll overtake you. Meantime I'll mar' her market. [Exit Par.

Enter MENAPHON. Men. Parthenophill passed this way; prithee,

Kala, Direct me to him.

Kala. Yes, I can direct you; But you, sir, must forbear.

Men. Forbear?

Kala. I said so.
Your bounty has engaged my truth, receive
A secret, that will, as you are a man,
Startle your reason; 't is but mere respect
Of what I owe to thankfulness. Dear sir,
The stranger, whom your courtesy received
For friend, is made your rival.

Men. Rival, Kala ?
Take heed; thou art too credulous.

Kala. My lady
Dotes on him: I will place you in a room,
Where, though you cannot hear, yet you shall see
Such passages as will confirm the truth
Of my intelligence.

Men. ’T will make me mad.

Kala. Yes, yes.
It makes me mad too, that a gentleman

1 I'll mar her market.] Her mistress's; whom she accordingly betrays to Menaphon.-GIFFORD.

So excellently sweet, so liberal,
So kind, so proper, should be so betrayed
By a young smooth-chinn'd straggler; but, for love's

sake,
Bear all with manly courage.-Not a word;
I am undone then.

Men. That were too much pity: Honest, most honest Kala! 't is thy care, Thy serviceable care.

Kaia. You have ev'n spoken
All can be said or thought.

Men. I will reward thee:
But as for him, ungentle boy, I'll whip
His falsehood with a vengeance.

Kala. O speak little.
Walk up these stairs; and take this key, it opens
A chamber door, where, at that window yonder,
You may see all their courtship.

Men. I am silent.

Kula. As little noise as may be, I beseech you; There is a back-stair to convey you forth Unseen or unsuspected.

[Exit MENAPHON.

He that cheats
A waiting-woman of a free good turn
She longs for, must expect a shrewd revenge.
Sheep-spirited boy! altho' he had not married me,
He might have proffered kindness at the least :
But they are come :
On goes my set of faces most demurely.

Enter THAMASTA and PARTHENOPHILL.
Tha. Forbear the room.
Kala. Yes, madam.

Tha. Whosoever
Requires access to me, deny him entrance
Till I call thee; and wait without. [Exit Kala.

Tha. I expose
The honour of my birth, my fame, my youth,
To hazard of much hard construction,

Vol. 1.-8

In seeking an adventure of a parley
So private with a stranger: if your thoughts
Censure me not with mercy, you may soon
Conceive, I have laid by that modesty,
Which should preserve a virtuous name unstain'd.

Par. Lady-to shorten long excuses-time
And safe experience have so thoroughly arm’d
My apprehension, with a real taste
Of your most noble nature, that to question
The least part of your bounties, or that freedom,
Which Heaven hath with a plenty made you rich in,
Would argue me uncivil;' which is more,
Base-bred; and, which is most of all, unthankful.
Tha. The constant loadstone and the steel are

found In several mines; yet is there such a league Between these minerals, as if one vein Of earth had nourish'd both. The gentle myrtle Is not ingraft upon an olive's stock; Yet nature hath between them lock'd a secret Of sympathy, that, being planted near, They will, both in their branches and their roots, Embrace each other: twines of ivy round The well-grown oak; the vine doth court the elm; Yet these are different plants. Parthenophill, Consider this aright; then these slight creatures Will fortify the reasons I should frame For that unguarded (as thou think'st) affection, Which is submitted to a stranger's pity. True love may blush, when shame repents too

late; But in all actions, nature yields to fate.

Par. Great lady, 't were a dulness must exceed The grossest and most sottish kind of ignorance, Not to be sensible of your intents; I clearly understand them. Yet so much

1 Would argue me uncivil,] i. e. unacquainted with the language and manners of good society.-GIFFORD.