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his queen,

Jugg, jugg, jugg, terue she cries,
And, hating earth, to heaven she flies.

[The cuckoo is heard.
Ha, ha! hark, hark! the cuckoos sing
Cuckoo ! to welcome in the Spring.
Brave prick-song! who is 't now we hear?
'Tis the lark's silver leer-c-leer.
How at heaven's gate she claps her wings,
The morn not waking till she sings.

[The cuckoo again. Ha, ha! hark, hark! the cuckoos sing

Cuckoo ! to welcome in the Spring.
Spring. How does my sun-born sweetheart like
Her court, her train ?

Ray, Wondrous; such ne'er were seen.
Health. Fresher and fresher pastimes ! one de-

light Is a disease to th' wanton appetite. Del. Music, take Echo's voice, and dance quick

rounds To thine own times in repercussive sounds.

(An echo of cornets. Spring. Enough! I will not weary thee.

[Exit Del. Pleasures, change! Thou as the Sun in a free zodiac range.

Re-enter DELIGHT.
Del. A company of rural fellows, faced'
Like lovers of your laws, beg to be graced
Before your highness, to present their sport.

Spring. What is 't
Del. A morris.

1 A company of rural fellows, faced

Like lovers of your laws,1 i. e. with youthful, ruddy, cheerful countenances.-GIFFORD.

Spring. Give them our court.Stay, these dull birds may make thee stop thine

ear; Take thou my lightning, none but laurel here Shall 'scape thy blasting: whom thou wilt confound, Smite ; let those stand, who in thy choice sit

crown'd. Ray. Let these then, I may surfeit else on

sweets; Sound sleeps do not still lie in princes' sheets.

Spring. Beckon the rurals in; the country-gray, Seldom ploughs treason : shouldst thou be stol'n

By great ones,—that's my fear.

Ray. Fear it not, lady;
Should all the world's black sorceries be laid

To blow me hence, I move not.

Spring. I am made
In that word the earth's empress.-

Are not these sports too rustic?

Ray. No; pretty and pleasing.
Spring. My youngest girl, the violet-breathing

Being told by Flora that my love dwelt here,
Is come to do you service; will you please
To honour her arrival ?

Ray. I shall attend.
Spring. On then, -- [Exeunt Morris-dancers.]-and

bid my rosy-finger'd May Rob hills and dales, with sweets

to strew his way. [Exit, followed by Youth and HEALTH. Enter Folly, and whispers RAYBRIGHT. Ray. An empress, sayst thou, fall’n in love with

me ?

Fol. She's a great woman, and all great women love to be empresses; her name, the lady Humour. Ray. Strange name! ' I never saw her, knew her

not; What kind of creature is she?

Fol. Creature! of a skin soft as pomatum, sleek as jelly, white as blanched almonds; breath, sweet as a monkey's; lips of cherries, teeth of pearl, eyes of diamond, foot and leg as

Ray. My admiration wastes itself in longings To see this rare piece: I'll see her; what are kings, Were not their pleasures varied ? shall not mine,

then? Should day last ever, 't would be loath'd as night; Change is the sauce that sharpens appetite. The way? I 'll to her.

Fol. Look you, I do but wind this cornet, and if another answer it, she comes. Ray. Be quick then! [FOLLY winds his cornet, and is answered from

without. Enter HUMOUR, followed by a Soldier, a Spaniard, an

Italian dancer, and a French tailor. Hum. Is this that flower the Spring so dotes Fol. This is that honeysuckle she sticks in her ruff. Hum. A bedfellow for a fairy!

[Aside. Ray. Admired persection, You set my praises to so high a tune, My merits cannot reach them.

Hum. My heartstrings shall then, As mine eye gives that sentence on thy person, And never was mine eye a corrupt judge. That judge to save thee would condemn a world, And lose mankind to gain thee: 't is not the Spring, With all her gaudy arbours, nor perfumes Sent up in flattering incense to the Sun, For shooting glances at her, and for sending

upon ?

Whole choirs of singers to her every morn,
With all her amorous fires, can heat thy blood
As I can with one kiss.

Ray. The rose-lipp'd dawning
Is not so melting, so delicious :
Turn me into a bird, that I may sit
Still singing in such boughs.

Hum. What bird ?
Fol. A ring-tail.

Hum. Thou shalt be turn'd to nothing but to mine,
My mine of pleasures, which no hand shall rifle
But this, which in warm nectar bathes the palm.
Invent some other tires! Music !-stay-none !

Fol. Heyday!
Hum. New gowns, fresh fashions! I'm not brave

To make thee wonder at me.

Ray. Not the moon,
Riding at midnight in her crystal chariot,
With all her courtiers in their robes of stars,
Is half so glorious.

Hum. This feather was a bird of Paradise ;
Shall it be yours?

Ray. No kingdom buys it from me.

Fol. Being in fool's paradise he must not lose his bauble. Ray. I am rapt above man's being, in being

In such a globe of rarities; but say, lady,
What these are that attend you?

Hum. All my attendants
Shall be to thee sworn servants.

Fol. Folly is sworn to him already never to leave him.

Ray. He ? Fol. A French gentleman, that trails a Spanish pike;' a tailor.

1 Spanish pike,) i. e. a needle. Our best sword-blades, scissors, needles, &c. were, in the poet's days, imported from Spain.--GIFFORD.

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Ray. Shall I be brave, then ?
Hum. Golden as the Sun.
Ray. What 's he that looks so smickly??

Fot. One that loves mutton so well, he always carries capers about him; his brains lie in his legs, and his legs serve him to no other use than to do tricks, as if he had bought them of a juggler.--He's an Italian dancer.

Ray. This now?

Fol. A most sweet Spaniard, a comfit-maker, of Toledo, that can teach sugar to slip down your throat a million of ways. Ray. My palate pleased too! What's this last?

Sold. I am a gun that can roar, two stilettoes in one sheath; I can fight and bounce too. My lady, by me, presents this sword and belt to you.

Ray. Incomparable mistress!
Hum. Put them on.

Sold. I'll drill you how to give the lie, and stab in the punto; if you dare not fight, then how to vamp? a rotten quarrel without ado. Ray. How? dare not fight! there's in me the Sun's

fire. Hum. No more of this :-[dances.]-awake the

music! oyez! Music! Ray. No more of this ;--this sword arms me for

battle. Hum. Come then, let thou and I rise up in arms; The field, embraces; kisses, our alarms.

[Music. - A dance. Re-enter SPRING, HEALTH, YOUTH, DELIGHT. Spring. Oh, thou enticing strumpet! how durst

Throw thy voluptuous spells about a temple
That's consecrate to me?
Hum. Poor Spring, goody herb-wife!

li. e. so finically, so effeminately.
2 i. e, to patch up a quarrel.

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