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a dog, a cur, a mongrel? bow wow! do thy worst, I defy thee.

[Sings. Out on Time, I care not ;

Being past, it is nothing,
I'll be free and spare not;
Sorrows are life's loathing.

Melancholy

Is but folly;
Mirth and youth are plotters :

Time, go hang thee!

I will bang thee,

Though I die in totters.! Go, mend thyself, cannibal! 't is not without need ; I am sure the times were never more beggarly and proud; waiting-women flaunt it in cast-suits, and their ladies fall for 'em; knaves over-brave wise men, while wise men stand with cap and knee to fools.Pitiful Time! pitiful Time !

Time. Out, foul, prodigious, and abortive birth! Behold the sandglass of thy days is broke.

Fol. Bring me another; I'll shatter that too.
Time. No, thou'st misspent thy hours, lavish'd,

fool-like,
The circuit of thy life in ceaseless riots :
It is not therefore fit that thou shouldst live
In such a court, as the Sun's majesty
Vouchsafes to illuminate with his bright beams.

Fol. In any court, father bald-pate, where my grannam the Moon shows her horns. I'll live here and laugh at the bravery of ignorance, maugre thy abominable beard.

Time. Priest of the Sun, 't is near about the minute Thy patron will descend; scourge hence this trifle : Time is ne'er lost, till, in the common schools Of impudence, time meets with wilful fools. [Exit.

Ray. Pray, sir, what are you? 1 Though I die in totters,] i, e. tatters. So the word was usually written by our dramatists.-GIFFORD.

Fol. No matter what; what are you?

Ray. Not as you are, I thank my better fates; I am grandchild to the Sun.

Fol. And I am cousin-german, some two or three hundred removes off, to the Moon, and my name is Folly.

Ray. Folly, sir! of what quality ?

Fol. Quality! any quality in fashion; drinking, singing, dancing, dicing, swearing, roaring, lying, cogging, canting, et cetera. Will you have any more?

Ray. You have a merry heart, if you can guide it.

Fol. Yes,'faith; so, so : I laugh not at those whom I fear, I fear not those whom I love ; and I love not any whom I laugh not at: pretty strange humour is 't not?

Ray. To any one that knows you not, it is.
Priest. You must avoid.

Fol. Away, away! I have no such meaning, indeed, la!

[Music of Recorders.
Priest. Hark! the fair hour is come; draw to the altar,
And, with amazement, reverence, and comfort,
Behold the broad-eyed lamp of heaven descending !
Stand!
The Sun appears

above.
Sun. Raybright!
Priest. It calls you; answer.
Ray. Lord and father!

Sun. We know thy cares; appear to give release:
Boldly make thy demands, for we will please
To grant whate'er thou su'st for.

Ray. Fair-beam'd sir!
I dare not greedily prefer
Eternity of Earth's delights,
Before that duty which invites
My filial piety; in this
Your love shall perfect my heart's bliss,
If I but for one only year,
Enjoy the several pleasures here,

Enter AUTUMN and BACCHANALIAN. Pom. My dearest lord, according to th' injunction Of your command, I have, with all observance, Given entertainment to this noble stranger.

Aut. The Sun-born Raybright, minion of my love!
Let us be twins in heart; thy grandsire's beams
Shine graciously upon our fruits and vines.
I am his vassal servant, tributary;
And for his sake, the kingdoms I possess
I will divide with thee; thou shalt command
The Lydian Tmolus, and Campanian mounts,
To nod their grape-crown'd heads into thy bowls,
Expressing their rich juice; a hundred grains,
Both from the Beltic and Sicilian fields,
Shall be congested for thy sacrifice,
In Ceres' fane; Tiber shall pay thee apples,
And Sicyon olives; all the choicest fruits
Thy father's heat doth ripen.

Ray. Make me but treasurer
Of your respected favours, and that honour
Shall equal my ambition.

Aut. My Pomona,
Speed to prepare a banquet of all novelties.
This is a day of rest, and we the whiles
Will sport before our friends, and shorten time
With length of wonted revels.

Pom. I obey.
Will 't please you, madam ? a retirement
From these extremes, in men more tolerable,
Will better fit our modesties.

Hum. I'll drink,
And be a Bacchanalian-no, I will not.
Enter, I'll follow ;-stay, I'll go before.

1 The terms expressing and congested, which occur in this and the next line but one, are used in their strict Latin senses; the first meaning to press out, the second to keep together. This part of the scene is indeed pretty thickly strewed with classical allusions, some of which, it is presumed, were not intended to bear the test of very exact scholar

Shall strive to please : I have the foremost tract;
Each Season else begins and ends an Act.

[The Sun disappears.

ACT II. SCENE I.

The Garden of SPRING.
Enter SPRING, RAYBRIGHT, YOUTH, HEALTH, and

DELIGHT.
Spring. Welcome! The mother of the

year,

the Spring, That mother, on whose back Age ne'er can sit, For Age still waits on her; that Spring, the nurse Whose milk the Summer sucks, and is made wanton ; Physician to the sick, strength to the sound, By whom all things above and under ground Are quicken’d with new heat, fresh blood, brave

vigour,That Spring, on thy fair cheeks, in kisses lays Ten thousand welcomes, free as are those rays From which thy name thou borrow'st; glorious

name, RAYBRIGHT, as bright in person as in fame!

Ray. Your eyes amazed me first, but now mine

ears

Feel your tongue's charın; in you move all the

spheres.
Oh, lady! would the Sun, which gave me life,
Had never sent me to you!

Spring. Why? all my veins
Shrink up, as if cold Winter were come back,
And with his frozen beard had numb'd my lips,
To hear that sigh fly from you.

Ray. Round about me
A firmament of such full blessings shine,
I, in your sphere, seem a star more divine,

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never

Than in my father's chariot, should I ride
One year about the world in all his pride.

Spring. Oh, that sweet breath revives me; if thou Part'st hence (as part thou shalt not), be happy ever!

Ray. I know I shall. Spring. Thou, to buy whose state Kings would lay down their crowns, fresh Youth,wait, I charge thee, on my darling.

Youth. Madam, I shall, And on his smooth cheek such sweet roses set, You still shall sit to gather them; and when Their colours fade, slike) brave shall spring again. Spring. Thou, without whom they that have hills

of gold Are slaves and wretches, Health! that canst nor be

sold Nor bought, I charge thee make his heart a tower Guarded, for there lies the Spring's paramour.

Health. One of my hands is writing still in Heaven,
For that 's Health's library; t'other, on the Earth,
Is physic's treasurer, and what wealth those lay
Up for my queen, all shall his will obey.

Ray. Mortality sure falls from me.
Spring. Thou! to whose tunes
The five nice senses dance; thou, that dost spin
Those golden threads all women love to wind,
And but for whom, man would cut off mankind,
Delight! not base but noble, touch thy lyre,
And fill my court with brightest Delphic fire.

Del. Hover, you wing'd musicians, in the air! Clouds, leave your dancing! no winds stir but fair! Health. Leave blustering March.

Song by DELIGHT.
What bird so sings, yet so does wail?!

'Tis Philomel, the nightingale ; 1 What bird, &c.] This is taken from the beautiful song of Trico, in Lily's “Alexander and Campaspe."

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