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Shall strive to please : I have the foremost tract;
[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
Feel your tongue's charm; in you move all the
Spring. Why? all my veins
Ray. Round about me
Than in my father's chariot, should I ride
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, (like) 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,
Spring. Thou! to whose tunes
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.
'Tis Philomel, the nightingale ; 1 What bird, &c.] This is taken from the beautiful song of Trico, in Lily's “Alexander and Campaspe."
Jugg, jugg, jugg, terue she cries,
[The cuckoo is heard.
[The cuckoo again. Ha, ha! hark, hark! the cuckoos sing
Cuckoo! to welcome in the Spring,
Ray. Wondrous; such ne'er were seen.
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.
Spring. What is 't !
1 A company of rural fellows, faced
Like lovers of your laws,] 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 surfeít 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
Ray. Fear ít not, lady;
Enter the MORRIS-DANCERS.
Spring. I am made
Ray. No; pretty and pleasing,
Ray. I shall attend.
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
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 perfection, 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