Were not their pleasures varied? shall not mine,

then?

Should day last ever, 'twould be loath'd as night;
Change is the sauce that sharpens appetite.
The way? I'll to her.

Fol. The way is windy and narrow; for, 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 upon?

Fol. This is that honeysuckle she sticks in her ruff.

Hum. A bedfellow for a fairy!

Ray. Admired perfection,

You set my praises to so high a tune,

My merits cannot reach them.

Hum. My heart-strings shall then,

[Aside.

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: 'tis 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

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 enough

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 your's?

Ray. No kingdom buys it from me.

Fol. Being in fool's paradise he must not lose

his bauble.

Ray. I am wrapt—

Fol. In your mother's smock.

Ray. I am wrapt above man's being, in being sphered

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;1 a tailor.

4

Tail. Wee, mounsieur; hey! nimbla upon de cross-caper; me take a de measure of de body from de top a de noddel to de heel and great toe; oh, dish be fine! dis coller is cut out in anger scurvy: oh, dis beeshes pincha de bum; me put one French yard into de toder hose.

Fol. No French yards; they want an [English] yard, at least.

Ray. Shall I be brave, then?

Hum. Golden as the sun.

Ray. What's he that looks so smickly?'

Fol. A flounder in a frying-pan, still skipping; 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

Spanish pike.] i. e. a needle. It has been observed, elsewhere, that our best sword-blades, scissors, needles, &c. were, in the

poet's days, imported from Spain. Thus Green : "He (the tailor) had no other weapon but a plain Spanish needle, with a Welch cricket (a louse) at top."-Quippe, &c.

2 What's he that looks so smickly?] i. e. so finically, so effeminately. Ford has the word again in "Fame's Memorial."

he forsook

The smicker use of court humanity.

tricks, as if he had bought them of a juggler.—He's an Italian dancer, his name

Dan. Signor Lavolta, messer mio; me tesha all de bella corantoes, gagliardas, pianettas, capeorettas, amorettas, dolche dolche, to declamante do bona robas de Toscana.3

Ray. I ne'er shall be so nimble.

Fol. Yes, if you pour quicksilver into your shinbones, as he does.

Ray. This now?

Fol. A most sweet Spaniard.

Span. A confecianador, which in your tongue is a comfit-maker, of Toledo. I can teach sugar to slip down your throat a million of ways

Fol. And the throat has but one in all; oh, Toledo!

Span. In conserves, candies, marmalades, sincadoes, ponadoes, marablane, bergamoto, aranxues muria, limons, berengenas of Toledo, oriones, potatoes of Malaga, and ten millions more.

Fol. Now 'tis ten millions! a Spaniard can multiply.

Span. I am your servidor.

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!

3

Hum. Put them on.

to declamante do bona robas, &c.] I have left this and all the remaining gallimaufry nearly as I found it. It is too ignorant for correction, and too trifling for explanation.

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.

Fol. A dancer and a tailor! yet stand still ? Strike up. [Music.-A Dance.

Re-enter SPRING, HEALTH, Youth, Delight,

Spring. Oh, thou enticing strumpet! how durst

thou

Throw thy voluptuous spells about a temple
That's consecrate to me?

Hum. Poor Spring, goody herb-wife!
How dar'st thou cast a glance on this rich jewel,
I have bought for my own wearing?

Spring. Bought! art thou sold then?

Ray. Yes, with her gifts; she buys me with her graces.

4 I'll teach you how to vamp, &c.] i. e. to patch up a quarrel. See p. 255.