Enter CUCULUS like a Bedlam, singing.

Cuc. They that will learn to drink a health in hell, Must learn on earth to take tobacco well,

To take tobacco well, to take tobacco well; For in hell they drink nor wine, nor ale, nor beer, But fire, and smoke, and stench, as we do here. Rhe. I'll swoop thee up.

Pel. Thou'st straight to execution.

Gril. Fool, fool, fool! catch me an thou canst.
Phi. Expel him the house; 'tis a dunce.

Cuc. [sings] Hark, did you not hear a rumbling!
The goblins are now a tumbling:

I'll tear 'em, I'll sear 'em,

I'll roar 'em, I'll gore

'em!

Now, now, now! my brains are a jumbling,

Bounce? the gun's off.

Pal. You name this here,' hypochondriacal? Cor. Which is a windy flatuous humour, stuffing The head, and thence deriv'd to the animal parts. To be too over-curious, loss of goods

Or friends, excess of fear, or sorrows cause it.

6

This is a sarcastic description of drinking tobacco, as the phrase was. The ingredients (stench, smoke, and fire) are thus enumerated in the "Counterblast."

7 You name this here.] i. e. in the paper which Palador still holds in his hand; and which may be supposed to contain the extracts from Burton; that of the Bedlamite, to which the prince alludes, follows. "The third species of melancholy ariseth from the bowels, liver, spleene, or membrane called mesenterium, named hypochondriacal or windy-melancholy, &c."-Ibid. p. 50.

Enter a SEA-NYMPII, big-bellied, singing and

dancing,

Nymph. Good your honours.

Pray your worships,

Dear your beauties,

Cuc. Hang thee!

To lash your sides,
To tame your hides,

To scourge your prides;

And bang thee.

Nymph. We're pretty and dainty, and I will begin;

See! how they do jeer me, deride me, and

grin.

Come, sport me, come, court me, your top

sail advance,

And let us conclude our delights in a dance!

All. A dance, a dance, a dance!

Cor. This is the wanton melancholy. Women With child, possess'd with this strange fury, often Have danced three days together without ceasing. Pal. Tis very strange: but Heaven is full of miracles.

Chorus Sancti Viti, or Saint Vitus' dance; the lascivious dance Paracelsus calls it, because they that are taken with it can do nothing but dance till they be dead or cured. It is so called, for that the parties so troubled were wont to goe to Saint Vitus for helpe, and after they had danced there a while, they were certainly freed. 'Tis strange to heare how long they will dance, and in what manner, over stooles, formes, tables; even great bellyed women sometimes (and yet never hurt their childe) will dance so long, that they can stirre neither hand nor foot, but seem to be quite dead." -Ibid. p. 15.

THE DANCE.

[Exeunt the Masquers in couples.

We are thy debtor, Corax,' for the gift

Of this invention; but the plot deceives us :
What means this empty space?

[Pointing to the paper.

Cor. One kind of Melancholy

Is only left untouch'd; 'twas not in art
To personate the shadow of that fancy;

'Tis nam'd Love-Melancholy. As, for instance, Admit this stranger here,-young man, stand

forth

Entangled by the beauty of this lady,

[TO PARTH.

The great Thamasta, cherish'd in his heart
The weight of hopes and fears; it were impossible
To limn his passions in such lively colours,
As his own proper sufferance could express.
Par. You are not modest, sir.

Tha. Am I your mirth?

Cor. Love is the tyrant of the heart; it darkens Reason, confounds discretion; deaf to counsel, It runs a headlong course to desperate madness. O were your highness but touch'd home, and thoroughly,

With this (what shall I call it?) devil

We are thy debtor, Corax, &c.] This good prince is easily pleased; for, to speak truth, a masque more void of invention, or merit of any kind, never shamed the stage. It is singular that Ford did not recollect how absolutely he had anticipated the boasted experiment of this trifler, and laid open the whole secret of the prince's melancholy in the admirable scene with Rhetias in the second act: but he was determined to have a show, and, in evil hour, he had it.

Pal. Hold!

Let no man henceforth name the word again.— Wait you my pleasure, youth.-'Tis late; to

rest!

Cor. My lords

[Exit.

Soph. Enough; thou art a perfect arts-man. Cor. Panthers may hide their heads, not change the skin;

And love, pent ne'er so close, yet will be seen.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

[Exeunt.

A Room in THAMASTA'S House.

Enter AMETHUS and MENAPHON.

Amet. Doat on a stranger?

Men. Court him; plead, and sue to him.

Amet. Affectionately?

Men. Servilely; and, pardon me,

If I say, basely.

Amet. Women, in their passions,

Like false fires, flash, to fright our trembling

senses,

Yet, in themselves, contain nor light nor heat.
My sister do this! she, whose pride did scorn
All thoughts that were not busied on a crown,
To fall so far beneath her fortunes now!-
You are my friend.

Men. What I confirm, is truth.
Amet. Truth, Menaphon?

Men. If I conceived you were

Jealous of my sincerity and plainness,

Then, sir

Amet. What then, sir?

Men. I would then resolve

You were as changeable in vows of friendship,
As is Thamasta in her choice of love:
That sin is double, running in a blood,
Which justifies another being worse.

Amet. My Menaphon, excuse me; I grow wild,
And would not, willingly, believe the truth
Of my dishonour: she shall know how much
I am a debtor to thy noble goodness,

By checking the contempt her poor desires
Have sunk her fame in.

Prithee tell me, friend,

How did the youth receive her?

Men. With a coldness

As modest and as hopeless, as the trust
I did repose in him could wish, or merit.

Enter THAMASTA and KALA.

Amet. I will esteem him dearly.

Men. Sir, your sister.

Tha. Servant, I have employment for you.

Amet. Harkye!

The mask of your ambition is fallen off;

Your pride hath stoop'd to such an abject low

ness,

That you have now discover'd to report
Your nakedness in virtue, honours, shame,
Tha. You are turn'd Satire.