SIR RICHARD FANSHAWE'S TRANSLATION OF "QUERER POR SOLO QUERER"-"TO LOVE FOR LOVE'S SAKE:" A ROMANTIC DRAMA.

WRITTEN IN SPANISH BY MENDOZA, 1623.

FELISBRAVO, prince of Persia, from a picture sent him of the brave Amazonian queen of Tartary, ZELIDAURA, becoming enamoured, sets out for that realm; in his way thither disenchants a queen of Araby; but first, overcome by fatigue, falls asleep in the Enchanted Grove, where ZELIDAURA herself, coming by, steals the picture from him. The passion of the romance arises from his remorse at being taken so negligent; and her disdain that he should sleep, having the company of her picture. She here plays upon him, who does not yet know her, in the disguise of a rustic.

Fel. What a spanking Labradora!

Zel. You, th' unkent Knight, God ye gud mora !
Fel. The time of day thou dost mistake.

Zel. —and joy-—

Fel. of what?

Zel. That I discover,

By a sure sign, you are awake.

Fel. Awake? the sign?

Zel. Your being a lover.

Fel. In love am I?

Zel. and very deep.

Fel. Deep in love? how is that seen!
Zel. Perfectly you do not sleep.
Fel. Rustic excellence, unscreen,
And discover that sweet face,

Which covers so much wit and grace.
Zel. You but dreamt so: sleep again,
And forget it.

Fel. Why now saint?

Zel. Why? the lady, that went in,2

1 She affects rusticity.

2 The enchanted queen of Araby, of whom Zelidaura is jealous.

Looks as if that she did paint.

Fel. What has that to do with sleeping?
She is, indeed, angelical.

Zel. That picture now 's well worth your keeping :
For why? 'tis an original.
Fel. Is this shepherdess a witch?

Or saw the sleeping treason, which
I committed against love,

Erst, in the Enchanted Grove?

Me hast thou ever seen before?
Zel. Seen? ay, and know thee for a man
That will turn him, and sleep more
Than a dozen dunces can.

Thou ken'st little what sighs mean.
Fel. Unveil, by Jove, that face serene.
Zel. What, to make thee sleep again?
Fel. Still in riddles ?

Zel. Now he sees :

This pinching wakes him by degrees. Fel. Art thou a nymph?

Zel. Of Parnass Green.

Fel. Sleep I, indeed? or am I mad?

Zel. None serve thee, but th' enchanted queen ?
I think what dull conceits y' have had

Of the bird phoenix, which no eye

E'er saw, an odoriferous lie :

How, of her beauty's spells, she 's told,
That by her spirit thou art haunted ;

And, having slept away the old,

With this new mistress worse enchanted.

Fel. I affect not, shepherdess,

Myself in such fine terms t' express ;

Sufficeth me an humble strain :
Too little happy to be vain!
Unveil !

Zel. Sir Gallant, not so fast.

Fel. See thee I will.

Zel. See me you

shall:

But touch not fruit you must not taste.

[She takes off her veil.

What says it, now the leaf doth fall?
Fel. It says, 'tis worthy to comprise
The kernel of so rare a wit;
Nor, that it grows in Paradise,
But Paradise doth grow in it!

The tall and slender trunk no less divine,
Though in a lowly shepherdess's rine.

[He begins to know her.

This should be that so famous queen
For unquell'd valour and disdain.-
In these enchanted woods is seen
Nothing but illusions vain!

Zel. What stares the man at?
Fel. I compare

A picture-I once mine did call—
With the divine original.

Zel. Fall'n asleep again you are.
We poor human shepherd lasses
Nor are pictur'd, nor use glasses.

Who skip their rank, do 'emselves and betters

wrong;

T' our dames, God bless them, such quaint things belong.

Here, a tiny brook alone,

Which, fring'd with borrowed flowers (he has
Gold and silver enough on 's own)

Is heaven's proper looking-glass,

Copies us; and its reflections,
Showing natural perfections,

Free from soothing, free from error,
Are our pencil, are our mirror.

Fel. Art thou a shepherdess ?

Zel.

and bore

On a mountain, called There

Fel. Wear'st thou ever heretofore

Lady's clothes?
Zel. I lady's gear ?—

Yes-what a treach'rous poll have I !-
In a country comedy

I once enacted a main part;
(Still I have it half by heart)
The famous history it was
Of an Arabian-let me see-
No, of a queen of Tartary,
Who all her sex did far surpass
In beauty, wit, and chivalry:
Who, with invincible disdain,
Would fool, when she was in the vein,
Princes with all their wits about them;
But, an they slept, to death she'd flout them :
And, by the mass, with such a mien

My majesty did play the queen,
Our curate had my picture made

In the same robes in which I play'd.

[To my taste this is fine, elegant, queen-like raillery: a second part of Love's Labour's Lost, to which title this extraordinary play has still better pretensions than even Shakspeare's; for after leading three pair of royal lovers through endless mazes of doubts, difficulties, oppositions of dead fathers' wills, a labyrinth of losings and findings, jealousies, enchantments, conflicts with giants, and single-handed against armies, to the exact state in which all the lovers might with the greatest propriety indulge their reciprocal wishes-when, the deuce is in it, you think, but they must all be married now-suddenly the three ladies turn upon their lovers and, as an exemplification of the moral of the play, "Loving for loving's sake," and an hyper-platonic, truly Spanish proof of their affections-demand that the lovers shall consent to their mistresses' taking upon them the vow of a single life; to which the gallants, with becoming refinement, can do no less than consent. The fact is that it was a court play, in which the characters, males, giants, and all, were played by females, and those of the highest order of grandeeship. No nobleman might be permitted amongst them; and it was against the forms, that a great court lady of Spain should consent to such an unrefined notion, as that of wedlock, though but in a play.

Appended to the drama, the length of which may be judged

from its having taken nine days in the representation, and me three hours in the reading of it-hours well-wasted-is a poetical account of a fire, which broke out in the theatre on one of the nights of its acting, when the whole of the Dramatis Persona were nearly burnt, because the common people out of "base fear," and the nobles out of "pure respect," could not think of laying hands upon such " great donnas; "till the young king, breaking the etiquette, by snatching up his queen, and bearing her through the flames upon his back, the grandees, (dilatory Eneases), followed his example, and each saved one (Anchisesfashion), till the whole courtly company of comedians were got off in tolerable safety.-Imagine three or four stout London firemen, on such an occasion, standing off in mere respect.]

Address to Solitude.

Sweet solitude! still Mirth, that fear'st no wrong,
Because thou dost none! Morning all day long!
Truth's sanctuary! Innocency's spring!
Invention's limbeck! Contemplation's wing!
Peace of my soul, which I too late pursu'd!
That know'st not the world's vain inquietude;
Where friends, the thieves of time, let us alone
Whole days, and a man's hours are all his own.
Song in praise of the same.

Solitude, of friends the best,

And the best companion;
Mother of truths, and brought at least
Every day to bed of one;

In this flow'ry mansion
I contemplate how the rose

Stands upon thorns, how quickly goes

The dismaying jessamine:

Only the soul, which is divine,

No decay of beauty knows.

The world is beauty's mirror; flow'rs,
In their first virgin purity,
Flatt'rers both of the nose and eye,
To be cropp'd by paramours

Is their best of destiny.