And in the midst, over a stately fountain,
The Neptune of the Ligurian sea-
Andrew Doria-the man who first

Taught Genoa not to serve: then to behold
The curious waterworks and wanton streams
Wind here and there, as if they had forgot
Their errand to the sea.1

And then again, within

The vast prodigious cage, in which the groves
Of myrtle, orange, jessamine, beguile
The winged quire with a native warble,

And pride of their restraint. Then, up and down,
An antiquated marble, or broken statue,

Majestic ev'n in ruin.3 ́

And such a glorious palace:

Such pictures, carving, furniture! my words
Cannot reach half the splendour. And, after all,
To see the sea, fond of the goodly sight,

One while glide amorous, and lick her walls,

As who would say, Come Follow; but, repuls'd
Rally its whole artillery of waves,

And crowd into a storm!

[Act iii., Sc. 1.']

THE FLOATING ISLAND. A COMEDY.

BY THE REV.

W. STRODE [1602-1645]. ACTED BY THE STUDENTS OF CHRIST-CHURCH, OXFORD, 1636 [PUBLISHED 1655]

Song.

Once Venus' cheeks, that sham'd the morn,

Their hue let fall;

Her lips, that winter had out-born,
In June look'd pale:

Her heat grew cold, her nectar dry;
No juice she had but in her eye,
The wonted fire and flames to mortify.
When was this so dismal sight?

When Adonis bade good night.5

[Act iv., Sc. 14.6]

[Two lines omitted.] '[Ed. of 1691.]

[Instead of "in which " read "to see".] [A line omitted.] [See also "Facetiæ," page 564.]

[Ed. of 1655.1

[THE] FATAL JEALOUSY. A TRAGEDY [PUBLISHED 1673]. AUTHOR UNKNOWN [BY NEVIL PAYNE]

No Truth Absolute: after seeing a Masque of Gipseys.

1st Spectator. By this we see that all the world's a cheat, Whose truths and falsehoods lie so intermixt,

And are so like each other, that 'tis hard

To find the difference. Who would not think these people
A real pack of such as we call Gipseys?

2nd Spect. Things perfectly alike are but the same;
And these were Gipseys, if we did not know
How to consider them the contrary:

So in terrestrial things there is not one

But takes its form and nature from our fancy,

Not its own being, and is but what we think it.1

1st Spect. But Truth is still itself?

2nd Spect. No, not at all, as Truth appears to us;

For oftentimes

That is a truth to me, that's false to you;

So 'twould not be, if it was truly true.2

How clouded Man

Doubts first, und from one doubt doth soon proceed
A thousand more, in solving of the first!

Like 'nighted travellers we lose our way,
Then every ignis fatuus makes us stray,

By the false lights of reason led about,

Till we arrive where we at first set out:

Nor shall we e'er truth's perfect highway see,

Till dawns the day-break of eternity.

O Apprehension !

Apprehension.

So terrible the consequence appears,

It makes my brain turn round, and night seem darker.
The moon begins to drown herself in clouds,

Leaving a duskish horror everywhere.

My sickly fancy makes the garden seem

Like those benighted groves in Pluto's kingdoms.

[Act ii.3]

[Act iii.]

[Act iv.]

1["What we do think it."]

2[The Scene continues.]

3 [Ed. of 1673.]

Injured Husband.

Wife (dying). Oh, oh, I fain would live a little longer,
If but to ask forgiveness of Gerardo!

My soul will scarce reach heav'n without his pardon.
Gerardo (entering). Who's that would go to heav'n,
Take it, whate'er thou art; and may'st thou be
Happy in death, whate'er thou didst design.

Gerardo; his wife murdered.

Ger. It is in vain to look 'em,' if they hide;

The garden's large; besides, perhaps they are gone.

We'll to the body.

Serv. You are by it now, my Lord.

Ger. This accident amazes me so much,

I go I know not where.

Doubt.

Doubt is the effect of fear or jealousy,

Two passions which to reason give the lie;
For fear torments, and never doth assist;
And jealousy is love lost in a mist.

Both hood-wink truth, and go to blind-man's-buff,
Cry here, then there, seem to direct enough,
But all the while shift place; making the mind,
As it goes out of breath, despair to find;
And, if at last something it stumbles on,
Perhaps it calls it false, and then 'tis gone.
If true, what's gain'd? only just time to see
A breachless 2 play, a game at liberty;
That has no other end than this, that men
Run to be tired, just to set down again.

Owl.

-hark how the owl

Summons their souls to take a flight with her,
Where they shall be eternally benighted.—3

[Act iv.]

[Act iv.]

[Act ii.]

[Act iv.]

THE TRAITOR. A TRAGEDY [LICENSED 1631: PUBLISHED 1635]. BY J. SHIRLEY. BY SOME SAID [PROBABLY ERRONEOUSLY] TO HAVE BEEN WRITTEN BY ONE RIVERS, Á JESUIT, 1635

Sciarrah, whose life is forfeited, has offer of pardon, condition-
ally, that he bring his sister Amidea to consent to the
Prince's unlawful suit. He jestingly tries her affection.
Sci. if thou couldst redeem me

With anything but death, I think I should
Consent to live.1

Amid. Nothing can be too precious

To save a brother, such a loving brother
As you have been.

Sci. Death's a devouring gamester,

And sweeps up all ;-what think'st thou of an eye?

Could'st thou spare one, and think the blemish recompenced

To see me safe with the other? or a hand

This white hand, that has so often

With admiration trembled on the lute,

Till we have pray'd thee leave the strings awhile,
And laid our ears close to thy ivory fingers,
Suspecting all the harmony proceeded
From their own motions without the need
Of any dull or passive instrument.-
No, Amidea; thou shalt not bear one scar,
To buy my life; the sickle shall not touch
A flower, that grows so fair upon his stalk : 2
I would live, and owe my life to thee,

So 'twere not bought too dear.

Amid. Do you believe, I should not find

The way to heav'n, were both mine eyes thy ransom ?
I shall climb up those high and rugged cliffs
Without a hand.

My transcript breaks off here. haps I broke off, as I own I have and an inclination to explore for dramatic delicacies.

1["But I'd not have thee venture

All at one chance."]

3

[Act v., Sc. 1.3]

Perhaps what follows was of less value; or persometimes done, to leave in my readers a relish, themselves the genuine fountains of these old

"[Two lines and a half omitted.]

[Shirley's Works, vol. ii. For other extracts from Shirley see note on p. 393.]

THE HUNTINGDON

DIVERTISEMENT.

AN INTERLUDE, FOR THE GENERAL ENTERTAINMENT AT THE COUNTY FEAST, HELD AT MERCHANT TAYLORS' HALL, JUNE 20TH, 1678.1 BY W. M. [AUTHOR UNKNOWN]

Humour of a retired Knight.

Sir JEOFFRY DOE-RIGHT. Master GENEROUS GOODMAN.

Gen. Sir Jeoffry, good morrow.

Sir J. The same to you, Sir.

Gen. Your early zeal condemns the rising sun

Of too much sloth; as if you

To catch the Muses napping.

Sir J. Did you know

did intend

The pleasures of an early contemplation,
You'd never let Aurora blush to find

You drowsy on your bed; but rouse, and spend
Some short ejaculations,-how the night
Disbands her sparkling troops at the approach
Of the ensuing day, when th' grey-eyed sky
Ushers the golden signals of the morn;
Whilst the magnanimous cock with joy proclaims
The sun's illustrious cavalcade. Your thoughts
Would ruminate on all the works of Heaven,
And th' various dispensations of its power.
Our predecessors better did improve
The precious minutes of the morn than we
Their lazy successors. Their practice taught
And left us th' good Proverbial, that "To rise
Early makes all men healthy, wealthy, wise."

Gen. Your practice, Sir, merits our imitation;
Where the least particle of night and day's
Improv'd to th' best advantage, whilst your soul
(Unclogg'd from th' dross of melancholic cares)
Makes every place a paradise.

Sir J. "Tis true,

I bless my lucky stars, whose kind aspects
Have fix'd me in this solitude. My youth
Past thro' the tropics of each fortune, I

Was made her perfect tennis-ball; her smiles

Now made me rich and honour'd; then her frowns

1 [Not divided into Acts. See ed. of 1678, p. 2.]