A feather-bed, to waft you to the shore,
As easily as if you slept i' th' court.
Pel. Indeed! is't true, I pray?

Men. I will not stretch

Your faith upon the tenters.-Prithee, Pelias,
Where did'st thou learn this language?

Pel. I this language?

Alas, sir, we that study words and forms
Of compliment, must fashion all discourse
According to the nature of the subject.
But I am silent:-now appears a sun,
Whose shadow I adore.

Enter AMETHUS, SOPHRONOS, and Attendants.
Men. My honour'd father!

Soph. From mine eyes, son, son of my care, my love,

The joys that bid thee welcome, do too much
Speak me a child.

Men. O princely sir, your hand.

Amet. Perform your duties, where you owe them first;

I dare not be so sudden in the pleasures
Thy presence hath brought home.

Soph. Here thou still find'st

A friend as noble, Menaphon, as when'
Thou left'st at thy departure.

Thou left'st at thy departure.]

as when

I suspect that we should read here, as whom thou left'st; I have not ventured to change any thing; though the expression would be in the author's manner.

Men. Yes, I know it,

To him I owe more service

Amet. Pray give leave

He shall attend your entertainments soon,
Next day, and next day;-for an hour or two

I would engross him only.

Soph. Noble lord!

Amet. You are both dismiss'd.

Pel. Your creature and your servant.

[Exeunt all but AMETHUS and MENAPHON. I will not say,

Amet. Give me thy hand.

Thou'rt welcome;

That is the common road of common friends.
I'm glad I have thee here-Oh! I want words
To let thee know my heart.

Men. 'Tis pieced to mine.

Amet. Yes, 'tis; as firmly as that holy thing
Call'd friendship can unite it. Menaphon,
My Menaphon! now all the goodly blessings,
That can create a heaven on earth, dwell with thee!
Twelve months we have been sundered; but
henceforth

We never more will part, till that sad hour,
In which death leaves the one of us behind,
To see the other's funerals performed.

Let's now a while be free.-How have thy travels
Disburthen'd thee abroad of discontents?

Men. Such cure as sick men find in changing beds,

I found in change of airs; the fancy flatter'd

My hopes with ease, as their's do; but the grief
Is still the same.

Amet. Such is my case at home.
Cleophila, thy kinswoman, that maid
Of sweetness and humility, more pities
Her father's poor afflictions, than the tide
Of my complaints.

Men. Thamasta, my great mistress,
Your princely sister, hath, I hope, ere this
Confirm'd affection on some worthy choice.

Amet. Not any, Menaphon. Her bosom yet
Is intermured with ice; though by the truth
Of love, no day hath ever pass'd, wherein
I have not mentioned thy deserts, thy constancy,
Thy-Come! in troth, I dare not tell thee what,
Lest thou might'st think I fawn'd on [thee]-a sin3
Friendship was never guilty of; for flattery
Is monstrous in a true friend.

Men. Does the court

Wear the old looks too?

Amet. If thou mean'st the prince,

It does. He's the same melancholy man,
He was at's father's death; sometimes speaks sense,

* Confirm'd affection on, &c.] So the quarto reads, but, I suspect, erroneously. Perhaps the author's word was conferr'd. Lest thou might'st think I fawn'd on [thee]-a sin.] This is the best conjecture which I can form of the speaker's meaning. The old copy reads—

Lest thou might'st think I fawn'd upon a sin
Friendship was never guilty of.

I once conjectured

Lest thou might'st think I'd fallen upon a sin

but I prefer the first.

But seldom mirth; will smile, but seldom laugh; Will lend an ear to business, deal in none:

Gaze upon revels, antick fopperies,

But is not mov'd; will sparingly discourse,
Hear music; but what most he takes delight in,
Are handsome pictures.

goodly,

One so young, and

So sweet in his own nature, any story

Hath seldom mention'd.

Men. Why should such as I am,

Groan under the light burthens of small sorrows,
Whenas a prince, so potent, cannot shun
Motions of passion? To be man, my lord,
Is to be but the exercise of cares

In several shapes; as miseries do grow,

They alter as men's forms; but how none know. Amet. This little isle of Cyprus sure abounds In greater wonders, both for change and fortune, Than any you have seen abroad.

Men. Than any

I have observed abroad! all countries else

To a free eye and mind yield something rare;
And I, for my part, have brought home one jewel
Of admirable virtue.

Amet. Jewel, Menaphon?

Men. A jewel, my Amethus, a fair youth;
A youth, whom, if I were but superstitious,
I should repute an excellence more high,
Than mere creations are: to add delight,
I'll tell you how I found him.

Amet. Prithee do.

Men. Passing from Italy to Greece, the tales Which poets of an elder time have feign'd

To glorify their Tempe, bred in me

Desire of visiting that paradise.

To Thessaly I came; and living private,

Without acquaintance of more sweet companions,
Than the old inmates to my love, my thoughts,
I day by day frequented silent groves,
And solitary walks. One morning early
This accident encounter'd me: I heard
The sweetest and most ravishing contention,
That art [and] nature ever were at strife in.+
Amet. I cannot yet conceive, what you infer
By art and nature.

Men. I shall soon resolve you.

A sound of music touch'd mine ears, or rather
Indeed, entranced my soul: As I stole nearer,
Invited by the melody, I saw

This youth, this fair-faced youth, upon his lute,
With strains of strange variety and harmony,
Proclaiming, as it seem'd, so bold a challenge
To the clear choristers of the woods, the birds,
That, as they flock'd about him, all stood silent,
Wond'ring at what they heard. I wonder'd too.
Amet. And so do I; good! on-

Men. A nightingale,

* Vide (Ford says) Fami. Stradam, lib. ii. Prolus. 6. Acad. 2. Imitat. Claudian. This story, as Mr. Lambe observes, has been paraphrased by Crashaw, Ambrose Philips, and others: none of those versions, however, can at all compare for harmony and grace with this before us.