Loves maistresse: or, The Queens masque As it was three times presented before their two Excellent Maiesties, within the space of eight dayes; in the presence of sundry forraigne ambassadors. Publikely acted by the Queens Comœdians, at the Phœnix in Drury-Lane. Written by Thomas Heywood.

Loues Mistris.

ACT. I.

SC••NE. I.

Enter Apuleius, with a paire of Ass••, 〈◊〉〈◊〉i•• 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉.

HOw 〈◊◊◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊◊◊〉? Or else how 〈◊◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊◊〉first Into an 〈◊〉〈◊〉? W••y 〈◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉, Of 〈◊〉〈◊〉▪ 〈◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉? I 〈◊〉〈◊〉a 〈◊◊◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊◊◊〉, Beyond the 〈◊〉〈◊〉; 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 Me thought was formy 〈◊〉〈◊〉••ll ••oo 〈◊〉〈◊〉; Therefore, I 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉I 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉: That knowing man who 〈◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉▪ But pries into 〈◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 Further then leave; 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 Ceaseth to be a ma•• and 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉▪ And 〈◊〉〈◊〉I 〈◊〉〈◊〉▪ 〈◊◊◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊◊◊〉 That calls ••ll 〈◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉, Am once more to my 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉,

With whom my lost soule 〈◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉, Knowing, of them thou 〈◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊〉least; But first Ile shew a 〈◊〉〈◊〉of 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉, Of Cupids love to 〈◊〉〈◊〉, 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉▪ Ile make thee then 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉▪ Thy treason 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 〈◊〉〈◊〉▪ Withall, not onely 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉, But all true 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉are 〈◊〉〈◊〉▪

Mi.

Thou hast 〈◊〉〈◊〉with 〈◊〉〈◊〉, by Pan Ile stay; But take 〈◊〉〈◊〉Poet that your 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉sound, Else with thine 〈◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊〉thou 〈◊〉〈◊〉be 〈◊〉〈◊〉.

Ap.

〈◊〉〈◊〉two 〈◊〉〈◊〉▪ 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉, there 〈◊〉〈◊〉: Bee you the 〈◊〉〈◊〉, 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉you 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Vnto this 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉▪

〈◊〉〈◊〉.

Recorders. Enter Admetus, 〈◊〉〈◊〉, 〈◊〉〈◊〉, 〈◊〉〈◊〉, Petrea, Psiche.

Ad.

You 〈◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊〉to 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 〈◊〉〈◊〉▪ Wee have past the great'st part of our 〈◊〉〈◊〉; Listen, oh listen, for these 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉▪ The aires light 〈◊◊◊◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊◊◊◊〉 Immortall tunes; tell 〈◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 At 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉; see the 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 〈1 line〉〈1 line〉 〈1 line〉〈1 line〉 〈1 line〉〈1 line〉 〈1 line〉〈1 line〉

〈◊〉〈◊〉.

Oh 〈◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊〉with a most 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉

To kisse this hallowed earth.

Zelo.

Ladies kneele downe.

Astio.

And sir relate to 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Why this religious voyage was 〈◊〉〈◊〉.

Ad.

Daughters I shall: Sacred Apollo, god of Archerie, Of Arts, of Phisicke, and of 〈◊〉〈◊〉▪ 〈1 line〉〈1 line〉 Like 〈◊〉〈◊〉flames, 〈◊〉〈◊〉a most divine And dazling splendor on these lesser 〈◊〉〈◊〉, Which from 〈◊〉〈◊〉guilt 〈◊〉〈◊〉, 〈◊〉〈◊〉thy 〈◊〉〈◊〉retires, Kindle those tapers that 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉to night▪ Oh thou that art the 〈◊〉〈◊〉of all light▪ Bridegroome to 〈◊〉〈◊〉, dayes 〈◊〉〈◊〉King▪ To whom Nine Muses in a sacred ring, In dances sphericall, trip hand in hand, Whilst thy well-stringed 〈◊〉〈◊〉their feet command; Great Delphian Priest, wee to 〈◊〉〈◊〉thy 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Have burnt fat thighs of 〈◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉, Whose savor wrap'd in clowds of smoake 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉, To thy Starre-spangled 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉; Tell us who shall 〈◊〉〈◊〉the 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 Of the white-handed 〈◊〉〈◊〉 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 Of three most 〈◊〉〈◊〉▪ it most 〈◊〉〈◊〉, All love, but none 〈◊〉〈◊〉love will 〈◊〉〈◊〉 With nuptiall rights; what must of 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 Dread 〈◊〉〈◊〉 tell, to whom shall 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉.

Apol.

Cloath 〈◊〉〈◊〉 in a 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉, Then leade and 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉on 〈◊〉〈◊〉hill, Where 〈◊〉〈◊〉 〈◊〉〈◊〉their 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉▪

Her husband not of Humane race; But one, whose flaming sight doth kill, And yet wants eyes; his serpents face If shee behold, shee must see hell; And yet by some notorious deede, Obtaine a Patent from that place Never to die: Psiche farewell, Much joy'd, much greev'd; 〈◊〉〈◊〉that spell.

Ex. Apollo.

Ad.

Much griev'd, and yet much joy'd, poore girle, I feare The scale of griefe will weigh downe that of cheere.

Me••e.

Shee must see hell; and yet shee neere shall die; True, for hells torments live eternally.

Asti.

But father, no tongue shall her joyes expresse.

Petre.

Phebus, thy words leave us all comfortlesse.

Psi.

I must espouse a ••rpent, that's my hell.

Zelo.

But since you never shall behold his face, Your torments cannot bee too horrible.

Mene.

Is't possible, by deeds impossible To attaine the Crow••e of im••ortality: It cannot bee; Th•• mocking Ph••bus leaves us, Alwayes in clowds of darkenesse to deceive us.

Ad.

Stay thy prophane 〈◊〉〈◊〉, least 〈◊〉〈◊〉wrath Strike thee with 〈◊〉〈◊〉from his 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉: Thou must be cloth'd in mourning, so 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉▪ A mourning habite, and a thought-〈◊〉〈◊〉heart; Thou must be left alone on Ven•• hill; The destinies 〈◊〉〈◊〉, wee 〈◊〉〈◊〉fulfill: Thy husband must 〈◊〉〈◊〉sight▪ and yet have eyes That flame, and kill; oh leave these misteries Vntill the Gods 〈◊〉〈◊〉them; come, let's hence:

Change your Arcadian tunes to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 sounds, Sad 〈◊〉〈◊〉are sweetest, where deepe woe confounds.

Exeunt omnes.

Recorders. Enter Venus.

Ven.

Cupid my sonne, where's hee?

Wi••hin.

Cup.

Anon-forsooth.

Ven.

Ile gather rods of roses, if yo•• m••ck 〈◊〉〈◊〉 With your anon-forsooth.

Wi••hin.

Cup.

Anon-forsooth.

Ven.

Shall I be still thus vext? still wh••n my blood Boyles in the fire of anger, then this ape With purpose frets mee.—Boy.

Enter Cupid.

Cup.

Anon-forsooth.

Ven.

Will Iuno come, or C••res? 〈◊〉〈◊〉

Cup.

Iuno lay lolling in my Vncles lapp.

Ven.

Which Vncle?

Cup.

Vncle 〈◊〉〈◊〉: I laught out-right To see how (want on-like) with both her 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Shee clung about his n••cke; gave him ten kisses, Toy'd with his locks, look'd babies in his eyes, And 〈◊〉〈◊〉shee would not watch him when hee went Amongst his wenches, if hee'd turn•• away His sawcie page, the smooth-fac'd 〈◊〉〈◊〉; The boy by chance upon her fan had spilt A cup of Nectar; oh how Iuno swore: I told my Aunt I'de give her a new 〈◊〉〈◊〉,

To let ••oves page be Cupids seruing-man.

Ven.

What's this to Venus message, what said 〈◊〉〈◊〉?

Cu.

I ask'd her when shee'd come, and in good sooth, shee answered nothing but anon-forsooth.

Ven.

And where was Ceres, what did shee replie?

Cu.

Ceres was binding garlands for God Pan, Of Blew-••••••••ies, and yellow Pi••••••beds That grew amongst the Wheate, with which she crown'd His forked browes, and woed him with his horne To rouze the ••kipping Satirs, to goe hunt A heard of swine that rooted up her come: I ask'd her wh•••• shee'd come, and in good sooth Shee sent me packing with anon forsooth.

Ven.

I sent for Pan, and for Apollo too, What news from them?

Cu.

They said they would bee heere immediately.

Enter Pan, and Apollo.

Apo.

Why in such haste hath Venus sent for us?

Ven.

I sent for Iuno, and for Ceres too, But they'le not come.

Pan.

Well, what's the news with you?

Ven.

Have you not heard how Venus is contemn'd? Her Temples gaz'd at, but not tro••d upon, Her stately hangings, and her pillowes torne; Those rosie garlands that her ••••••••••es crown'd, Are wither'd, or else trampled on the ground; Those troopes that flock'd to Paphos to adore mee, Shun Paphos now, and scornefully abhorre mee.

〈◊〉〈◊〉.

That's strange, for all 〈◊〉〈◊〉up to 〈◊〉〈◊〉in love▪ Boyes without beards get boyes, 〈◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉, Fine little rattle-babies, 〈◊〉〈◊〉thus high, Are now call'd wives; If long this hot 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉, Wee shall have all the earth turne 〈◊〉〈◊〉.

Ven.

All honour Love, but none adore Loves Queene.

Apol.

The injury i•• 〈◊〉〈◊〉; but 〈◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊〉it?

Ven.

From Psiche daughter to 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 King; They call her Queene of Love, will 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉other, And sweare my Sonne shall 〈◊〉〈◊〉and call her mother.

Cup.

But Cupid sweares to make the jacks forsworne.

Apol.

Will 〈◊〉〈◊〉 swallow this disgrace?

〈◊〉〈◊〉.

What shall Pan doe in this?

Ven.

Lend me your ayds: If you meete 〈◊〉〈◊〉, charge young 〈◊〉〈◊〉 To send mee to her, or Impri••on her Till you have sent 〈◊〉〈◊〉word.

Apol.

If this be all, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 shall 〈◊〉〈◊〉her wish.

〈◊〉〈◊〉.

Pan by his vpright hornes and beard doth sweare To hunt out 〈◊〉〈◊〉; but if I doe this, What will sweete Venus give 〈◊〉〈◊〉?

Ven.

A sweete kisse; And Phebus shall have one, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 another, Vpon condition they will right those 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Which Psiche in her great pride throwes oh 〈◊〉〈◊〉: Draw from thy quiver a dull 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉, And stricke it through her 〈◊〉〈◊〉to her heart; Make her in Love, but let her proud eyes doate On some ill-shapen 〈◊〉〈◊〉, some ugly 〈◊〉〈◊〉: Doe this; Ile weave for thee a 〈◊〉〈◊〉

Of Roses, mixt with 〈◊〉〈◊〉haire; And give thee my best 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and my Doves To hunt with on the earth; or in the ayre; Wilt thou doe this my boy?

Cup.

I will forsooth.

Ven.

Nay doe not mock mee, wilt thou?

Cup.

Yes indeede, Indeede I will forsooth.

Ven.

Sweete lad 〈◊〉〈◊〉then▪ Apollo, Pan, revenge poore Venus 〈◊〉〈◊〉, Whil st I 〈◊〉〈◊〉my siluer coloured teame, To wanton on the bosome of yo•• streame.

Exit.

Apol.

Now shee hath ••all'd me downe unto the earth, Ile try what pastimes dwell amongst the swaines.

Exit.

Pan.

And with my Satires I will have some sport Heere in the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 vaslyes.

Exit.

Cup.

Shall Psiches beautious eyes gaze on base love? Noe, let my Mother storme, and 〈◊〉〈◊〉and lower, Shee shall be none but Cupids Paramoure:

Enter Zephirus.

Ho Zephirus,—how now thou puffing slave, Art thou growne proud, thou swell'st so? Gentle winde, Clap on thy smoothest feathers, 〈◊〉〈◊〉wings, And mount thee to the top of yonder rocke, There shalt thou find anon, a forlorne 〈◊〉〈◊〉, Conuey her gently downe into the vaile That borders on my bower; 〈◊〉〈◊〉this perform'd, And I will cloath thee in a grafse-greene roabe, Spotted with Dasies, Pincks, and Marigolds; Ile play the thiefe in 〈◊〉〈◊〉 treasurie, To 〈◊〉〈◊〉all eyes in love with Zephirus;

〈◊〉〈◊〉hence, doe this, and henceforth be thou King Of all the W••ndes, and father of the Spring.

〈◊〉〈◊〉.

Enter Admetus, Menetius, Zelotis, Astioche, Petrea, Psiche.

Ad.

Behold the foote of that unhappy rocke, Vpon whose frozen top, by Phebus 〈◊〉〈◊〉, Thou must abide thy most sinister hap.

Astio.

Deare sister 〈◊〉〈◊〉.

Psi.

Peace Astioche, Petrea, Father: you should all have mourn'd When the mad spirits of the multitude Kneel'd downe, and call'd mee 〈◊〉〈◊〉, then have wept, When Cithareas Altars were left bare▪ And I was call'd a goddesse; when these teares, Whose 〈◊〉〈◊〉makes my funerall lights burne dimme, Might have quench'd Venus wrath; but leave mee now To fight with death, or 〈◊〉〈◊〉worse misery.

Mene.

But lurkes that serpent in this 〈◊〉〈◊〉rocke?

Pet.

So said Apollo.

Zelo.

Then Menetius, Wee will conduct faire Psich•• to the cave, And rip the monsters intrailes with our sword••.

Psi.

Forbeare all force, I will ascend alo••e▪ Phebus will be displeas'd; Alone said hee, Distressed Psiche shall climbe up yon hill.

Ad.

The way is dangerous, thou wilt loose thy selfe Without a guide.

If thus I talke to them,—Who fills this wine, And tempts my eye with it? as who should say, Drinke Psiche.

Eccho.

Drinke P••iche. 2. Drinke Psiche. 3. Drinke Psiche,

Psi.

Ile taste no drop of this inchanted wine: Faine from this magick 〈◊〉〈◊〉would I rise, Y•• dare not; oh let Psiche see your eyes, Or rid me hence, and set my feares in peace.

Ecch.

Peace. 2. Peace. 3. Peace.

Enter Cupid.

Cup.

How lovely is my Psiche; earth's too base To be possest of her Celestiall forme: My Mother hates her; for the gods I feare Would banish her from earth, my Love being there; And therefore shall shee live in C••pids Bower, For shee 〈◊〉〈◊〉to bee Loves Paramoure: Oh how my faire eyes wound mee; by this kisse, And this white hand.

Psi.

Oh mee! what voice is this I 〈◊〉〈◊〉? besides, soft fingers, and a ring.

Cup.

Long white fingers; soft white hand, Ring and all at thy command.

Psi.

Is this my husband then?

Cup.

Ho Zephirus, Remove hence these Ambrosian dishes straight.

Zephirus takes off the Banquet.

Psi.

My father much mist••ke the Oracle;

To this sweete voice, could I enjoy the sight, I should my selfe then stile Queene of delight.

Cup.

Pleasure shall bee thy lackie; wilt thou hunt, Then in an ayerie charriot drawne by birds, On the winds downie backe my love shall ride; Mild Zephirus shall be thy Waggoner; Who if the heate offend, his 〈◊〉〈◊〉wings Shall fan coole ayre upon thee, yet my love, If thou commit'st one sinne, thou art not mine.

Psi.

Name it, and Ile avoid it for your sake.

Cu.

Thy mourning sisters shortly will returne, And seeke thee on the rocke from whence thou cam'st, But shun their sight and speech; Psiche doe this, Thou rob'st mee else of Love, thy selfe of blisse.

Psi.

Not speake nor see my sisters; oh what pleasure Can Psiche take, lock't in a golden Iayle?

Cup.

Runne not unto thy ruine gentle love; Yet if thou needs wilt see and 〈◊〉〈◊〉with them, Command my 〈◊〉〈◊〉Zephirus to bring them From top of yonder rocke into this vaile; But if they make inquiry who I am, Fill both their laps with gold, and send them gon▪ Besides I woe thee by this nuptiall 〈◊〉〈◊〉, Doe not perswade me to disclose my shape, Attempting that, thon loosest this high state; I then must leave thee, thou live desolate.

Psi.

In all these things, I will obey my love.

Cup.

Then Psiche, in thine un••ene husbands hand Claspe thy white fingers; Ile now 〈◊〉〈◊〉thy bed With the sweete spoiles of thy lost Maiden-head.

Exeunt.

I like him best.

Ap.

That Midas, is thy brother, A piece of mooving earth, illiterate, dull; Who having in himselfe naught commendable, Enuies what's good in others; and yet dare In his owne impudence, with Arts compare: A blocke, a stone, yet learning hee'le revile, And a dull Ignorant Asse wee will him stile.

Mi.

But where's your Poet Asse among all these?

Dance and Exit.

Ap.

Ther's no such creature.

Mi.

Then what call'st thou those That let not men lie quiet in their graves, But hant their ghosts with ballatts, and bal'd rimes? Doe they not teach the very feinds in hill Speake in blanke verse; doe wee not daily see Every dull-witted Asse spit Poetrie: And for thy Scene; thou bring'st heere on the stage A young greene-sicknesse baggage to run after A little ape-fac'd boy thou tearm'st a god; Is not this most absur'd?

Ap.

Mis-understanding foole, thus much conceive, Psiche is Anima, Psiche is the Soule, The Soule a Virgin, longs to be a bride, The soule's Immortall, whom then can shee wooe But Heaven? whom wed, but Immortality: Oh blame not Psiche then, if mad with rage, Shee long for this so divine marriage.

Mid.

But tell mee then, why should Apollo say, All love her, and yet none will marry her.

Ap.

All love faire Psiche, all cast amorous eyes On the soules beautie, but who is't will wed her? None with the sou'e will leade so strict a life As heaven enjoynes, with such a blessed wife.

Mi.

Thou promp'st my understanding pretty well; But why should Venus being Queene of Love, Wish her sonne Cupid to enamour her On some base groome mis-shapen, and deform'd?

Ap.

By Venus heere, is meant untemperate lust; Lust woes her sonne Desire, to inflame the soule With some base groome, that's to some ugly sinne; Desire is good and ill; the evill swear••s To obay his mother Venus, and vexe Psiche: But Cupid representing true desire, Doates on the Soules sweete beauty, sends his scruant Zephirus; In whom, Celestiall pleasur's meant, To entice his love, the Soule, to his chast bed, Giving her heaven for her lo••t maiden-head.

Mi.

Onely one riddle more, and I have done; Why did the poore girle Psiche take such paines? What scrambling shift shee made to climbe the mountaine, And crawle through brakes and briers to get a husband.

Ap.

This shewes how many strong adversities, Crosses, Pricks, Thornes, and stings of conscience, Would throw the ambitious soule affecting heaven, Into dispaire, and fainting diffidence, Which Psiche must passe through; the Soule must 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Through thousand letts, to 〈◊〉〈◊〉eternitie.

Mi.

Thou hast made this somewhat plaine.

Ap.

Kind Gentlemen,

Long flaxen curled tresses crowne his head. Come, come, you shall not be enamored On my faire husband; this for all suffice, Hee's young and rich.

Asti.

Oh how my blood doth ri•• In enuy of her high felicitie; speake, what's his name?

Psi.

Home, Home; more musicke there, I must to r••st:

Recorders. Enter Zephirus with baggs.

Ho Zephirus, come foorth, and bring mee brim-full baggs of gold: Hold up your lapps; tho'them you cannot see That bring this gold, this larges take from mee; Adien, adeiu: my duty to the King, I needs must stop mine eares when Syrens sing.

Exit.

Petr.

Astioche.

Asti.

Petrea, oh, I am mad to note her pride; Her husband is no serpent as 'twas said, And false Apollo sung; hee is some god, And this his Temple, for no mortall hand Hath laid these Christiall pavements, cloath'd these meades In never-faiding liveries of greene; Flora you see cloathes all the ground with flowers, Flora is Psiches hand-maid; Zephirus Is but her foote-boy, lackeys at her becke.

Petr.

Yet shee's our sister, and it doth mee good To see rich worth in any of our blood.

Asti.

Thou art a foole Petrea, for I hate That any's fortune should transcend my state; Shee sends us hence in scorne, but wee'le returne, And never cease, till by some treachery, Her prid wee make a slave to misery.

Excunt.

Enter Admetus, Menetius, and Zelotis,

Mene.

Patience great sir, you have not lost them all, Doubtlesse the two last live.

Zelo.

Sir though they be your daughters, th'are our wives, And wee are in no such despaire of them.

Ad.

Admit you were one for Astioche, And that another for Petrea wept, You two, but for two wives shed husbands teares; For you and them, I sorrow all: your feares Devided betwixt you; on me alone, Lies like a mountaine, and thus casteth downe Admetus wretched body, with his crowne; They followed Psiche and her 〈◊〉〈◊〉, ••ath given them death, us living misery.

Enter Evemore.

Eve.

Rise Royall Sir, your Daughters are return'd.

Ad.

Oh where, which way; are my two daughters come?

Eve.

Yes sir, and both their lapps are fill'd with gold.

Enter Astioche and Petrea.

Ad.

Wellcome to both in one; oh can you tell What fate your sister hath?

Both.

Psiche is well.

Ad.

So among mortalls, it is often sed, Children and friends are well, when they are dead.

Astio.

But Psiche lives, and on her breath attends.

Delights that farre surmount all earthly joy; Musicke, sweete voyces, and Ambrosian fare, Windes, and the light-wing'd creatures of the ayre; Cleere channel'd rivers, springs, and flowrie meades, Are proud when 〈◊〉〈◊〉 wa••tons on their streames, When Psiche on their rich Imbroidery treades, When Psiche guilds their Christall with her beames; Wee have but seene our sister; and behold She sends us with our lapps full brimm'd with gold.

Adm.

Oh, you amaze me Daughters.

Pet.

Let joy banish amazement from your Kingly thoug•• Psiche is wedded to some 〈◊〉〈◊〉, And prayes withall, our 〈◊〉〈◊〉returne againe.

Ad.

VVee grant it; wee with you and these, will goe To Psiches bowre; desire inflames my minde, To sit on the bright wings of that blest winde.

Asti.

Oh but the god that governes Psiches thoughts; For sure hee is Immortall; charg'd my sister To talke with none but us.

Petr.

Yet by the 〈◊〉〈◊〉of our tongues wee'le try If wee can win you so much libertie.

Ad.

〈◊〉〈◊〉my Astioche, but come againe To comfort him that must thy want complaine; Goe with my love Petrea, but returne VVith winged speede, whil'st 〈◊〉〈◊〉your absence mourne; Goe with my blessing; blest those sisters bee, That live like you in bonds of unitie: Give Psiche this; give her thou this Petrea, Tell her shee is my selfe, my soules Idea, And say, whil'st shee is spotlesse, lovely white,

Kisseth them.

〈◊〉〈◊〉shall bee my 〈…〉〈…〉 〈…〉〈…〉 with 〈…〉〈…〉

Enter Clowne, with three or foure Swaines.

Clo.

And what might you call that yong gentleman, that rules and raignes, 〈…〉〈…〉 of 〈…〉〈…〉 from your ••••ocks and leaves you 〈…〉〈…〉 in your heads then in your sheepe-hookes? What might you call this gallant?

1. Swa.

〈4 lines〉〈4 lines〉

2. Swa.

〈1 line〉〈1 line〉

Clo.

Cupid Coxcombe: your Satyrs are all sots, your Fawnes fooles, and your Pan a 〈…〉〈…〉; had I 〈…〉〈…〉 I know not what I 〈…〉〈…〉 I would 〈1 line〉〈1 line〉

••. Swa.

They 〈…〉〈…〉

Clo.

〈…〉〈…〉 and how lies hee?where's his guard? what's his play? Can any of you 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 me his 〈◊〉〈◊〉title

••. Swa.

Not I 〈…〉〈…〉

Clo.

Then harken oh you 〈…〉〈…〉 oh you 〈◊〉〈◊〉whil'st I give you his 〈…〉〈…〉 Hee is King of cares, 〈1 line〉〈1 line〉 Prince of 〈…〉〈…〉 Duke of disasters, dissemblers, 〈…〉〈…〉

and mad-folkes▪ grand 〈◊〉〈◊〉of griefes, and grones; Lord of lamentations, Heroe of hi••-〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and Mounsier of mutton-lac'd.

2. Swaine.

Heere's a stile I shall never bee able to get over.

Cl••.

And who doe yo•• thinke maintaines this princox in his 〈◊〉〈◊〉?

1. 〈◊〉〈◊〉.

Nay, it 〈◊〉〈◊〉my 〈◊〉〈◊〉▪

Clo.

A company of 〈◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉▪ did you never heare of one Homer, and 〈◊〉〈◊〉the Tale of Tr••y, and of a te•• yeeres 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and many 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉.

2. Swa.

〈◊〉〈◊〉, and many 〈◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉.

Clowne.

But heare 〈◊〉〈◊〉, 〈◊◊◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊◊◊〉▪ This Troy was a 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉••ome 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉; and 〈◊〉〈◊〉, as silly a fellow as I 〈◊〉〈◊〉, 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉loving to play the good fel∣low, h••e had a great many bowsing 〈◊〉〈◊〉; whom 〈◊〉〈◊〉called sonnes.

3. 〈◊〉〈◊〉.

As 〈◊〉〈◊〉have 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉.

〈◊〉〈◊〉.

Iust the same; by this Troy ••anne a 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉, that one might stride over; on the other 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 a Far∣mer, who had a light wench to his Wife call'd Hellen, that kept his sheepe, whom Paris, one of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 mad lads, s••e∣ing and liking, ticeth over the brooke, and lies with her i•• despight of her husbands teeth; for which wrong, 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉for one 〈◊〉〈◊〉 his 〈◊〉〈◊〉, 〈◊〉〈◊〉was then high 〈◊〉〈◊〉of the hundred, and complaynes to him: hee sends to one Vlisses, a faire spoken fellow, and Towne-clarke, and to di∣vers others, amongst whom was one 〈◊〉〈◊〉fellow called A∣jax, a Butcher, who upon a Holy-day, brings a payre of 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and layes them downe in the mid'st, where the

Two Hundred•• were 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉, 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 a 〈◊〉〈◊〉, 〈◊〉〈◊〉bould lad of the other side 〈◊〉〈◊〉, steps 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and takes them up; these two had a bowte or two 〈◊〉〈◊〉a broken pate; And heere was all the circumstance of the Trojan Warres.

1. Swa.

To see what these Poets can doe.

Clowne.

But listen to them, and they will fill your heads with a thousand 〈◊〉〈◊〉; obserue one thing, there's none of you all sooner in 〈◊〉〈◊〉, 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉is troubled with their itch, for hee will bee in his Amorets, and his Canzonets, his Pastoralls, and his Madrigalls, to his Phillis, and his A∣morillis.

1. Swa.

Oh beautious 〈◊〉〈◊〉.

Clo.

And what's Amorillis thinkst thou?

1. Swa,

A faire and lovely creature.

Clo.

Ile shew thee the contrary by her owne name, Amor is love, illis, is ill; is ill, cannot bee good; Ergo 〈◊〉〈◊〉 is starke naught; let one or two examples serue for more, there's one of our fayrest Nimphes called Susanna; what is Susanna, but Sus and 〈◊〉〈◊〉, which is 〈◊〉〈◊〉plaine Arcadia, Nan is a Sow.

2. Swa.

Well, you have taught us more then ••ver I under∣stood before, concerning Poetrie.

Clowne.

Come to mee but one howre in a morning, and Ile reade deeper Philosiophie to you; good-morrow Neighbors; Poets, quoth a; What's Titule tu patule, but Titles and Pages; What's Propria que maribu••, but a Propper man loves Mary-bons, or Feminno generi 〈◊〉〈◊〉, but the Femi∣nine Gender is troublesome; what's Ovid, but quasi avoide; now should I be in love, with whom? with Doll, what's that but

〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉, 〈◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉, 〈◊◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊◊〉black-pot, or what's 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉for 〈◊◊◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊◊◊〉 poste: no Cupid▪ 〈◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊〉and all thy 〈◊〉〈◊〉.

Enter Cupid.

Cup.

What's hee that ••o 〈◊〉〈◊〉our 〈◊〉〈◊〉? And scornes that power which all the gods adore; To whom Iove some-times bends, and Neptune kneeles, Mars homageth, and Phebus will submit, Slie Mercury obay, and Vulcan bow too; And all the rurall gods and goddesses, Saytirs and Nimphes, allow their soveraigne; Hee shall not scape unpunished.

Clo.

If I could but find one of these fantasticall Poet••, or light upon that little god their Patron, I would so tickl•• them.

Cup.

This hobinall, this rusticke, this base clowne; I find him of a dull and braine-lesse eye, Such as I know a golden-headed shaft Will never enter; of a skinne so thicke, As pointed siluer hath no power to pierce: For such grosse fooles, I have a boult in store, Which though it cannot wound, shall give a blow, To startle all within him.

Shootes.

Clo.

Oh me, hey-hoe.

Cup..

Lie there base Midas bastard, that refuses All-honour'd love, and rayl'st against the Muses.

Exit.

Clo.

Oh coward, whatsoere thou art, to come behind a man

and strikehim before, 〈◊〉〈◊〉I saw nobody—to 〈◊〉〈◊〉▪ 〈◊〉〈◊〉never give a man warning, oh coward, I am payd, I am p••p∣per'd; the case is alter'd, for any one may 〈◊〉〈◊〉••y th•• huge∣nesse of the blow, that I 〈◊〉〈◊〉in love; ay—me, that any wench were heere, whose name is 〈◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊〉I be in love with any madge, though she were an Howlet, 〈◊〉〈◊〉with any mayd, though she look't like a Malkin; Oh Poetry, I find that I am poyson'd with thee too; for me-thinks I could 〈◊〉〈◊〉my prayers in blanke-verse, nay let me see, I thinke I 〈◊〉〈◊〉rime for a neede;

Cupid I 〈◊〉〈◊〉, since so I know thy 〈◊〉〈◊〉, And Ile goe 〈◊〉〈◊〉me out so••e 〈◊〉〈◊〉▪

Exit.

Enter Psiche alone.

Psi.

There's at this time a combat in my soule, Whether to trust my well-knowne sisters better, Or my yet unseene husband; I have asked, Demanded, and enquired of all my 〈◊〉〈◊〉, This fairy-traine that hourely 〈◊〉〈◊〉on mee, Yet none of them will tell mee what hee is▪

Enter Cupid.

Besides, this sollitude to be alone, Begins to grow most tedious, and my ••eares Doe every way distract mee.

Cup.

Why how now Psiche?

Psi.

Oh let Mercies eyes Shine on my fault.

Cup.

Are these thy heaven-bound vowes? Are all thy protestations guilded ayre?

Hast thou no more regard to my command, Or thine owne safety?

Psi.

Deare love pardon mee.

Cup.

Once more I doe; and still must pardon thee, And thou must still offend, still torture mee; Yet once againe Ile try thy constancy: Thy ••isters are at hand.

Psi.

But gentle Love, Shall I not speake to them?

Cup.

Yes, but I woe thee To send them quickly hence, or they'le undoe thee; They n••w are at the Rock, bid the coole winde To pl••ase thee, bring them to the place assign'd.

Exit.

Enter Zephirus with the two Sisters.

Psi.

Ho Zephirus, Tell ••e the cause of your so quicke returne?

Asti.

Psiche wee come with danger of our lives, To save our sister from ensuing harme.

Psi.

What harme? What danger?

Asti.

Danger eminent, Once you refused our Counsell, and deni'd To let us know your husband, or his name.

Petr.

Come, let's see him.

Psi.

Oh, what shall I doe?

Petr.

Escape the danger you are fall'n in••.

Psi.

You cannot see him.

Asti.

Give us then his shape?

Psi.

His shape, why hee's a man whose ••owie head Bowes on his 〈◊〉〈◊〉, through the 〈◊〉〈◊〉of age.

Asti.

That cannot bee; you 〈◊〉〈◊〉hee was a youth Of comely stature, with long 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉.

Psi.

I am entr••p'd.

Asti.

Speake, did you ever see your husband?

Psi.

Why doe you aske, pray trouble me no more; Leave me, and I will fill your lapps with gold.

Asti.

Once thy gold ••empted us to leave this 〈◊〉〈◊〉, And to betray thy life to misery, It shall not now; did not Appollo doome Thy fatall marriage to some hiddeous beast; How just is Phebus in his aug••ies; Last night, when wee went 〈◊〉〈◊〉laden with gold, Wee spide a serpent gliding on the meade, Who at the sight of us, writhing his head Proudly into the ayre, first hist at heaven, Because it did not shade him from our eyes.

Psi.

How did that serpent vanish from your sight?

Asti.

In at these gates hee rowld, Psiche be wise, For tho' a while hee dally with thy beauty, Dulling thy taste with sweetes, thy eyes with shewes, Thy eares with musicke, and sweete lullabies▪ Hee will in time devoure thee.

Psi.

Miserable wretch, How shall I flie the fate that follows mee? Whose helpe shall I inuoke?

Petr.

Tell us the trueth, And wee'le devise some meanes to succour thee.

Psi.

You are my sisters, I confesse to you,

I never saw his 〈◊〉〈◊〉, know not his 〈◊〉〈◊〉▪ Yet have I 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉, 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉his 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Oft have I 〈◊◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊◊〉oft 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉▪ Eyes, hands, lipps, 〈◊◊◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊◊◊〉 touch, That I have sworne, save his, there were none such, Yet your strang•• story makes mee to suspect That hee's some 〈◊〉〈◊〉, for hee tells me still, To see his glorious shape, will 〈◊〉〈◊〉mee▪ Besides 〈◊〉〈◊〉bids 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉your 〈◊〉〈◊〉, Eise you will breede my sorrow; this is that Which troubles mee.

Asti.

Heare then my counsell; Instantly provide A keene-edg'd raysor, and a 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉▪ At night, when 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉on 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉eyes, Steale from his speckled side, 〈◊〉〈◊〉to 〈◊〉〈◊〉light, And without feare behold his horrid shape, And with the raysor cut his 〈◊〉〈◊〉throate; And so by death gaine life, and hee being dead, Psiche shall 〈◊〉〈◊〉some King be m••rried.

Petr.

How doth our sister relish this devise?

Psi.

I doe embrace your councell, and this night Ile put the same in execution; Come, you have made mee resolute and bould, And now receive your lapps ore-swell'd with gold.

Exit.

Asti.

Swell in thy pride, untill thou break'st thy heart, Yet come, wee'le take her larges ere wee part.

Exit.

Enter Midas and Apuleius.

Mi.

Poet no more; I have enough of Psiche;

Her sisters and the serpent, all of them Most villanous 〈◊〉〈◊〉, Ile 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉, 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 To please my selfe, and keepe 〈◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉, Thou'lt let mee shew thee 〈◊〉〈◊〉of our 〈◊〉〈◊〉sport, Such as wee use heere in Arcadia, I will endure no longer.

Ap.

Well, I am pleas'd.

Mi.

Ile shew thee in a 〈◊〉〈◊〉.

Ap.

Art some-times must give way to 〈◊〉〈◊〉.

A DANCE.

Enter Pan, Clowne, Swaines, and Countrey-wenches; They Dance, and Exit.

Mi.

Was not this sport indeede?

Ap.

My modestie gives thee no reprehension, For I am well pleased with your P••orall mirth, But as thou had'st a power over mine eyes, To sit it out with patience; so lend mee Thy atentive ••ates.

Mi.

〈◊〉〈◊〉cleere thy obsurdities, Nay, grose ones too; heere Psiche lyes abominably, And sayes shee has two husbands, the one young, The other old: How 〈◊〉〈◊〉thou answere this?

Ap.

Though thy vaine doubts be most familiar To these Iudicious hearers, well experenc'd, As well in matters Morrall as Divine; To thee Ile make it plaine.

Mi.

I prethee doe.

Ap.

Did Psiche lie to say shee had two loves? How like art thou to Psiche, shee to thee.

Mi.

To me, I s••orne her likenesse.

Ap.

In this poynt thou art, For rath••r then thy sisters shall grow angry, To make earths drossie pleasures stay for thee, Thou wilt exclaime with Psiche, Cupids young; The joyes of heaven are all too young, too little To be believ'd or look'd at; if that faile, Thou with the soule wil't say, my love is old, Divine delights are crooked like old age, Who will not vow, speake, nay sweare any thing, To have their vaine delights seru'd like a king.

Mi.

'Tis prety, but your Ecchoes pleas'd me best; Oh if a man had seene them.

Ap.

With a mortall eye none can; in them is hid this mistery; Caelestiall raptures, that to allure the sight, Are seene no more then voices being on high, Subject unto no weake, and fleshly eye.

Mi.

But why did Cupid hide himselfe from Psiche?

Ap.

Oh who dares prie into those misteries, That heaven would have conceal'd; for this shee's charg'd Not to see Cupids face, to shun her sisters.

Mi.

Those gadding girles, what did'ft thou meane by them?

Ap.

The restlesse sinnes that travell night and day, Enuying her blisse, the sweete soule to betray.

Mi.

Well, by this little I conceive the rest, I care not greately if I stay it out, But if not lik't, Ile either sleepe or flowte.

Alp.

So will not these I hop••, before they view What hor••d dangers Cupids bride purfue.

Exeu••.

ACT. III.

SCENE. I.

Enter Psiche in night-attire, with a Lampe and a Raysor.

Psi.

TImes eldest daughter Night, mother of 〈◊〉〈◊〉, Thou gentle nurse, that with sweete lulabies, Care-waking hearts to gentle sl••mber charm'st; Thou smooth-cheek t negro night, the black-ey'd Queene, That rid'st about the world on the soft backs Of downy Ravens sleeke and sable plumes, And from thy Charriot, silent darknesse ••lings; In which man, beast, and bird, inueloped, Takes their repose and rest; Psiche intreats thee, Noe Iarre nor sound betray her bold attempt:

Cup. discovered sleeping on a Bed.

Soft silken vaile that curtaines in my doubt, Give way to these white hands, these jealous eyes, Sharpe knife prepar'd for a red sacrifice; Bright lampe conduct me to my love or hate, Make mee this night blest, or infortunate: Wonderous amazement! what doe I behold? A Bow and quiver, these shafts tip'd with gold, With siluer this; this sluggish arrowes head, Is like my heavie heart, compos'd of lead;

Such weapons 〈◊〉〈◊〉 〈◊〉〈◊〉doth 〈◊〉〈◊〉▪ Psiche were happy if this Cupid were; Malitious sisters, I your enuy sec, This is no serpent, but a Deitie: What prety loves, like silken slumbers lie, Closing the covers of each Christall eye; Hence thou prepared instrument of death, Whilst Psiche sucks new life from his sweete breath: Churle beauty, beautions nigard, thus 〈◊〉〈◊〉, Why did'st thou from mine eyes this glory hide? Ah mee, thou envious light, what hast thou done?

Cup.

Immortall powers, oh succour Venus Sonne; What hellish hagg hath drop't this scalding oyle On Loves Caelestiall shape?

Psi.

'Twas Psiches hand.

Cup.

How durst thou violate my dread command? Venus my Mother, bid mee make thee doate On some base groome; and I left her and heaven, And with mine owne darts wounded mine owne brest; For a'l these favours, wouldst thou murder mee?

Psi.

Let my weake sex pleade for my great offence.

Cup.

No, for thy sake, this plague persue thy sex; You shall have appetites, and hot desires, Which though suppli'd, shall nere be satisfied; You shall be still rebellious, like the Sea, And like the windes inconstant; things forbid You most shall covet, loath what you should like; You shall be wise in wishes, but enjoying, Shall venture heavens losse for a little toying: Ho Ze••hirus.

Enter Zephirus.

Psi.

What will my deare love doe?

Cup.

Hence, touch me not, Ile be no more thy love: Discharge my seruants from this fairy vaile, Resigne thy office to the boystrous North, Bid famine ride upon his frozen wings, Till they be blasted with his poysonous breath; Musicke, be turn'd to horror, smiles to teares, Pleasures to shreikes, felicitie to feares.

Psi.

Why doe you plague the place for my offence?

Cu.

Why for thy sisters sake sought'st thou my hate? But I will bee reveng'd on them and thee, On them, for thy sake, on thy selfe, for mee.

Psi.

For pitty heare poore Psiche.

Cup.

Noe, away?

Psi.

I have no way but yours; which way you flie, Ile hang upon your wings, or fall, and die. Cup. Soone shalt thou leave thy hold; run Zephirus,

A st••me. Enter Bereus.

Fetch Boreus—Art thou come my Aquilon: Boreus, I charge thee by Orithias lo••e, Lay waste and barren this faire flowrie grove, And make this Paradice a den of snakes; For I will have it uglier then hell, And none but gastly scrietch-owles heere shall dwell; Breath winters stormes upon the blushing cheekes Of beautious Psiche; with thy boysterous breath, Rend off her silkes, and cloathe her in torne raggs;

H••ng on her loath'd locks base deformity, And beare her to her father, leave her there, Barren of comfort, great with child of feare; Psiche farewell, whil'st thou with woes art crown'd, I must goe gather helpes to cure my wound.

Exit.

Psi.

With woes indeede; those wretches live in woe, Whom love forsakes, and Psiche must doe so.

Ex••nt. With a great Storme.

Enter Clowne, Amarillis, and Swaines.

Clo.

Doe you heare the news, you annimalls?

1. Swa.

Is it worth the hearing?

Clo.

A qvestion well ask'd, for it is musicall news, and there∣fore worth your eares: Apollo being call'd by Venus from hea∣ven, hath ever since kept Admetus his sheepe, with whom Pan meeting, they fell in contention, whether his Pipe or A∣pollos Harpe could yeeld the better Musicke, and which withall could sing the best; come then my sweete Amarillis, and take thy place amongst the rest, for this is the day of the tryall, and amongst others, I heard my father Midas say, that all other businesse set a part, he would be at it; but there is one mischiefe late happened.

2. Swa.

What's that I prithee?

Clo.

Pan hath got a could, is hoarse, and hath lost his voice, and therefore hath chose mee to sing in his place; and Phoe••s, because hee will take no aduantage, hath pick'd o••t one of his Pages to doe the like for him; therefore come, make a lane, for by this time they are upon their enterance.

1. Swaine.

But is it possible, that Pans Pipe dare con∣tend with Apolloes Harpe?

Clo.

Yes that it is possible, blind harper, and that my winde∣pipe shall proove; make roome, and get you all out of the lists save I, that am to be one of the combatants

A Flourish. Enter Apollo, Pan, Admetus, Petrea, Astioche, their two husbands, and Midas.

Pan.

Who shall be Iudge?

Apo.

Admetus.

Ad.

Sacred Apollo, great Pan pardon mee; It is a cunning much beyond my skill, The••fore I humbly crave to be excus••d.

Apol.

Admetus, for thy hospitallity, Phoe••us will be thy f••iend, and gives thee leave In this to use thy pleasure.

Pan.

What thinks Phoebus Of Midas, once of men, now King of beasts.

Apol.

No better man, so please him undertake it.

Mid.

Yes Phoebus, Midas will, and though poo•• Marsias, For striving with thee had his skin pull'd off, Yet have wee Swaines, and some too not ••arre off, I could have said, some neere to mee in blood, Can tickle you for a tone.

Clo.

Meaning mee, and I will set out a throate.

Apol.

Is this thy champion?

Pan.

Yes, and who's for thee?

Apol.

One of my minuts, houres, dayes, weekes, or moneths, Or yeeres, or seasons, that still waite on us,

And have done ever 〈◊〉〈◊〉the first of time; Not one can come amisse.

M••.

Who shall begin?

Ad.

Most voices.

All.

Apollo, Apollo.

Clo.

No matter tho' his Champiaon begin, lot mee alone to come up with the Catastrophie.

All.

Silence, Silence.

SONG.

Phoebus unto thee 〈◊〉〈◊〉sing, Oh thou great 〈◊〉〈◊〉 king: Thou the God of Phisick art, Of Poetry, and Archery; Wee sing unto thee with a heart, Devoted to thy deity: All bright glory cro•• thy 〈◊〉〈◊〉, 〈◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊〉••ll Piety, Whose golden be••es and rayes are shed As well upon the poore as rich▪ For thou alike regardest each; Phoebus unto thee wee sing, Oh thou great Idalian king.

M••.

I 〈◊〉〈◊〉, this was some-what to th purpose; I needs must say 'twas prety, but god Pa••,

Now let us heare your Champion?

Pan.

Come stand forth?

Clow.

SONG.

Thou that art call'd the bright Hiperion, Wer't thou more strong then Spanish Gerion, That had three heads upon one man, Compare not with our great god Pan:

They call thee Sonne of bright Latona, But girt thee in thy torrid 〈◊〉〈◊〉, Sweate, baste, and broyle, as best thou can, Thou art not like our Dripping Pan.

What cares hee for the great god Neptune, With all the br••ath that hee is kept in; Vulcan or Iove hee scornes to bow to, To Hermes, or the infernall Pluto.

Then thou that art the heavens bright eye, Or burne, or scorch, or boyle, or fry, Bee thou god, or bee thou man, Thou art not like our ••rying Pan.

They call thee Phoebus, god of day, Yeeres moneths, weekes houres, of March and May; Bring up thy 〈◊〉〈◊〉in the 〈◊〉〈◊〉▪ Wee'le meete thee with our ••ding Pan.

Thy selfe in thy bright Charriot settle, With Skillet arm'd, Brasse-pot, or Kettle, With Iugg, Black-pot, with ••lasse, or Can, No talking to our Warming Pan.

Thou hast thy beames, thy browes to deck, Thou hast thy Daphne at thy beck; Pan hath his hornes, Sirnjx, and Phillis, And I Pans Swaine, my Amarillis.

Ad.

You Midas have heard both; these onely waite Your just and upright 〈◊〉〈◊〉.

Mi.

Is Phoe•• pleased.

Ap.

Pleased.

Mi.

And is Pan content.

Pan.

Content.

Clow.

Now if my father can but c••sure as well as I sing, the towne's ours.

Mi.

Yes Sonne, I can, and that most learnedly: Thy 〈◊〉〈◊〉to Pans Pipe, yeeld god Phoebns, For't is not now as in Diebus Illis, Pan all the yeere wee follow, But semel in anno ridet Apollo, Thy quirester cannot come 〈◊〉〈◊〉 The voice of this our Chanticleere▪ Then leave off these thy burning rayes, And give to Pan the Prick and prayse, Thy colour change, looke pale and wan, In honour of the great god Pan.

All.

A sentence, a sentence, a Pan, a Pan.

Apol.

Henceforth be all your ••urall musicke such, Made out of Tinkers, Pans, and Kettle-drummes; And never hence-foorth may your fields bee grac'd With the sweete musick of Apollos lyre: Midas for thee, may thy ••ares longer grow, As shorter still thy judgement, dulnesse, and dotage, Bee onely govern'd with those reverend haires; Let all like thee, that as they grow in time, Decay in knowledge, have that old manscurse, To be twice Children: for thy squeaking sonne, May all thy state thou leav'st him at thy death, Bee to sing Ballets through Areadia, And them to the like tunes; fare-well Admetus, My musicke lives unquestion'd, what's amisse Is not in us, but in their ignorance; Thus undisparadg'd, Phoebus leaves the place, And with them to succession, my disgrace.

Exit.

Ad.

Phoebus is gone displeas'd.

Pan.

Still may he be so.

Mi.

Midas I'me sure has judg'd with equitie.

A Storme. Enter Psich•• and Boreas.

Clo.

But see father, see god Pan, 〈◊〉〈◊〉revenge, he hath not sent a blustering wind to blow us all hence; 'tis Boreas, 'tis Boreas.

Pan.

Come Midas, come Swaines, till this storme be past, Let us away to shelter.

Exeu••.

Psi.

Where art thou Psich••, how art thou deform'd? What ayre affords thee breath? what men be these? Where shall I hid mee; let no humane eye

Which now attends thee?

Psi.

Cupid, my deare lord, Pardon my gilt, have pitty on my sorrow?

Cup.

I cannot, no I dare not, heaven, and earth, The destinies, and all th' Immortall powers, Have with the yron pen of Fate, writ downe Thy certaine paine; did I not give thee charge, To taste the pleasures of Immortall love, But not to wade too deepe in mistery? Could not my heavenly company suffice To cheere the soule? but thou with earthly eyes Must see my face; and view my reall beauty, Again•• my charge, thy love, and humane duty.

Psi.

I d•• intreate.

Cup.

Arise, kneele not to mee; But thanke thy sisters, they apparrell'd thee In that distractfull shape; Psiche farewell, Ile mourne in heaven, to see thy paines in hell.

Cupid ascends.

Ad.

Poore miserable child; in stead of teares, My heart weepes blood; I am confounded quite: I have three daughters, thou of all the rest, Had'st in my true conceptions greatest share, For which, I call'd thee Psiche, that's the soule, For as my soule I lov'd thee; now I abjure All interest in thy birth; 〈◊〉〈◊〉from my Court? My hand shall nere lay blessing on thy head, Nor my tongue grace thee with a daughters name, Thou art not mine, but the base birth of shame.

Psi.

Oh whether shall a wretch conuert her eyes,

When her owne father shall her teares despise?

Enter Mercury.

Mer.

Atend Arcadians, The Paoclamation of the Paphian Queene.

Ad.

When Hermes speakes, wee are bound to all attendance.

Mer.

Oh yes, If any can bring Psiche unto Venus—

Asti.

Psiche whom you are sent to seeke, stands there.

Mer.

Then heere ends Mercuries Commission: Psiche, in Venus name, I do•• arrest thee, For wrongs to her and Cupid.

Psi.

I obey Your high arrest, and with an humble suite, Prostrate my selfe to ••rias wrath; Where's angry Venus?

Mer.

Franticke in this grove, Mourning Adonis death,—and heere shee coms.

Enter Venus.

Ven.

Accursed bow, why did'st thou not defend him? Hee shall not die, Adonis still shall live; Apollo, gentle Phoebus mount thy Charriot, And in his co••d brest breath Caelestiall fire, For all earths simples cannot cure his wound; Or if hee must expire, command the Muses To give my love Immortall memory: Hast thou found Psiche? oh that in this rage, I could but now forget her.

Mer.

See where shee stands,

With downe-cast eyes, and weake up-heaved h••nds.

Ven.

Iust of my height, my state, and proportion; And were her pristine beauty lent her backe, Might in the rabbles judgement rivall mee: Strumpet, prophaner of our sacred rights, How hast thou wrong'd mee, and abus'd my sonne? By ayming at my honour, and his life.

Psi.

Dread Paphian Queene, for lovely Cupids sake, And this rich burthen in my wretched wombo, Pitty poore Psiche.

Ven.

Hast thou plaid the strumpet, And for thy sinnes sake must I pardon thee? No, that alone hath made me mercilesse.

Psi.

Helpe mee deare Father, sisters, Mercury.

Ad.

I dare not speake for thee.

Asti.

Nor I.

Petr.

Nor I.

Psi.

Poore Psiche, borne unto aduersity.

Mer.

Bee not so bitter Madam, for his sake, By whom you are made a grandam.

Ven.

I prove •• grandame to a strumpets brat; Goe Mercury, and from some Garner 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Five measures of five severall sorts of graine; Dispatch it Hermes.

Mer.

What will Venus doe?

Ven.

Thou shalt know better when thou back return'st:

Exit. Mercury.

You are young Venus, and the Queene of Lo••, That had th'ambition to be Cupids wife, And marry with a god; Ho Boreus,

Since Mercury is slack in his returne, Winde her inticing locks about thy arme, And tossing her loose carcasse in the ayre, Fling it into the bosome of some storme, And grind her bones to powder in the fall.

Psi.

Pitty me Venus, Father pleade for mee.

Enter Mercury with graine.

Ven.

'Tis well done Hermes, hast thou brought the graine?

Mer.

Madam I have.

Ven.

Then minion, heere's your taske, Looke on all these; see, thus I mingle them.

Psi.

And what must miserable Psiche doe?

Ven.

To severall hea••es, with thine owne hands divide Each severall seede ere the Sun kisse the West, Or looke for death; goe, and when that is done, Ile ride to Paphos and enlarge my sonne, Whom yet I keepe close P••soner in my closet.

Exit.

Ad.

Psiche adieu, none can reverse thy doome.

Asti.

Not I.

Mene.

Nor wee.

Exit. all but Mer. and Psi.

Psi.

I wish the earth my tombe.

Mer.

Take patience Psiche, and be comforted.

Psi.

Comfort, alas what comfort can shee find, Whose father and deare friends prove so unkind.

Mer.

For Cupids sake, who for thy love, now 〈◊〉〈◊〉 A paire of golden shackles on his heeles: This Mercury will doe, flie hence to Phaphos,

And fetch him from his late imprisonment, Then tell him of his mothers tyranie, That done, wee two will teach thee without paine, In severall heapes how to devide this graine.

Exeunt.

Enter Midas and Apulejus.

Mi.

And where have I beene think'st thou Apulejus? Did'st thou not misse mee?

Ap.

Yes, I did not sleepe, as thou did'st in thy judgement.

Mi.

Then I perc••ive, Thou know'st how I maintain'd our rurall musicke, Preferring it before Apollos harpe.

Mi.

Yes, and by that inferre, thou art all earthie, Nothing Caelestiall in thee.

Mi.

All's one for that; now for your morrall.

Ap.

Wil't thou stay it out?

Mi.

No, 'tis too dull, Vnlesse thou'lt quicken me with some conceit, Thy Psiches sadnesse hath made me so heauy, That Morpheus steales upon mee.

Ap.

What wouldst thou seee?

Mi.

Thy little Cupid I like prety well, And would see some-thing else what hee can doe, More then belongs to Psiche.

Ap.

Well, to kepe the awake, Ile shew thee now Loves Contrarieties, Which was more then my promise.

A DANCE.

Enter a King and a Begger, a Young-man and an Old woman, a Leane man, a Fat woman. Dance, & Exit.

Mi.

I marry, this was somewhat like indeede; Heere's youg and old; heere's fat and leane; the begger and the King; Love hath power over all.

But to your morrall now; why comes your Psiche With a sharpe Raysor, and a burning Lampe, To murder Cupid; then hee wakes and chafes, And flings hou•• ont at windowes, was't not so?

Ap.

Ile tell thee; shee charm'd by her sisters tongues, Thinks her faire love a serpent, and growne mad, Would murder Cupid, teare even Iove from heaven; Yet note the greatnesse of Caelestiall mercy; One glimpse, one lampe, one sparke, one devine thought Plucks backe her ar••e, and more inflames her brest With amorous raptures; but because poore soule, Shee aym'd to search forbidden mysteries, Her eyes are blasted, Cupid loathes her sight, Hee leaves her ugly, and his blessed bower Is rent in pieces; For heaven seemes to fall When our poore soules turne diabollicall.

Mi.

For that 'twixt Pan and Phoebus, I know best, For I was there an umpire; but resolue mee; Why left he Psiche when shee lost his love, Yet mourn'd when shee was left of all her friends.

Ap.

All bid the wretched soule run to despaire, When leprous sinne deformes her, but even then,

When the gods hate her? when shee's scorn'd of m••n? Cupid hangs in the ayre; his divine eyes Shed teares for her, comforts her miseries.

Mi.

Yet hee forsooke her too.

Ap.

Till Psiche bee made faire and angel-white, Shee's not to stand in Cupids glorious fight.

Mi.

Well, I am answer'd.

Ap.

And for thy part Midas, Laugh, sleepe, or flowte, nay snarle, and cavell too; Which none of these heere met I hope will doe.

Exeunt.

ACT. IIII.

SCENE. I.

Enter Vulcan.

Vul.

WIthin there, ho Pirackmon, when you knave? Take in ••donis quiver, and his bow, And hang them up in Venus armory, By Mars his gantlet, and Achilles sword: Ha ha ha, I laugh untill my sides be sore, For joy that my Wives dandiprat is dead; And my now Ciclops lay't on lustily; There's halfe a hundred Thunder-boults bespoake, Which argues that the World is full of sinne; Neptune hath broke his Mace, and Iunos Coach Must bee new mended, and the hind-most wheeles Must have two spoakes 〈◊〉〈◊〉in; 〈◊〉〈◊〉 fore-horse

Must have two new shooes, 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and one remove; Pans Sheepe-hooke must be mended shortly too, Plie it of all hands, wee have much to doe.

I. Ciclop, from within.

Ci.

Master, heere's one of Ceres husband-men Would have a Plough-share, and a Sith new ground.

Vul.

New ground, new halter'd, hee shall stay his t••rne; Wee shall deceive the gods and godesses, For a plow-jogging hinde.

2. Ci.

Heere's Mercury to have his 〈◊〉〈◊〉mended.

Vul.

Hee shall stay.

3, Ci.

Heere 〈◊〉〈◊〉Ganimed, To have his masters hunting-nagge new shod; And Mars his lackie, with a broken gorget.

4. Ci,

And heere's a clowne for hob-nailes.

Vul.

Heere's the devill and all; What would they have me doe? I ••oyle and moyl•• Worse then a mill-horse, scarce have slept a minute This fortnight, and odd dayes; I have not time To sit and eate, but Ile give over all, And liue upon my wife, as others doe; They say shee hath good takings, ere Ile endure it, I will doe any thing; when I was made a Smith, Would I had beene a Bare-ward.

4. Ci.

What shall wee doe first?

Vul.

Why first goe hang your selues: I keepe a douzen Iourney-men at least, Besides my Ciclops and my Prentises,

Of all these evills had assaulted thee; And till my mothers anger bee appeas'd, I dare doe nothing; Yet for our first loves sake, Make me acquainted with thy second taske, And as I may be sure, Ile further it.

Psi.

Let my lipps kisse this earth whereon you treade, In low submission; for her late injunction, Transcends all humane possibillitie: This Violl I must fill at that spring-head, From whence Cocitus flowes, that fearefull streame, Which feedes the river Stix.

Cup.

Be aduis'd by mee, Not farre from Tenerus, whose barren topp Is crown'd with clouds of smoake, there lies a meade, Ore-growne with Osiers, Bryars, and Sicamors, In this Ioves Eagle (on whose duskie wings, Ganimed flew to heaven) obscures himselfe From Iealous Iunoes wrath▪ enquire him out, Tell him thy griefe, and that thou cam'st from mee, From this hard taske hee will deliver thee.

Psi.

Thanks glorious deitie, upon my knees Prest downe with this rich burthen of thy love, I begg that you will mediate 'twixt my errours, And your sterne mothers wrath.

Cup.

Well get the gone, 'Tis I will front her indignation.

Exit. Psiche.

Enter Pan, and Venus.

Pan.

This way he ran with shackles on his heeles,

And said hee would to Vulcan: oh but see Where hee stands cogging with him.

Ven.

Now you run-away, You disobedient, thou unhappy wagg, Where be the golden-fetters I left you bound in?

Cup.

True, for my good behaviour, but you 〈◊〉〈◊〉 My bands are cancell'd, and your sonne 〈◊〉〈◊〉free.

Ven.

Ile whip you for't with 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉in wine.

Cup.

So you'l nettle 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and I must smart for't; But when your owne 〈◊〉〈◊〉burne, and you desire With him, or him, to glut your appetite, Then gentle Cupid, then, my prittie sonne, My love, my deare, my darling, and what not, Till you have had your will.

Ven.

With his 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉, Hee still prevents my anger: but for thee, As crooked in thy manners as thy shape; I thought, great foole, you durst not harbor him.

Vul.

No more I did, 〈◊〉〈◊〉wife.

Cup.

Sweet mother Queene, busse my black 〈◊〉〈◊〉for all that hee hath done. Was love to you, and kindnesse to your sonne.

Vul.

Speake for me Pan, as ere thou hop'st to have Thy broken hoke well mended.

Pan.

When, canst tell? I tell thee, I must first have besides that, A douzen of Branding-jrons to marke my flocke, (The time drawes neere, sheepe-shearing is at hand) Besides, two of my Satirs falling out About a Lambe, one of them burst his horne, It must be tip'd too; thou art well aquainted

With tipping hornes.

Vul.

Ha, hornes, with hornes, how's that?

Pan.

Nay, aske your Wife, I cannot speake of hornes, But still you take the last word to your selfe, For Venus makes, and Vulcan weares, And Vulcan takes, and Venus beares.

Vul.

Vulcan weare hornes?

Ven.

No sweet-heart, you mistake, Pan is the forked god, with hornes was borne, And ever since, his tongue runs of the horne.

Pan.

Speake shall I have my Sheepe-hooke, and those Irons?

Vul.

Yes Pan, you shall, But ye•• those hornes have ••rucke deepe to my heart.

Pan.

Take h••ede they grow not upward to your head, And tipping hornes, your brow••s weare hornes indeede:

Enter Psiche.

But who comes heere? Vulcan is this your wench? T'hadst best looke to him Venus.

Psi.

Like your obedient servant, that layes downe Her life and labour at her Mistris feete, So comes poore Psiche, held betweene the armes Of feare and duty; fear•• dishartning mee, Would pluck me back, but duty being more strong, Bids me goe foreward, bending my weake knee Before the Shrine of sacred Maiestie; Accept my seruice, who to gaine your grace, Would yeeld my selfe to ashie death's imbrace.

Ven.

Is this that water of th' Infernall lake?

Psi.

This is that water, whose infectio••s torrent Runs from Co••itus, into Flegiton, Infernall Stix, and the blacke Ach••ron, Deare goddesse.

Ven.

Art thou not a fawning counterfeit? First I imploy'd thee to divide my graine, A taske impossible for mortall hands, This second as more hard, and yet 'tis done; Thou work'st by sorcery; but no damn'd spell Shall keepe mee from my wrath, thy soule from hell.

Vul.

Venus, sweete mouse, nay prithee doe not chide, Forgive, as I forgive thee.

Ven.

Polt-foote, peace.

Cup.

Sweete Mother, let your ire be mollified, Since for her fault she hah endur'd this paine, Bannish all hate, and make her blest againe.

Ven.

Againe I charge thee not to speake for her: Once more Ile try thee further, since thy heart Is wedded to such hellish sorcery; Hye to Proserpina, the black-brow'd Queene, Ile send thee on my embassie to hell, Tell her that sicknesse, with her ashie hand, Hath swept away the beauty from my cheekes, And I desire her send me some ofhers; Fetch me a box of beauty then from hell, That's thy last labour, urge not a replie, Doe my command and live, refuse, and die.

Cup.

For my sake, my best Mother, pittie her.

Ven.

For thee I hate her, and for her hate thee.

Pan.

Nay gentle Venus, be more mercifull,

For her great-bellies sake.

Ven.

For that alone, Ile hate you all, till shee be fled and gone.

Psi.

Then goe I must, and going, nere returne; Oh Cupid, my inconstancy to thee, Is cause of this my endlesse misery.

Cup.

With-draw thee Psiche till the rest be gone, Anon Ile speake with thee.

Exit. Psiche.

Enter Mercury.

Mer.

Venus, Vulcan, Cupid, and god Pan, I summon you to appeareat Ceres plaine, To entertaine the faire Proserpina, For whom I now am sent, I must to hell About Ioves embassie, Venus farewell.

Exit.

Ven.

Hermes farewell, wee'le mee••e at Ceres plentious Court: Come Cupid, follow mee.

Pan.

Vulcan cannot goe.

Vul.

Yes, but 'tis best to keepe behind a shrew.

Pan.

Then put her in before, on Venus, goe.

Ex. all but Cup.

Cup.

Psiche apro••ch, but doe not come too neere, That pride thou hast already bought too deere.

Enter Psiche.

Psi.

Oh pitty Psiche, shee is sent to hell.

Cup.

It is the sound of hell wakes pitties eye, Else I had left thee to more misery;

My loves not done, though thou art quite undone, Vnlesse I arme thee 'gainst the darts of death, Which hell aimes at thee.

Psi.

Let thy sacred breath—

Cup.

Wound me no more with words, for they but grieve me▪ Now marke what on thy Iourney must relieve thee: First, high thee to the bancks of Acheron, Thou can'st not misse the way, 'tis broad, and worne With trampling of Ten thousand passengers, There shall thou find hells churlish Ferry-man, His name is Charon, ther's to pay his hire, Take heede thou loose it not, for doing so, Hee'le beate, and leave thee on the shore of woe; Being ferried over, thou shalt spie hell gates, Thou need'st not knocke, they are open night and day, Give Cerberus a sop, and passe away.

Psi.

And what's that Cerberus.

Cup.

Porter of hell, Who must at thy returne be b••b'd againe; My great desire to helpe thee, hinders thee, I should have told thee when in Charo••s bardge, Thou art wafting ore the dreadfull waves of S••ix, An aged man, with a pale countenance, His name's Oblivion, swimming in the flood, Will heave his wither'd armes, and cry, helpe, helpe, Save mee from drowning; stretch not forth thy hand, For if thou dost, thou nere return'st to shore, Thou wil't forget my love, see mee no more.

Psi.

Ile stop mine eares against Ob••rvious cry.

Cup.

Being landed, thou shalt see old wrinkled haggs,

Spinning black threds, whil'st folly reeles them up; Hee will let fall his reele, and pray the•• reach it, But stoope not; they will likewise beckon thee To sit downe by them; but to spinne a thread Take heede, doing so, from mee thou art banished.

Psi.

Ile shun their baltes.

Cup.

Being enter'd Plutoes Court, They all will tice thee with a thousand traines, Shun all, and neither sit, nor eate with them, Onely deliver what thou art enioyn'd, Receive the boxe of beauty and be gon, Which still keepe shut, let not thy daring eye Behold the wealth that in the boxe doth lie.

Psi.

Dread Cupid—

Cup.

Now fare-well, had'st thou but obay'd mee, Thy face had still bin lovely, and mine eye Doated on thee with heavenly Iealousie.

Exeunt.

Enter Clowne and Swaines.

1. Swa.

And what dost thou thinke of Cupid now?

Clo.

Doe not thinke I am so stupid, But to thinke well of great god Cupid.

2. Swai.

And what of Poets.

Clo.

As Poets, as of Potentates, for since I plaid the last prize against Phoebus, in which I may say of my selfe, veni, vidi vici; I have beene so troubled with a Poeticall itch, that I can scratch you out Rimes, and Ballats, Songs, and Sonnetts, Oades, and Madrigalls, till they bleede againe.

1. Swai.

Then thou art reconcil'd to Homer.

Clo.

Homer was Honourable, Hesiod Herolcall, Virgil a Vice∣gerent, Naso Notorious, Martiall a Provost, Iuvinall a Ioviall lad, and Persius a Paramount; what doc I thinke of Poetry? of which my selfe am a profest member.

2. Swai.

And may be very well spar'd, and yet the body ne∣ver the worse, but thou may'st see what becoms of rayling a∣gainst Cupid, what a sweete Mistris hee hath put upon thee?

Clo.

Who, my Amarillis.

1. Swai.

Yes, the veriest dowdy in all Arcadia, even Mopsa compar'd with her, shewes like a Madam; first she's old—

Clo.

It was very well said, to say first, because shee was before us, and for being old, is not age reverend? and therefore in mine eyes shee's honourable.

1. Swai.

And wrinkled.

Clo.

Is't not the fashion; doe not our Gentiles weare their haire crisped, the Nimphs their gownes pleated, and the Fawns their stockings, for the more grace, wrinckled; doth not the earth shew well when 'tis plowed, and the land best when it lies in furrwes.

1. Swai.

Besides, shee hath a horrible long nose.

Clo.

That's to defend her lipps, but thou sinner to sence, and renegade to reason, dost thou blame length in any thing? dost thou not wish thy life long, and know'st thou not that Trueth comes out at length; When all our joyes are gone and past, doth not Long look'd for, come at last; If any of our Nimphs be wrong'd, will shee not say, 'tis Long of mee, 'tis Long of thee, or Long of him; If they buy any commodity by the yard, doe they not wish it long; your Advocate wishes to have a law suite hang Long; And the poore client, bee his cloake never so short, and thread-bare, yet would be glad to weare it longer.

No married man, but doth his wife much wrong,

Tho' hee himselfe be short, to have nothing long.

2. Swa.

The short and the long o••t is, shee's an ugly crea∣ture, make of her what thou can'st.

Clo.

Make of her what I can; oh that all, or any of you could li••e mee, looke upon her with the eyes of Poetry, I would then let you know what I have made of her.

1. Swa.

Prithee let's hear't.

Clow.

Then listen hither, oh you Imps of ignorance;

Oh tell mee, have you ever seene, Since you were borne unto this day, Which is long since, a wit so greene, And cover'd with a head so gray.

To praise her still, my Muses will is, Although therein I have no cunning, Yet is the nose of Amarillis Like to a Cock, long, and still running.

Her eyes, though dimme, to seeme cleere, And they of Rheume can well dispose, The one doth blinke, the other bleare, In Pearle-drops striving with her nose.

Her brest are like two beds of blisse, Or rather like two leane-cowes udders, Which shewes that shee no Change ling is, Because they say, such were her mothers.

Those few teeth left her in her head, Now stand like hedge-stakes in her gumms, Full of white Dandriff is her head, Shee puts the Cobler downe for thumbs.

Her sides be long, her belly lanke, And of her leggs what should I say, But that shee feeles well in the stanke, And both her feete, themselues display.

1. Swai.

All the Homers in Asia could never have come so neere the businesse.

Clo.

From head to foote, for her stature and yeeres, pattorne h••r in all Arcadia; say shee bee a foule beast in your eyes, yet shee is my Hyren; and shewing foule to others, and faire to mee, I shall live the happier, and shee the honester, but I have a remedy against all this in spight of Cupid.

2. Swai.

What's that?

Clo.

I heare Psiche his Mistris, is sent to hell for a boxe of beauty, 'tis but way-laying of her, and taking it from her, then Amarillis shall compare with any other she that dare.

Excunt.

Enter Midas and Apulejus.

Mi.

This last I lik'd, and had it all beene such, Onely a meere discourse 'twixt swaines and clownes, It then had pleas'd mee; now some quaint device, Some kick-shaw or other to keepe me waking.

Ap.

Then by the leave of these spectators heere, Ile suite mee to thy low capacitie;

Letting him know, this day Latonas Sonne Enters the first house of his Zodiake, And with his guilt beames welcomes in the Spring; This day the Virgins of Sicilia, Old Wives, young Children, Souldiers, Citizens, Princes and Prelates, on Cissephus bancks, Are gathered in well-order'd multitudes, Dancing in Chorusses, singing mirth-full layes, Such as Iambe, Megamiraes maid, Sung, when she mourn'd her Daughters ravishment: This day hath Ceres call'd a Sessions, Where Proserpine must bee; but ere shee leave The black Imperiall Throne of this low world, Pische the Daughter to th' Arcadian King, Must doe a message to her deitie.

Pros.

Wee know th' Intent of that great influence, With all the purpose of the Paphian Queene, Shee meanes prowd Psiche never shall returne, And wee will keepe her; Charon fetch her ore.

Cha.

Shee's come already.

Mino.

Then conduct her in.

Cha.

Hell's full enough of shrewes; if shee be faire, I know shee's curst, pray let her tarry there, A curst queanes tongue, the very feinds still feare.

Plu.

Fetch her I say, Venus shall be reveng'd.

Eac.

Goe Charo••, waite upon him Cerberus.

Mino.

If shee performe the customes of our Court, Being sent on message from supernall powers, Wee can then with no justice keepe her heere.

Rha.

True Minos, 'tis the law of hell and Fate;

Yet Cerberus and Charon, get you gone, Tell Psiche that hells King, and Proserpine, With Minos bench'd, Eacus and Rad••mant, Vpon their black Tribunalls, sends for her; You Furies with your ••nuious eyes attend, Least Psiche 'gainst our ••ustomes shall offend.

Cha.

Come Cerberus, come haggs, fetch Psiche in.

Cer.

Yes, and for all her staynes, and leaprosie, Me-thinks I now could eate her.

Exit.

Mer.

Psiche is well instructed Rhadamant, Her husband Cupid gave her certaine rules, For her uncertaine journey.

Enter Charon, Cerberus, and Psiche.

All.

Heere shee comes.

Cer.

My sop, hast thou thy naulum Ferry-man?

Cha.

I have.

Plu.

Psiche stand foorth, nay poore soule, tremble not.

Minos.

How came this woman over Acheron? Reach'd shee not hand to helpe Oblivion?

Cha.

No, yet the wretch made many a pittious cry, Yet shee look'd on him with a scornefull eye.

Eac.

How did shee passe the haggs, that spunne the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Of Idle-folly, in the path of hell?

Cha.

They all desir'd her helpe, but shee deny'd To set a finger unto follies thred.

Plu.

Shee hath done well, why kneel'st thou on the ground?

Psi.

I kneele to Proserpine, for I am sent By sacred Venus for a boxe of beautie.

At her returne from hell it should be done.

Plut.

Heere Hermes, take my Queene Proserpina, Returne her when the sister of the Sunne Hath sixe times compassed her siluer spheare; Commend me to my mother, great Ioves wife, My sister Pallas, and to all the gods, So fare-well Plutoes joy, all hell shall mourne With hiddious cries, till my faire love returne.

Exeunt.

Hiddeous musicke.

Enter Cupid.

Cup.

Many a long looke have my watchfull eyes Sent out to meet with Psiche, heere shee comes,

Enter Psihce.

And in her hand the boxe, Cupid stand close, And over-heare the summe of her discourse.

Enter Clowne.

Clo.

This is shee, I know her by her marter'd face; Venus did well to send her for beauty, for poore soule, she hath neede on't, I have dogg'd her, to see if I could find her at any aduantage, to steale away her boxe; I have already got love from Cupid; I have got Poetrie from Apollo, and if I could now get beauty from Psiche, Phaon the faire Ferry-man, was never so famous in Sicillia, as I Coridon shall be in Arcadia.

Psi.

You trayterous thoughts, no more assault me thus, My lovely Cupid charg'd me not to see What Proserpine sent Venus in this boxe, The like command did hells Queene lay on mee, Oh heaven, yet I shall die except I doe't.

Cup.

I Psiche, what still in your longing 〈◊〉〈◊〉?

Clo.

That's it, nay I shall know't, if I 〈◊〉〈◊〉't againe.

Psi.

It's beautie Psiche, and 〈◊〉〈◊〉, And thou art ugly, this will make thee shine, And change this ea••thy forme to shape divine; Open it boldly, but I shall offend, Why say I doe, 'tis but the breach of 〈◊〉〈◊〉, And who'le not venture to get ••eavenly beautie, Rich beautie, ever fresh, never decaying, Which lies intombed in this heavenly shrine; Nor in this bold attempt thinke ••ee prophane, Striving thus spotted, to be free from 〈◊〉〈◊〉.

Shee 〈◊〉〈◊〉the 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and falls asleepe.

Clo.

Nay I thought I should take you ••apping, And thou shalt goe with mee; for 'tis my duty,

Takes up the Boxe.

My Mistris being a blowse, to find her bea••tie.

Cupid charm••s him asleepe.

Cup.

To make thee lovely in thy Mistris eyes, Make use of that, and boast of thy rich prize.

Cupid layes a counterfeit 〈◊〉〈◊〉by him.

But foolish girle; alas why blame I th••e, When all thy Sex is guilty of like pride, And ever was? but where's this beau••y now? Turn'd into slumbers, and like watery pearles Of honey-tasting dew hangs on 〈◊〉〈◊〉lids: Shee wakes againe; I have swept off the slumber That hung so heavy on 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉, Which 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉in, the 〈◊〉〈◊〉of all true 〈◊〉〈◊〉▪

Psi.

Where am I now? Dread Cupid 〈◊〉〈◊〉mee.

Cup.

Come rise, and wipe away these fruitlesse teares;

2. Swai.

Like thee, Ide rather see thee hang'd; dost thou think wee meane to weare Vizors.

Clo.

This 'tis to be 〈◊〉〈◊〉mortalls, and have noe addition of learning or travell; their dull eyes cannot judge of Caelestiall beautie: but where's my 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and the god of marriage Hymen?

1. Swai.

They both stay for thee in Venus Temple; but I hope thou wilt not be married to her in this pickle?

Clo.

Will I not, yes, and dazell all their eyes that shall looke on mee, especially my 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and shee must needs have some part of my theft, all is not gone, somthing for her is left:

Leade on, leade on, this day you shall be my men, And thus in pompe will wee goe meete with Hymen: And Dick••n, if anon thou wilt be sinfull To drinke with mee, I will give thee thy skin-full: If any heere, I speake it out of dutie, 〈◊〉〈◊〉Complection from my boxe of beautie, This might I am busie, let him come to morrow, They shall have store, if they will buy, or borrow.

Exeunt.

Enter Phoebus, Pan, Vulcan, Venus, Admetus, Astioche, Pctrea, Menetius, and Zelotes.

Ven.

By this I know, that Minks is come from hell, And heere she harbours; but Arcadian King▪ Deliver 〈◊〉〈◊〉, or by our dreadfull frowne, Ile spoi•• thy Courts, and cast thy Temples downe; 〈◊〉〈◊〉her longer, not the gods 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Shall guard her from the death, my rage intends.

Ad▪

Dread Qu••ne of 〈◊〉〈◊〉, shee remaines not heere,

Nor thinke that I abet her, though my child, Against your wrath, or power; Nay, did she ••journe In any place where I have free command, Ide cause her to be fetch't thence instantly, And as your slave and vassaile tender her.

Ven.

If she be safe return•• from 〈◊〉〈◊〉, Shee must be pardon'd, and become devine, But to conceale her beeing, and keepe backe Her present sight, aymes at her future wrack.

Apol.

If ever in faire Venus I had power, Or grac'd her summer 〈◊〉〈◊〉with my 〈◊〉〈◊〉, At length with a commisserating eye, Looke on distressed Psiche.

Vul.

Doe good wife, Vse her with all the favour thou can'st thinke, Conive at her, as I at thy faults winke.

Pan.

And Pan protests by 〈◊〉〈◊〉 〈◊〉〈◊〉browne 〈◊〉〈◊〉 The fairest Nimph, since 〈◊〉〈◊〉, 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 Be friends with her, my 〈◊〉〈◊〉 all shall play, And I with them make this a holy-day.

Enter Mercury and Proserpine.

Mer.

To all these gods, to Venus, and this 〈◊〉〈◊〉, Health from the Sonne of Saturne, and Q••eene Ceres.

Ven.

Welcome, what would the messenger of ••ove To us, or these?

Mer.

Pan, Vulcan, and your selfe, With Phoebus, and the great Arcadian King,

Must bee this day at Ceres sowing-feast, Vnto which Annuall meeting, see faire Proserpine Is come from Plutoes Court.

Ven.

Welcome faire Queene.

Apol.

Welcome faire sister, from the vaults below, Wee two are Twins, of 〈◊〉〈◊〉Latona borne, And were together 〈◊〉〈◊〉in 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Ile; You guide the night, as I direct the day, Darkenesse and light, betwixt us wee devide, Nor square, but in our mutuall Orbes agree, Vnlesse you move just 'twixt the earth and mee, For then you eclispe my lusture.

Vul.

Cousen Queene, I am even moone-sicke, and halfe merry mad, For joy of thy arivall.

Pan.

By our Crests Wee should bee cousens, for wee both are horn'd, And 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of our ki•• too; but swee••e goddesse, Now I bethinke me of th' Arcadian Nimphes, I am bound to thee for many a pretty sight, And much good sport I have had by thy moone-light.

Pros.

To give you meeting, I am come from hell.

Ven.

Saw you not Psiche there?

Pros.

Lov••s Queene I did, Hither shee comes with Cupid, hand in hand, Her leprosie, through labour, is made cleere, And beautions in your eye, shee'le now appeare,

Enter Cupid and Psiche.

Cup.

Celaestiall Sea-borne Queene, I heere present you

My Psiche, who hath satisfi'd your will: Deliver her, Faire Love, from Proserpine, The boxe of beautie, endlesse, and devine.

Psi.

Gvided by Love, Lord of my life and hope, I come undaunted to your gratious sight, Hoping my sufferance hath out-worne his wrath?

Ven.

Shee hath scap'd hell, and now the taske is done, And I still crost by a disobedient Sonne; But tell mee how this Leoper came thus faire?

Cup.

At my entreate it was, 'Mongst all the gods I claym'd her for my Wife, Who taking a joynt pitty of her wrongs, Gave their consent, and then Great ••ove himselfe Call'd for a cup of Immortallitie, Dranke part to her, and Psiche qua••t't the rest, At which, deformitie forsooke her quite, And shee made faire, and then proclaym'd my bride, Iove vowing, she•• should now be 〈◊〉〈◊〉.

Ven.

I see I cannot conquer Destinie, By Fate shee first was thine, I give her thee.

Mer.

Now Psiche, you must see your sisters judg'd, Vnstaid Petrea, and unkind 〈◊〉〈◊〉, Admetus, you must be their sentencer.

Asti.

Husband, your knees.

Petr.

My deare Lord pleade for us.

Asti.

Wil•• neither; yet Father.

Ad.

Wretches peace, Psiche by you was torne from her del••ght, A••d rudely rent from Cupids Paradice; 'Twas you that robb'd her of a Fathers love;

By your alurements she was sent to hell, And had not divine ayde 〈◊〉〈◊〉her thence, Poore soule for ever sh ▪had ••in there detain'd, For which, to endlesse durance I adjudge you; For merrits siluer gates are alwayes barr'd To hearts Impenitent, and willfull hard.

Psi.

Have pitty on them Father, gentle husband, Remember not their fraw'd in tempting mee: You gods, and goddesses, with Psiche joyne To begg their pardons, all you Arcadians kneele; For had they not my happinesse enuy'd, My Love and Patience had not so bin try'd.

All.

Wee all will mediate for them.

Ad.

Then Daughters, give your sis••er Psiche thanks, And to her vertues be a 〈◊〉〈◊〉still, As having made atonement for your ill.

Both.

Wee'le hence-forth be her hand-maids.

Ven.

They shall attend her unto Plenties bower, Where Ceres, Queene of all Fertility, Inuites us with the other gods to feast.

Mer.

There Iove and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 shall leade Cupids Queene, To the bright Pallace of Eternitie; Bacchus shall give us Wine, and Ganimed Shall crowne our full cupps with the grapes pure blood; Ceres shall yeeld us all earth's delicates, The Graces shall bring Balme▪ the Muses sing In Cupids honour, Loves Immortall King.

Vul.

Vulcan will dance, and sing, and skip, and 〈◊〉〈◊〉, And with his smoakie jeasts make 〈◊〉〈◊〉 laugh.

Cup.

Such as love mee, make mee their president,

See, thus I take faire Psiche by the hand, Mercury doe you the like to Proserpine, My Mother Venus cannot want a mate; In honour of our marriage, match your selves, And with a measure grace our nuptialls, But such as doe not love to bee in motion, view as 〈◊〉〈◊〉, how our joy appeares, Dancing to the sweete music ••e of the spheares.

A Dance of Cupid, Psiche, the gods and godesses.

Apol.

Now circle Psiche in a fayrie ring, Whil'st I and Venus grace her with this Crowne; This done, to feast with C••res, and the gods And next unto the Pallace of the Sunne, To end those sacred writes wee have begun.

Enter Midas and Apulejus.

Mi.

Is this your morrall? This your Poetrie? What hast thou done, what spoake, what represented, Which I with all these cannot justly taxe?

Ap.

Yes, all like thee th' obtuse and stupid mindes, But there's an understanding that hath depth Beyond thy shallow non-sence; there's a witt, A braine which thou want'st, I to that submit.

Mi.

And ever in that thou fool'st thy selfe.

Cup.

Nay then, I by the favour of these Gentlemen, Will arbitrate this strife; one seekes to aduance

His Art, the other stands for igno••ance; Both hope, and both shall have their merrits full, Heere's meede for either, both the apt, and dull, Pleas'd or displeas'd, this censure I allow; Keepe thou the Asses eares▪ the Lawrell thou: If you, judicious, this my doome commend, Psiche by you shall doubly Crown'd ascend; And then this Legacie I leave behind, Where ere you love, prove of one faith, one mind. The Spring comes on, and Cupid doth devine, Each shall enjoy his best lou'd Valentine, Which when you have, may you like us agree, And at your best retirements thinke on mee.

FINIS.