The vvorkes of Beniamin Ionson. The second volume.: Containing these playes, viz. 1 Bartholomew Fayre. 2 The staple of newes. 3 The Divell is an asse

ACT I. SCENE V.

Robin-hood. Clarion. Mellifleur. Lionel. Amie. Alken. Karolin. Aeglamour, sitting upon a banke by.

Cla.

See where hee sits.

Aeg.

It will be rare, rare, rare! An exquisite revenge: but peace, no words! Not for the fairest fleece of all the Flock; If it be knowne afore, 'tis all worth nothing! Ile carve it on the trees, and in the turfe, On every greene sworth, and in every path, Just to the Margin of the cruell Trent; There will I knock the story in the ground, In smooth great peble, and mosse fill it round, Till the whole Countrey read how she was drown'd, And with the plenty of salt teares thereshed, Quite alter the complexion of the Spring. Or I will get some old, old Grandam, thither, Whose rigid foot but dip'd into the water, Shall strike that sharpe and suddaine cold, throughout,

As it shall loose all vertue; and those Nimphs, Those treacherous Nimphs pull'd in Earine; Shall stand curl'd up, like Images of Ice; And never thaw! marke, never! a sharpe Justice: Or stay, a better! when the yeares at hottest, And that the Dog-starre fomes, and the streames boiles, And curles, and workes, and swells ready to sparkle: To fling a fellow with a Fever in, To set it all on fire, till it burne, Blew as Scamander, 'fore the walls of Troy; When Vulcan leap'd in to him, to consume him.

Rob.

A deepe hurt Phant'sie.

Aeg.

Doe you not approve it?

Rob.

Yes gentle Aeglamour, wee all approve, And come to gratulate your just revenge: Which since it is so perfect, we now hope, You'l leave all care thereof, and mixe with us, In all the profer'd solace of the Spring.

Aeg.

A Spring, now she is dead: of what, of thornes? Briars, and Brambles? Thistles? Burs, and Dorks? Cold Hemlock? Yewgh? the Mandrake, or the Boxe? These may grow still; but what can spring beside? Did not the whole Earth sicken, when she died? As if there since did fall one drop of dew, But what was wept for her! or any stalke Did beare a Flower! or any branch a bloome; After her wreath was made: In faith, in faith You doe not faire, to put these things upon me. Which can in no sort be: Earine, Who had her very being, and her name, With the first knots, or buddings of the Spring, Borne with the Prim rose, and the Violet, Or earliest Roses blowne: when Cupid smil'd, And Venus led the Graces out to dance, And all the Flowers, and Sweets in Natures lap, Leap'd out and made their solemne Conjuration, To last, but while shee liv'd: Doe not I know, How the Vale wither'd the same Day? How Dove, Deane, Eye, and Erwash, Idell, Snite, and Soare, Each broke his Vrne, and twenty waters more, That swell'd proud Trent, shrunke themselves dry; that since, No Sun, or Moone, or other cheerfull Starre Look'd out of heaven! but all the Cope was darke, As it were hung so for her Exequies! And not a voice or sound, to ring her knell: But of that dismall paire, the scritching Owle; And buzzing Hornet! harke, harke, harke the foule Bird! how shee flutters with her wicker wings! Peace you shall heare her scritch.

Cla.

Good Karolin sing, Helpe to divert this Phant'sie.

Kar.

All I can.

Though I am young, and cannot tell,

The Song. Which while Karolin sings, Aegl••mou•• reades

Either what Death, or Love is well, Yet I have heard, they both beare darts, And both doe ayme at humane hearts: And then againe, I have beene told Love wounds with heart, as Death with cold; So that I feare, they doe but bring Extreames to touch, and meane one thing.

As in a ruine, we it call One thing to be blowne up, or fall; Or to our end, like way may have, By a flash of lightning, or a wave: So Loves inflamed shaft, or brand, May kill as soone as Deaths cold hand; Except Loves fires the vertue have To fright the frost out of the grave.

Aeg.

Doe you thinke so? are you in that good heresie? I meane opinion? If you be, say nothing: I'll study it, as a new Philosophy, But by my selfe alone: Now you shall leave me I Some of these Nimphs, here will reward you; this This pretty Maid, although but with a kisse,

Hee forces Amie to kisse him.

Liv'd my Earine, you should have twenty: For every line here, one I would allow 'hem From mine owne store, the treasure I had in her: Now I am poore as you.

Kar.

And I a wretch!

Cla.

Yet keepe an eye upon him, Karoline.

Mel.

Alas that ever such a generous spirit,

Aeglamour goes out, and Karolin fol∣lowes him.

As Aeglamours, should sinke by such a losse.

Cla.

The truest Lovers are least fortunate, Lookes all their Lives, and Legends; what they call The Lovers Scriptures: Heliodores, or Tatij! Longi! Eustathij! Prodomi! you'l find it! What thinke you Father?

Alk.

I have knowne some few, And read of more; wh'have had their dose, and deepe, Of these sharpe bitter-sweets.

Lio.

But what is this To jolly Robin? who the Story is, Of all beatitude in Love?

Cla.

And told Here every day, with wonder on the world.

Lio.

And with fames voice.

Alk.

Save that some folke delight To blend all good of others, with some spight.

Cla.

Hee, and his Marian, are the Summe and Talke Of all, that breath here in the Greene-wood Walke.

Mel.

Or Be'voir Vale?

Kar.

The Turtles of the Wood.

Cla.

The billing Paire.

Alk.

And so are understood For simple loves, and sampled lives beside.

Mel.

Faith, so much vertue should not be envi'd.

Alk.

Better be so, then pittied Mellifleur! For' gainst all envy, vertue is a cure; But wretched pitty ever cals on scornes. The Deeres brought home: I heare it by their hornes.