Here's crystal, coral, bugle, jet, in beads,
Cornelian bracelets, for my dainty maids:"
Then perriwigs and searcloth gloves doth show,
To make their hands as white as swan or snow;
Then takes she forth a curious gilded box,
Which was not open'd but by double locks,
Takes them aside, and doth a paper spread,
In which was painting both for white and red;
And next a piece of silk, wherein there lies
For the decay'd, false breasts, false teeth, false eyes:
And all the while she's opening of her pack,
Cupid, with's wings bound close down to his back,
Playing the tumbler, on a table gets,
And shows the ladies many pretty feats.
I seeing behind him that he had such things,
For well I knew no boy but he had wings,
I view'd his mother's beauty, which to me
Less than a goddess said she could not be:
With that, quoth I to her, "The other day,
As you do now, so one that came this way,
Show'd me a neat piece, with the needle wrought,
How Mars and Venus were together caught
By polt-foot Vulcan in an iron net;
It griev'd me after that I chanc'd to let
It go from me;" whereat waxing red,
Into her hamper she hung down her head,
As she had stoop'd some novelty to seek,
But 'twas indeed to hide her blushing cheek:
When she her trinkets trusseth up anon,
Ere we were 'ware, and instantly was gone.

FLOR. But hark you, nymphs, amongst our idle
'Tis current news through the Elysian state, [prate,
That Venus and her sou were lately seen
Here in Elysium, whence they oft have been
Banish'd by our edict, and yet still merry
Were here in public row'd o'er at the ferry,
Where, as 'tis said, the ferryman and she
Had much discourse, she was so full of glee,
Codrus much wond'ring at the blind boy's bow.
NAIIS. And what it was, that easily you may know,
Codrus himself comes rowing here at hand.
LELIPA.Codrus, come hither, let your wherry stand,
I hope upon you ye will take no state,
Because two gods have grac'd your boat of late;
Good ferryman, I pray thee let us hear

What talk they had, aboard thee whilst they were.

CODRUS. Why thus, fair nymphs,

As I a fare bad lately past,
And thought that side to ply,
I heard one, as it were in haste,
"A boat, a boat," to ery;
Which as I was about to bring,
And came to view my fraught,

Thought 1, "What more than heavenly thing
Hath fortune hither brought!"

She seeing mine eyes still on her were,
Soon, smilingly, quoth she,

"Sirrah! look to your rudder there,

Why look'st thou thus at me?"

And nimbly stepp'd into my boat,
With her a little lad

Naked and blind, yet did I note,
That bow and shafts he had,

And two wings to his shoulders fixt,
Which stood like little sails,

With far more various colours mixt
Than be your peacocks' tails:

I seeing this little dapper elf
Such arms as these to bear,
Quoth I, thus softly to myself,
"What strange thing have we bere?
I never saw the like," thought I,
""Tis more than strange to me,
To have a child have wings to fly,
And yet want eyes to see;
Sure this is some devised toy,
Or it transform'd hath been,
For such a thing, half bird, half boy,
I think was never seen :"

And in my boat I turn'd about,
And wistly view'd the lad,

And clearly saw his eyes were out,
Though bow and shafts he had.
As wistly she did me behold,

"How lik'st thou him?" quoth she.

Why well," quoth I, "and better should, Had he but eyes to see."

"How say'st thou? honest friend," quoth she,

"Wilt thou a 'prentice take?

I think, in time, though blind he be,
A ferryman he'll make."

"To guide my passage boat," quoth I,
"His fine bands were not made,
He hath been bred too wantonly
To undertake my trade."

Why help him to a master then;"
Quoth she, "such youths be scant,
It cannot be but there be men
That such a boy do want."

Quoth 1, "When you your best have done,
No better way you'll find,

Than to a harper bind your son,
Since most of them are blind."
The lovely mother, and the boy,
Laugh'd heartily thereat,
As at some nimble jest or toy,
To hear my homely chat.
Quoth I, I pray you let me know,
Came he thus first to light,
or by some sickness, hurt, or blow,
Deprived of his sight?"

"Nay, sure," quoth she, "he thus was born."

""Tis strange! born blind!" quoth I; "I fear you put this as a scorn

On my simplicity."

Quoth she, "Thus blind I did him bear."
Quoth I, "If 't be no lie,

Then he's the first blind man I'll swear,

E'er practis'd archery."

"A man!" quoth she, "nay there you miss,
He's still a boy as now,
Nor to be elder than he is
The gods will bim allow."
"To be no elder than he is!
Then sure he is some sprite,"
I strait reply'd. Again at this
The goddess laugh'd outright.
"It is a mystery to me,
An archer, and yet blind!"
Quoth I again, "How can it be,
That he his mark should find???

"The gods," quoth she, "whose will it was
That he should want his sight,
That he in something should surpass,

To recompense their spite,

Gave him this gift, though at his game
He still shot in the dark,

That he should have so certain aim,
As not to miss his mark."

By this time we were come ashore,
When me my fare she pay'd,
But not a word she utter'd more,
Nor had I her bewray'd.
Of Venus nor of Cupid I
Before did never hear,
But that a fisher coining by
Then told me who they were.

FLORIMEL. Well; against them then proceed

As before we have decreed,

That the goddess, and her child,
Be for ever hence exil'd,

Which, Lelipa, you shall proclaim
In our wise Apollo's name.

LELIFA. To all th' Elysian nymphish nation,
Thus we make our proclamation,
Against Venus and her son

For the mischiefs they have done :
After the next last of May,
The fix'd and peremptory day,
If she or Cupid shall be found
Upon our Elysian ground,

Our edict mere rogues shall make them,
And as such, whoe'er shall take them,
Them shall into prison put;
Cupid's wings shall then be cut,
His bow broken, and his arrows
Given to boys to shoot at sparrows,
And this vagabond be sent,
Having had due punishment,

To mount Cytheron, which first fed him,

Where his wanton mother bred him,
And there out of her protection,
Daily to receive correction;
Then her passport shall be made,
And to Cyprus isle convey'd,
And at Paphos in her shrine,
Where she hath been held divine.
For her offences found contrite,
There to live an anchorite.

THE EIGHTH NYMPHAL

MERTILLA, CLAIA, CLORIS.

A nymph is married to a fay,
Great preparations for the day;
All rites of nuptials they recite you,
To the bridal and invite you.

MERTILLA. BUT will our Tita wed this fay?
CLAIA. Yea, and to-morrow is the day.
MERTILLA. But why should she bestow herself
Upon this dwarfish fairy elf?

CLAIA. Why by her smallness you may find, That she is of the fairy kind,

And therefore apt to choose her make
Whence she did her beginning take:
Besides, he's deft and wond'rous airy,
And of the noblest of the fairy,
Chief of the crickets of much fame,
In Fairy a most ancient name.

But to be brief, 'tis clearly done,
The pretty wench is woo'd and won:

CLORTS. If this be so, let us provide
The ornaments to fit our bride;
For they knowing she doth come
From us in Elysium,

Queen Mab will look she should be drest

In those attires we think our best;
Therefore some curious things let's give her,
Ere to her spouse we her deliver.

MERTILLA. I'll have a jewel for her ear,
(Which for my sake I'll have her wear)
'T shall be a dewdrop, and therein
Of Cupids 1 will have a twin,

Which struggling, with their wings shall break
The bubble, out of which shall leak

So sweet a liquor, as shall move
Each thing that smells, to be in love.

CLATA. Believe me, girl, this will be fine,
And to this pendent, then take mine;
A cup in fashion of a fly,

Of the lynx's piercing eye,
Wherein there sticks a sunny ray,
Shot in through the clearest day,
Whose brightness Venus' self did move,
Therein to put her drink of love,
Which for more strength she did distil,
The limbec was a phenix' quill;

At this cup's delicious brink,

A fly approaching but to drink,
Like amber, or some precious gum,

It transparent doth become.

CLORIS. For jewels for her ears she's sped; But for a dressing for her head

I think for her I have a tyre,

That all fairies shall admire:
The yellows in the full-blown rose,
Which in the top it doth enclose,
Like drops of gold ore shall be hung
Upon her tresses, and among
Those scatter'd seeds (the eye to please)
The wings of the cantharides:
With some o' th' rainbow that doth rail
Those moons in, in the peacock's tail:
Whose dainty colours being mix'd
With th' other beauties, and so fix'd,
Her lovely tresses shall appear

As though upon a flame they were.
And to be sure she shall be gay,

We'll take those feathers from the jay;
About her eyes in circlets set,

To be our Tita's coronet.

MERTILLA. Then, dainty girls, I make no doubt, But we shall neatly send her out: But let's amongst ourselves agree,

Of what her wedding gown shall be.

CLAIA. Of pansey, pink, and primrose leaves, Most curiously laid on in threaves: And all embroidery to supply, Powder'd with flowers of rosemary: A trail about the skirt shall run, The silk-worm's fiuest, newly spun; And every seam the nymphs shall sew With th' smallest of the spinner's clue: And having done their work, again These to the church shall bear her trains

Which for our Tita we will make

Of the cast slough of a snake,
Which quivering as the wind doth blow,
The Sun shall it like tinsel show.

CLORIS. And being led to meet her mate,
To make sure that she want no state,
Moons from the peacock's tail we'll shred,
With feathers from the pheasant's head:
Mix'd with the plume of (so high price)
The precious bird of paradise.

Which to make up our nymphs shall ply
Into a curious canopy,

Borne o'er her head (by our inquiry)
By elfs, the fittest of the fairy.

MERTILLA. But all this while we have forgot
Her buskins, neighbours, have we not?

CLAIA. We had, for those I'll fit her now,
They shall be of the lady-cow:
The dainty shell upon her back

Of crimson strew'd with spots of black;
Which as she holds a stately pace,
Her leg will wonderfully grace.

CLORIS. But then for music of the best,
This must be thought on for the feast.

MERTILLA. The nightingale of birds most choice

To do her best shall strain her voice;
And to this bird to make a set,
The mavis, merl, and robinet:

The lark, the linnet, and the thrush,
That make a choir of every bush.
But for still music, we will keep

The wren, and titmouse, which to sleep
Shall sing the bride, when she's alone,
The rest into their chambers gone.
And like those upon ropes that walk
On gossimer, from stalk to stalk,
The tripping fairy tricks shall play
The evening of the wedding day.

CLAIA. But for the bride-bed, what were fit,
That hath not yet been talk'd of yet.

CLORIS. Of leaves of roses white and red,
Shall be the covering of her bed:
The curtains, vallens, tester, all,
Shall be the flower imperial:

And for the fringe, it all along

With azure harebells shall be hung:

Of lilies shall the pillows be,

With down stuft of the butter-fly.

MERTILLA. Thus far we handsomely have gone, Now for our prothalamion,

Or marriage song, of all the rest,

A thing that much must grace our feast.
Let us practise then to sing it

Ere we before th' assembly bring it;
We in dialogue must do it,
Then my dainty girls set to it.

CLAIA. This day must Tita married be,
Come, nymphs, this nuptial let us see.
MERTILLA. But is it certain that ye say?
Will she wed the noble fay?

CLORIS. Sprinkle the dainty flowers with dews, Such as the gods at banquets use: Let herbs and weeds turn all to roses, And make proud the posts with posies:

THE NYMPHS. No gem from rocks, seas, running streams,

(Their numbers let us muster)

But hath from thy most perfect beams

The virtue and the lustre.

The diamond, the king of gems,

The first is to be placed,

That glory is of diadems,

Them gracing, by them graced:

In whom thy power the most is seen,
The raging fire refelling.

The emerald then, most deeply green,
For beauty most excelling,
Resisting poison often prov'd
By those about that wear it.

The cheerful ruby then, much lov'd,
That doth revive the spirit,

Whose kind to large extensure grown
The colour so enflamed,

Is that admired mighty stone
The carbuncle that's named,
Which from it such a flaming light
And radiancy ejecteth,

That in the very darkest night
The eye to it directeth.

The yellow jacynth, strength'ning sense,
Of which who hath the keeping,
No thunder hurts not pestilence,
And much provoketh sleeping.
The chrysolite that doth resist
Thirst, proved never-failing:
The purple-colour'd amethyst,
'Gainst strength of wine prevailing:
The verdant gay green smaragdus,
Most sov'reign over passion:
The sardonyx, approv'd by us
To master incantation.

Then that celestial colour'd stone
The sapphire, heavenly wholly,

Which worn, there weariness is none,
And cureth melancholy:

The lazulus whose pleasant blue
With golden veins is graced;
The jaspis of so various hue,
Amongst our other placed.

The onyx from the ancients brought,
Of wondrous estimation,

Shall in amongst the rest be wrought
Our sacred shrine to fashion!
The topaz we'll stick here and there,
And sea-green colour'd beryl,
And turkesse, which who haps to bear
Is often kept from peril.
The selenite, of Cynthia's light
So nam'd, with her still ranging,
Which as she wanes or waxeth bright
Its colours so are changing.
With opals more than any one
We'll deck thine altar fuller,
For that of every precious stone
It doth retain some colour:
With bunches of pearl paragon
Thine altar underpropping,
Whose base is the cornelian,
Strong bleeding often stopping:
With th' agate very oft that is
Cut strangely in the quarry,
As nature meant to show in this,
How she herself can vary :

VOL. IV.

With worlds of gems from mines and seas
Elysium well might store us,

But we content ourselves with these
That readiest lie before us.

And thus, O Phoebus! most divine,
Thine altars still we hallow,
And to thy godhead rear this shrine,
Our only wise Apollo.

THE TENTH NYMPHAL.

NAIIS, CLAIA, CORBILUS, SATYR.

A satyr on Elysium lights,

Whose ugly shape the nymphs affrights, Yet when they hear his just complaint, They make him an Elysian saint.

CORBILUS.

WHAT! breathless, nymphs? bright virgins, let me

know

What sudden cause constrains ye to this haste?
What have ye seen that should affright you so?
What might it be from which ye fly so fast?
I see your faces full of pallid fear,

As though some peril follow'd on your flight;
Take breath a while, and quickly let me hear
Into what danger ye have lately light.

NAIIS. Never were poor distressed girls so glad,
As when kind, loved Corbilus we saw,
When our much haste us so much weak'ned had,
That scarcely we our wearied breaths could draw.
In this next grove under an aged tree,
So fell a monster lying there we found,
As till this day, our eyes did never see,
Nor ever came on the Elysian ground.
Half man, half goat, he seem'd to us in show,
His upper parts our human shape doth bear,
But he's a very perfect goat below,

His crooked cambrils arm'd with hoof and hair. CLAIA. Thro' his lean chops a chattering he doth make,

Which stirs his staring beastly drivel'd beard,
And his sharp horns he seem'd at us to shake;
Canst thou then blame us through we were afraid.

CORBILUS. Surely it seems some satyr this should
Come and go back and guide me to the place, [be,
Be not afraid, ye are safe enough with me,
Silly and harmless be their sylvan race.

CLAIA. How, Corbilus; a satyr do you say? How should he over high Parnassus hit? Since to these fields there's none can find the way, But only those the Muses will permit..

[grace

CORBILUS. 'Tis true; but oft the sacred sisters The silly satyr, by whose plainness they Are taught the world's enormities to trace, By beastly men's abominable way; Besides he may be banish'd his own home By this base time, or be so much distrest, That he the craggy by clift hill hath clome, To find out these more pleasant fields of rest.

NAIIS. Yonder he sits, and seems himself to
bow
[him?

At our approach; what, doth our presence awe
Methinks he seems not half so ugly now,
As at the first, when I and Claia saw hima

Hh