Sidor som bilder


Queen of hunters, chaste and fair,
Now the sun is laid asleep,
Seated in thy silver chair,

State in wonted manner keep,
Hesperus entreats thy light,
Goddess, excellently bright.

Earth, let not thy envious shade
Dare itself to interpose;
Cynthia's shining orb was made

Heav'n to clear, when day did close.
Bless us then with wished sight,
Goddess, excellently bright.

Lay thy bow of pearl apart,

And thy crystal shining quiver;
Give unto the flying hart

Space to breathe, how short soever;
Thou, that mak’st a day of night,
Goddess, excellently bright.


Volpone makes love to Celia.


See, behold,

What thou art queen of; not in expectation,
As I feed others, but possess'd and crown'd.
See here, a rope of pearl; and each, more orient
Than that the brave Ægyptian queen caroused:
Dissolve and drink them. See, a carbuncle,
May put out both the eyes of our St. Mark;
A diamond would have bought Lollier Pauliner,
When she came in like star-light, hid with jewels,

That were the spoils of provinces; take these
And wear and lose them; yet remains an ear-ring

To purchase them again, and this whole state.
A gem but worth a private patrimony,
Is nothing we will eat such at a meal.

The heads of parrots, tongues of nightingales,
The brains of peacocks, and of estriches,
Shall be our food: and, could we get the phonix,
Though nature lost her kind, she were our dish.

Cel. Good sir, these things might move a mind affected
With such delights; but I, whose innocence

Is all I can think wealthy, or worth th' enjoying,
And which, once lost, I have naught to lose beyond it,
Cannot be taken with these sensual baits:

If you have conscience


'Tis the beggar's virtue :
If thou had wisdom, hear me, Celia.
Thy baths shall be the juice of July flowers,
Spirit of roses and of violets,

The milk of unicorns, and panthers' breath
Gather'd in bags, and mixt with Cretan wines.
Our drink shall be prepared gold and amber;
Which we will take until my roof whirl round
With the vertigo: and my dwarf shall dance,
My eunuch sing, my fool make up the antic;
Whilst we, in changed shape, act Ovid's tales
Thou, like Europa now, and I like Jove;
Then I like Mars, and thou like Erycine:
So, of the rest, till we have quite run through
And wearied all the fables of the gods.



Sir Epiane Mammon, expecting to obtain the Philosopher's Stone, riots in the anticipation of enjoyment.


Mam. Come on, sir. Now, you set your foot on shore

In Novo Orbe : here's the rich Peru:

And there within, sir, are the golden wines,
Great Solomon's Ophir! he was sailing to 't
Three years; but we have reach'd it in ten months.
This is the day, wherein to all my friends,

I will pronounce the happy word, BE RICH.
Where is my Subtle there! Within!

Enter FACE.

How now?

Do we succeed? Is our day come? and holds it'
Face. The evening will set red upon you, sir;
You have color for it, crimson: the red ferment
Has done his office: three hours hence prepare you
To see projection.

Mam. Pertinax, my Surly,

Again I say to thee, aloud, BE RICH.

This day thou shalt have ingots; and to-morrow Give lords the affront.-Is it, my Zephyrus, right?— Thou'rt sure thou saw'st it blood?

Face. Both blood and spirit, sir.

Mam. I will have all my beds blown up, not stuff'd : Down is too hard.-My mists

I'll have of perfume, vapored 'bout the room
To lose ourselves in; and my baths, like pits,
To fall into: from whence we will come forth,
And roll us dry in gossamer and roses,
Is it arriv'd at ruby?-And my flatterers
Shall be the pure and gravest of divines.—
And they shall fan me with ten estrich tails
A-piece, made in a plume to gather wind.
We will be brave, Puffe, now we have the med❜cine
My meat shall all come in, in Indian shells,
Dishes of agate, set in gold, and studded
With emeralds, sapphires, hyacinths, and rubies,
The tongues of carps, dormice, and camels' heels,
Boil'd in the spirit of sol, and dissolv'd pearl,
Apicius' diet 'gainst the epilepsy:

And I will eat these broths with spoons of amber,
Headed with diamond and carbuncle.

My foot-boy shall eat pheasants, calver'd salmons,
Knots, godwits, lampreys: I myself will have
The beards of barbels serv'd, instead of salads;
Oil'd mushrooms; and the swelling, unctuous paps
Of a fat pregnant sow, newly cut off,

Drest with an exquisite and poignant sauce,
For which I'll say unto my cook, "There's gold;
Go forth, and be a knight."

Sir, I'll go look


A little, how it heightens.

[Exit FACE.

I'll have of taffeta-sarsnet, soft and light

Do. My shirts

As cobwebs; and for all my other raiment,
It shall be such as might provoke the Persian,
Were he to teach the world riot anew.
My gloves of fishes and birds' skins, perfum'd
With gums of Paradise and eastern air.

Sur. And do you think to have the stone with this?
Mam. No; I do think t' have all this with the stone !
Sur. Why, I have heard he must be homo frugi,

A pious, holy, and religious man,

One free from mortal sin, a very virgin.

Mam. That makes it, Sir; he is so; BUT I BUY IT.


From the Pastoral Fragment, entitled " The Sad Shepherd."


Know ye the witch's dell?
Scathlock. No more than I do know the walks of hell.
Alken. Within a gloomy dimble she doth dwell,
Down in a pit, o'ergrown with brakes and briars.
Close by the ruins of a shaken abbey,

Torn with an earthquake down unto the ground,
'Mongst graves and grots, near an old charnel-house,
Where you shall find her sitting in her form,
As fearful and melancholic as that

She is about; with caterpillars' kells,

And knotty cobwebs, rounded in with spells.
Then she steals forth to relief in the fogs,

And rotten mists, upon the fens and bogs,
Down to the drowned lands of Lincolnshire;

To make ewes cast their lambs, swine eat their farrow,
And housewives' tun not work, nor the milk churn!
Writhe children's wrists, and suck their breath in sleep,
Get vials of their blood! and where the sea
Casts up his slimy ooze, search for a weed
To open locks with, and to rivet charms,
Planted about her in the wicked feat
Of all her mischiefs; which are manifold.

John. I wonder such a story could be told
Of her dire deeds.

George. I thought a witch's banks Had inclosed nothing but the merry pranks Of some old woman.


Yes, her malice more.

Scath. As it would quickly appear had we the store
Of his collects.

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He knows her shifts and haunts-


Alken. And all her wiles and turns. The venom'd plants
Wherewith she kills! where the sad mandrake grows,
Whose groans are deathful; and dead-numbing night-shade,
The stupefying hemlock, adder's tongue,
And martagan: the shrieks of luckless owls

We hear, and croaking night crows in the air!
Green-bellied snakes, blue fire-drakes in the sky,
And giddy flitter-mice with leather wings!
The scaly beetles, with their habergeons,
That make a humming murmur as they fly!
There in the stocks of trees, white fairies do dwell,
And span-long elves that dance about a pool,
With each a little changeling in their arms!
The airy spirits play with falling stars,

And mount the spheres of fire to kiss the moon!
While she sits reading by the glow-worm's light,
Or rotten wood, o'er which the worm hath crept,
The baneful schedule of her nocent charms.



From the Masque of Queens.

Charm. The owl is abroad, the bat and the toad,

And so is the cat-a-mountain;

The ant and the mole both sit in a hole,

And the frog peeps out of the fountain:
The dogs they do bay, and the timbrels play,
The spindle is now a turning;

The moon it is red, and the stars are fled,
But all the sky is a-burning.

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