But barks against the moon, and I contemn it. The mask you promised. [A horn sounded within. Ladis. Let them enter.

Enter a Courier.

How!

Eubu. Here's one, I fear, unlook'd for.
Ladis. From the camp?

Cour. The general, victorious in your fortune, Kisses your hand in this, sir. [Delivers a letter.

Ladis. That great Power,

Who at his pleasure does dispose of battles,
Be ever praised for't! Read, sweet, and partake it :
The Turk is vanquish'd, and with little loss
Upon our part, in which our joy is doubled.

Eubu. But let it not exalt you; bear it, sir,
With moderation, and pay what you owe for't.

Ladis. I understand thee, Eubulus. I'll not now Enquire particulars.-[Exit Courier.]-Our delights deferr'd,

With reverence to the temples; there we'll tender Our souls' devotions to his dread might,

Who edged our swords, and taught us how to fight. [Exeunt.

SCENE I.-BOHEMIA.

Hil. And if I put her not out of her dumps I'll make her howl for anger. [with laughter,

Coris. Not too much

Of that, good fellow Hilario: our sad lady
Hath drank too often of that bitter cup;

A pleasant one must restore her. With what patience

Would she endure to hear of the death of my lord; That, merely out of doubt he may miscarry, Afflicts herself thus ?

Hil. Umph! 'tis a question

A widow only can resolve. There be some
That in their husbands' sicknesses have wept
Their pottle of tears a day; but being once certain
At midnight he was dead, have in the morning
Dried up their handkerchiefs, and thought no
more on't.

Coris. Tush, she is none of that race; if her

sorrow

Be not true and perfect, I, against my sex,
Will take my oath woman ne'er wept in earnest.
She has made herself a prisoner to her chamber,
Dark as a dungeon, in which no beam
Of comfort enters. She admits no visits;
Eats little, and her nightly music is
Of sighs and groans, tuned to such harmony
Of feeling grief, that I, against my nature,
Am made one of the consort. This hour only
She takes the air, a custom every day

Soph. I was flatter'd once, I was a star, but now Turn'd a prodigious meteor, and, like one, Hang in the air between my hopes and fears; And every hour the little stuff burnt out That yields a waning light to dying comfort, I do expect my fall, and certain ruin. In wretched things more wretched is delay; And Hope, a parasite to me, being unmask'd, Appears more horrid than Despair, and my Distraction worse than madness. Even my prayers, When with most zeal sent upward, are pull'd down With strong imaginary doubts and fears, And in their sudden precipice o'erwhelm me. Dreams and fantastic visions walk the round About my widow'd bed, and every slumber's Broken with loud alarms: can these be then But sad presages, girl?

Coris. You make them so,

And antedate a loss shall ne'er fall on you.
Such pure affection, such mutual love,
A bed, and undefiled on either part,
A house without contention, in two bodies
One will and soul, like to the rod of concord,
Kissing each other, cannot be short-lived,
Or end in barrenness.-If all these, dear madam,
(Sweet in your sadness,) should produce no fruit,
Or leave the age no models of yourselves,

I know thy reasons are like to thy wishes;
And they are built upon a weak foundation,
To raise me comfort. Ten long days are past,
Ten long days, my Corisca, since my lord
Embark'd himself upon a sea of danger,
In his dear care of me. And if his life
Had not been shipwreck'd on the rock of war,
His tenderness of me (knowing how much
I languish for his absence) had provided
Some trusty friend, from whom I might receive
Assurance of his safety.

Coris. Ill news, madam,

To strive; our horses tired, let's walk on foot:
And that the castle, which is very near us,
To give us entertainment, may soon hear us,
Blow lustily, my lad, and drawing nigh-a,
Ask for a lady which is cleped Sophia.
Coris. He names you, madam.

Hil. For to her I bring,

Thus clad in arms, news of a pretty thing,
By name Mathias.

Soph. From my lord? O sir,

I am Sophia, that Mathias' wife.

[Exit Courier.

So may Mars favour you in all your battles, As you with speed unload me of the burthen

I labour under, till I am confirm'd

Both where and how you left him!

Hil. If thou art,

For, though a knight, when I said so, I lied.
Weary he was, and scarce could stand upright,
And looking round for some courageous knight
To rescue him, as one perplex'd in woe,
He call'd to me, Help, help, Hilario!
My valiant servant, help!

Coris. He has spoil'd all.

Soph. Are you the man of arms, then? I'll make bold

To take off your martial beard, you had fool's hair
Enough without it. Slave! how durst thou make
Thy sport of what concerns me more than life,
In such an antic fashion? Am I grown
Contemptible to those I feed? you, minion,
Had a hand in it too, as it appears;

Your petticoat serves for bases to this warrior.
Coris. We did it for your mirth.
Hil. For myself, I hope,

I have spoke like a soldier.

Soph. Hence, you rascal!

I never but with reverence name my lord,
And can I hear it by thy tongue profaned,
And not correct thy folly? but you are
Transform'd, and turn'd knight-errant : take your

A fine piece of work on't! How do you like the You had a foolish itch to be an actor, [quality? And may stroll where you please.

Hil. Will you buy my share?

Coris. No, certainly; I fear I have already Too much of mine own: I'll only, as a damsel, (As the books say,) thus far help to disarm you; And so, dear Don Quixote, taking my leave, I leave you to your fortune. Hil. Have I sweat

[Exit.

My brains out for this quaint and rare invention,
And am I thus rewarded? I could turn
Tragedian, and roar now, but that I fear
"Twould get me too great a stomach, having no

meat

To pacify colon: What will become of me?

I cannot beg in armour, and steal I dare not :
My end must be to stand in a corn field,
And fright away the crows, for bread and cheese;
Or find some hollow tree in the highway,
And there, until my lord return, sell switches:
No more Hilario, but Dolorio now,

I'll weep my eyes out, and be blind of purpose
To move compassion; and so I vanish. [Exit.

SCENE II.-Alba Regalis. An Ante-room in

the Palace.

Enter EUBULUS, UBALDO, RICARDO, and others.

Eubu. Are the gentlemen sent before, as it was order'd

By the king's direction, to entertain
The general?

Ric. Long since; they by this have met him, And given him the bienvenu.

Eubu. I hope I need not Instruct you in your parts.

Ubald. How! us, my lord!

Fear not; we know our distances and degrees
To the very inch where we are to salute him.
Ric. The state were miserable, if the court
had none

Of her own breed, familiar with all garbs
Gracious in England, Italy, Spain, or France;
With form and punctuality to receive
Stranger ambassadors: for the general,
He's a mere native, and it matters not
Which way we do accost him.

Ubald. 'Tis great pity

That such as sit at the helm provide no better

For the training up of the gentry. In my judg

An academy erected, with large pensions

To such as in a table could set down

[ment

The congees, cringes, postures, methods, phrase, Proper to every nation

Ric. O, it were

An admirable piece of work!

Ubald. And yet rich fools

Throw away their charity on hospitals

For beggars and lame soldiers, and ne'er study
The due regard to compliment and courtship,
Matters of more import; and are indeed
The glories of a monarchy !

Eubu. These, no doubt,

Are state points, gallants, I confess; but, sure,
Our court needs no aids this way, since it is
A school of nothing else. There are some of you
Whom I forbear to name, whose coining heads
Are the mints of all new fashions, that have done
More hurt to the kingdom by superfluous bravery,
Which the foolish gentry imitate, than a war,
Or a long famine; all the treasure, by
This foul excess, is got into the merchant,
Embroiderer, silkman, jeweller, tailor's hand,
And the third part of the land too, the nobility
Engrossing titles only.

Ric. My lord, you are bitter.

Enter a Servant.

[A trumpet.

Serv. The general is alighted, and now enter'd. Ric. Were he ten generals, I am prepared,

And know what I will do.

Eubu. Pray you, what Ricardo?

Ric. I'll fight at compliment with him.
Ubald. I'll charge home too.

Eubu. And that's a desperate service; if you come off well.

Enter FERDINAND, MATHIAS, BAPTISTA, and Captains.

Ferd. Captain, command the officers to keep
The soldier, as he march'd, in rank and file,
Till they hear further from me. [Exeunt Captains.
Eubu. Here's one speaks

In another key; this is no canting language
Taught in your academy.

I will begin, and, as in my esteem
You are most eminent, expect to have
What's fit for me to give, and you to take.
The favour in the quick dispatch being double,
Go fetch my casket, and with speed. [Exit ACANTHE.
Eubu. The kingdom

Is very bare of money, when rewards
Issue from the queen's jewel-house. Give him gold
And store, no question the gentleman wants it.
Good madam, what shall he do with a hoop ring,
And a spark of diamond in it? though you take it,

Re-enter ACANTHE with a Casket.

For the greater honour, from your majesty's finger,
"Twill not increase the value. He must purchase
Rich suits, the gay caparison of courtship,
Revel and feast, which, the war ended, is
A soldier's glory; and 'tis fit that way
Your bounty should provide for him.
Hon. You are rude,

And by your narrow thoughts proportion mine.
What I will do now shall be worth the envy
Of Cleopatra. Open it; see here

[HONORIA descends from the State.
The lapidary's idol! Gold is trash,
And a poor salary fit for grooms; wear these,
As studded stars in your armour, and make the sun
Look dim with jealousy of a greater light
Than his beams gild the day with: when it is
Exposed to view, call it Honoria's gift,

The queen Honoria's gift, that loves a soldier ;
And, to give ornament and lustre to him,
Parts freely with her own! Yet, not to take
From the magnificence of the king, I will
Dispense his bounty too, but as a page
To wait on mine; for other tosses, take
A hundred thousand crowns :-your hand, dear
sir-
[Takes off the King's signet.
And this shall be thy warrant.
Eubu. I perceive

I was cheated in this woman: now she is
In the giving vein to soldiers, let her be proud,
And the king dote, so she go on, I care not.

Hon. This done, our pleasure is, that all arrear-
Be paid unto the captains, and their troops; [ages
With a large donative, to increase their zeal
For the service of the kingdom.

Eubu. Better still:

Let men of arms be used thus, if they do not Charge desperately upon the cannon's mouth, Though the devil roar'd, and fight like dragons, hang me!

Now they may drink sack; but small beer, with a passport

To beg with as they travel, and no money,
Turns their red blood to buttermilk.
Hon. Are you pleased, sir,

With what I have done?

Ladis. Yes, and thus confirm it,

With this addition of mine own: You have, sir,
From our loved queen received some recompense
For your life hazarded in the late action;
And, that we may follow her great example
In cherishing valour, without limit ask
What you from us can wish.

Math. If it be true,

Dread sir, as 'tis affirm'd, that every soil,
Where he is well, is to a valiant man

His natural country, reason may assure me
I should fix here, where blessings beyond hope,
From you, the spring, like rivers, flow unto me.
If wealth were my ambition, by the queen
I am made rich already, to the amazement
Of all that see, or shall hereafter read
The story of her bounty; if to spend
The remnant of my life in deeds of arms,
No region is more fertile of good knights,
From whom my knowledge that way may be bet-
Than this your warlike Hungary; if favour, [ter'd,
Or grace in court could take me, by your grant,
Far, far, beyond my merit, I may make
In yours a free election; but, alas! sir,
I am not mine own, but by my destiny
(Which I cannot resist) forced to prefer
My country's smoke, before the glorious fire
With which your bounties warm me. All I ask,
Though I cannot be ignorant it must relish
Of foul ingratitude, is your gracious license
For my departure.

Ladis. Whither?

Math. To my own home, sir,

My own poor home; which will, at my return,
Grow rich by your magnificence. I am here
But a body without a soul; and, till I find it
In the embraces of my constant wife,
And, to set off that constancy, in her beauty
And matchless excellencies without a rival,
I am but half myself.

Hon. And is she then

So chaste and fair as you infer?
Math. O, madam,

Though it must argue weakness in a rich man,
To shew his gold before an armed thief,
And I, in praising of my wife, but feed
The fire of lust in others to attempt her;
Such is my full-sail'd confidence in her virtue,
Though in my absence she were now besieged
By a strong army of lascivious wooers,
And every one more expert in his art,
Than those that tempted chaste Penelope :

[sir,