Who shall bathe him in the streams

Of your blood, and send you dreams
Of delight?

Sphynx. Away, go bear him

Hence, they shall no longer hear him.

Here the MUSES' PRIESTS, in number twelve, advance to his rescue,

and sing this SONG to a measure.

Gentle love,1 be not dismayed.
See the Muses pure and holy,
By their priests have sent thee aid
Against this brood of Folly.
It is true, that Sphynx their dame

Had the sense first from the Muses
Which in uttering she doth lame,
Perplexeth and abuses.

But they bid that thou shouldst look
In the brightest face here shining,
And the same, as would a book,
Shall help thee in divining.

Love. 'Tis done! 'tis done! I've found it out-
Britain's the world the world without.

The king's the eye, as we do call
The sun the eye of this great all.
And is the light and treasure too;
For 'tis his wisdom all doth do.
Which still is fixéd in his breast,
Yet still doth move to guide the rest.
The contraries which Time till now
Nor Fate knew where to join, or how,
Are Majesty and Love; which there,
And nowhere else, have their true sphere.
Now, Sphynx, I've hit the right upon,

And do resolve these all by one :

That is, that you meant ALBION.

1 Here is understood the power of Wisdom in the Muses' ministers, by which name all that have the spirit of prophecy are styled, and such they are that need to encounter Ignorance and Folly; and are ever ready to assist Love in any action of honour and virtue, and inspire him with their own soul.

Priests. 'Tis true in him, and in no other,
Love, thou art clear absolved.
Vanish, Follies, with your mother,
The riddle is resolved.

Sphynx must fly when Phoebus shines

And to aid of Love inclines.

[SPHYNX retires with the FOLLIES.

Love. Appear then, you my brighter charge,

And to light yourselves enlarge,

To behold that glorious star

For whose love you came so far,

While the monster with her elves

Do precipitate themselves.

Here the GRACES enter, and sing this SONG, crowning CUPID. A crown, a crown for Love's bright head,

Without whose happy wit

All form and beauty had been dead,

And we had died with it.

For what are all the Graces

Without good forms and faces ?

Then, Love, receive the due reward

Those Graces have prepared.

Cho. And may no hand, no tongue, no eye
Thy merit, or their thanks envý.

CHORUS and GRACES.

Cho. What gentle forms are these that move
To honour Love?

Gra. They are the bright and golden lights
That grace his nights.

Cho. And shot from beauty's eyes,

They look like fair Aurora's streams. Gra. They are her fairer daughter's beams, Who now doth rise.

Cho. Then night is lost, or fled away;

For where such beauty shines is ever day.

The Masque Dance followed.

Which done, one of the PRIESTS alone sung.
I Priest. O what a fault, nay, what a sin
In fate or fortune had it been,

Cho. It would nature quite undo,

For losing these, you lost her too.

The Measures and Revels follow.

2 Priest. How near to good is what is fair!
Which we no sooner see,

But with the lines and outward air

Our senses taken be.

We wish to see it still, and

prove

What ways we may deserve;

We court, we praise, we more than love :
We are not grieved to serve.

The last Masque Dance. And after it, this full

SONG.

What just excuse had agéd Time,

His weary limbs now to have eased,

And sate him down without his crime,

While every thought was so much pleased!

But he so greedy to devour

His own, and all that he brings forth,

Is eating every piece of hour

Some object of the rarest worth.

Yet this is rescued from his rage,

As not to die by time or age:

For beauty hath a living name,

And will to heaven, from whence it came.

Grand Chorus at going out.

Now, now, gentle Love is free, and beauty blest
With the sight it so much longed to see.

Let us, the Muses' priests and Graces, go to rest,
For in them our happy labours be.

Then, then, *** music sound, and teach our feet,
How to move in time, and measure meet :
Thus should the Muses' priests and Graces go to rest,
Bowing to the Sun throned in the west.

LOVE RESTORED,

IN A MASQUE AT COURT,

BY GENTLEMEN, THE KING'S SERVANTS.

The King and Court being seated, and in expectation,
Enter MASQUERADO,

I WOULD I could make them a show myself! In troth, ladies, I pity you all. You are in expectation of a device to-night, and I am afraid you can do little else but expect it. Though I dare not show my face, I can speak truth under a vizard. Good faith, an't please your Majesty, your Masquers are all at a stand; I cannot think your Majesty will see any show to-night, at least worth your patience. Some two hours since, we were in that forwardness, our dances learned, our masquing attire on, and attired. A pretty fine speech was taken up of the poet too, which if he never be paid for now, it's no matter his wit costs him nothing. Unless we should come in like a morrice-dance, and whistle our ballad ourselves, I know not what we should do: we have neither musician to play our tunes, but the wild music here; and the rogue play-boy that acts Cupid, is got so hoarse, your Majesty cannot hear him half the breadth of your chair.

Enter PLUTUS, as CUPID.

See, they have thrust him out, at adventure. We humbly beseech your Majesty to bear with us. We had both hope and purpose it should have been better, howsoever we are lost in it.

Plu. What makes this light feathered vanity here? Away, impertinent folly! Infect not this assembly.

Masq. How, boy!

Plu. Thou common corruption of all manners and places that admit thee.

Masq. Have you recovered your voice to rail at me?

Plu. No, vizarded impudence. I am neither player nor masquer; but the god himself, whose deity is here profaned by thee. Thou and thy like think yourselves authorised in this place to all license of surquedry. But you shall find custom hath not so grafted you here, but you may be rent up and thrown out as unprofitable evils. I tell thee, I will have no more masquing; I will not buy a false and fleeting delight so dear: the merry madness of one hour shall not cost me the repentance of an age.

Enter ROBIN Goodfellow,

Rob. How! no masque, no masque? I pray you say, are you sure on't? no masque, indeed! What do I hear then? can you tell? Masq. No, faith.

Rob. Slight, I'll be gone again, an there be no masque; there's a jest. Pray you resolve me. Is there any? or no? a masque? Plu. Who are you?

Rob. Nay, I'll tell you that when I can. Does anybody know themselves here, think you? I would fain know if there be a masque or no.

Plu. There is none, nor shall be, sir; does that satisfy you?

Rob. Slight, a fine trick! a piece of England's Joy, this! Are these your court sports? Would I had kept me to my gambols o' the country still, selling of fish, short service, shoeing the wild mare, or roasting of robin-redbreast. These were better than, after all this time, no masque: you look at me. I have recovered myself now for you, I am the honest plain country spirit, and harmless; Robin Goodfellow, he that sweeps the hearth and the house clean, riddles for the country maids, and does all their other drudgery, while they are at hot-cockles: one that has discoursed with your court spirits ere now; but was fain to-night to run a thousand hazards to arrive at this place: never poor goblin was so put to his shifts to get in to see nothing. So many thorny difficulties