same; not so much as my chariot, but resembled by thee? and both the doves and swans I have borrowed of my mother to draw it? the very number of my champions emulated, and almost their habits! What insolence is this?

2 Cup. Good little one, quarrel not; you have now put yourself upon others' valour, not your own, and you must know you can bring no person hither to strengthen your side, but we can produce an equal. Be it Persuasion you have got there, the peculiar enchantress of your sex; behold we have Mercury here to charm against her, who gives all lovers their true and masculine eloquence; or are they the Graces you presume on, your known clients, Spring, Beauty, and Cheerfulness? here are Youth, Audacity, and Favour to encounter them, three more manly perfections, and much more powerful in working for Love. Child, you are all the ways of winning too weak; there is no thinking, either with your honour or discretion kept safe, to continue on a strife wherein you are already vanquished. Yield, be penitent early, and confess it.

1 Cup. I will break my bow and quiver into dust first (restore me mine own arms) or be torn in pieces with Harpies, marry one of the Furies, turn into Chaos again, and dissolve the harmony of

nature.

2 Cup. O, most stiffly spoken, and fit for the sex you stand for! Well, give the sign then let the trumpets sound, and upon the valour and fortune of your champions put the right of your

cause.

I Cup. 'Tis done.

Here the TILTING took place.

After which,

2 Cup. Now, sir, you have got mightily by this contention, and advanced your cause to a most high degree of estimation with these spectators! have you not ?

1 Cup. Why, what have you done, or won?

2 Cup. It is enough for me who was called out to this trial, that I have not lost, or that my side is not vanquished.

Enter HYMEN.

Hy. Come, you must yield both; this is neither contention for you, nor time fit to contend; there is another kind of tilting would become Love better than this; to meet lips for lances, and crack kisses instead of staves: which there is no beauty here, I presume, so young, but can fancy, nor so tender, but would venture. Here is the palm for which you must strive: which of you wins this bough, is the right and best Cupid; and whilst you are striving, let Hymen, the president of these solemnities, tell you something of your own story, and what yet you know not of yourselves. You are both true Cupids, and both the sons of Venus by Mars, but this the first born, and was called Eros; who upon his birth proved a child of excellent beauty, and right worthy his mother; but after, his growth not answering his form, not only Venus, but the Graces, who nursed him, became extremely solicitous for him; and were impelled, out of their grief and care, to consult the oracle about him. Themis (for Apollo was not yet of years) gave answer, there wanted nothing to his perfection; but that they had not enough considered, or looked into the nature of the infant, which indeed was desirous of a companion only: for though Love, and the true, might be born of Venus single and alone, yet he could not thrive and increase alone. Therefore if she affected his growth, Venus must bring forth a brother to him, and name him Anteros, that with reciprocal affection might pay the exchange of Love. This made that thou wert born her second birth. Since when, your natures are, that either of you, looking upon other, thrive, and by your mutual respects and interchange of ardour, flourish and prosper; whereas, if the one be deficient or wanting to the other, it fares worse with both. This is the Love that Hymen requires, without which no marriage is happy: when the contention is not, who is the true Love, but, being both true, who loves most; cleaving the bough between you, and dividing the

palm. This is a strife wherein you both win, and begets a concord worthy all married minds' emulation, when the lover transforms himself into the person of his beloved, as you two do now; by whose example, let your knights (all honourable friends and servants of Love) affect the like peace, and depart the lists equal in their friendships for ever, as to-day they have been in their fortunes. And may this royal court never know more difference in humours; or these well-graced nuptials more discord in affections, than what they presently feel, and may ever avoid?

1 and 2 Cup. To this Love says, Amen.

THE IRISH MASQUE,

AT COURT,

BY GENTLEMEN, THE KING'S SERVANTS.

The King being set in expectation, out ran a fellow attired like a citizen: after him, three or four footmen, DENNISE, DONNELL, DERMOCK, and PATRICK.

Pat. For chreeshes sayk, phair ish te king? phich ish he, ant be? show me te shweet faish, quickly. By got, o' my conshence, tish ish he! ant tou be king Yamish, me name is Dennish, I sherve ti majesties owne cashtermonger, be me trote; and cry peepsh, and pomwatersh in ti mayesties shervice, 'tis five year now. Ant tou vilt not trush me now, call up ti clarke o' ti kitchen, be ant be, shall give hish wort, upon hish book, ish true. Don. Ish it te fashion, to beate te imbasheters here, and knocke 'hem o'te heads phit te phoit stick?

Der. Ant make ter meshage run out a ter mouthsh, before tey shpeake vit te king?

Den. Peash, Dermock, here ish te king.

Der. Phair ish te king?

Don. Phich ish te king?

Den. Tat ish te king.

Der. Ish tat te king? Got blesh him!

Den. Peash, and take heet, vat tou shaysht, man.

Der. Creesh blesh him, I shay. Phat reason I tayk heet, for tat?

Don. Creesh blesh ti shweet faish, king Yamish; and my mishtresh faish too: pre te, hear me now. I am come a great vay of miles to she te now, by my fayt and trote, and graish

o' got.

Den. Phat ish te meaning o'tish, Donnell? didsh tou not shay, a gotsh name, I should tell ty tale for tee? ant entrayt me come to te court, and leave me vare at shiede, and seven? by got, ish true now.

Don. Yesh. But I thanke got I can tell my tayle myshelfe, now I be here, I warrant tee: pre de hear me, king Yamish.

Den. Pree dee heare me, king Yamish: I can tell tee better ten he.

Pat. Pree dee heare neder noder on 'hem: here'sh Dermock will shpeake better ten eder oder on 'hem.

Der. No fayt, shweet hart, tow lyesht. Patrick here ish te vesht man of hish tongue, of all de foure; pre tee now heare him.

Pat. By chreesh shave me, tow lyesht. I have te vorsht tongue in de company at thy shervish. Vill shomebody shpeak?

Don. By my fayt, I vill not.

Der. By my goship's hand, I vill not.

Pat. Speake, Dennish, ten.

Den. If I speake, te divell tayke me. I vill give tee leave to cram my mouth phit shamrokes and butter, and vater creeshes instead of pearsh and peepsh.

Pat. If nobody will shpeake, I vill shpeake. Pleash ty shweet faish, we come from Ireland.

Der. We be Irishmen, an't pleash tee.

Don. Ty good shubshects of Ireland, and pleash ty mayesty. Den. Of Connough, Leynster, Ulster, Munster. I mine one shelfe vash born in the English payle, and pleash ty mayesty.

Pat. Sacrament o' chreesh, tell ty tale ty shelfe, and be all tree. Den. And pleash ty graish, I vill tell tee, tere vash a great newesh in Ireland of a great brideal of one o' ty lords here ant be. Pat. Ty man Robyne, tey shay.

Don. Mary ty man Toumaish, his daughter, tey shay.

Der. Ay, ty good man, Toumaish o' Shuffolke.

Don. He knoke ush o'te payt here, ash we come by, by a good token.

Der. I' fayt, tere ish very much phoyt stick here stirring tonight. He takes ush for no shquires, I tinke.