:

him it is the horned Pan, whom in the translated figure of a goat I begot on the fair Spartan Penelope. May, let both your ears and looks forgive it; these are but the lightest escapes of us deities. And it is better in me to prevent his rustic impudence, by my blushing acknowledgment, than anon by his rude, and not insolent claim, be enforced to confess him. Yonder he keeps, and with him the wood nymphs, whose leader he is in rounds and dances, to this sylvan music. The place about which they skip is the fount of laughter, or Bacchus' spring, whose statue is advanced on the top, and from whose pipes, at an observed hour of the day, there flows a lusty liquor that hath a present virtue to expel sadness; and within certain minutes after it is tasted, force all the mirth of the spleen into the face. Of this is Pan the guardian. Lo! the fountain begins to run, but the nymphs at your sight are fled, Pan and his satyrs wildly stand at gaze. I will approach, and question him: vouchsafe your ear, and forgive his behaviour, which even to me, that am his parent, will no doubt be rude enough, though otherwise full of salt, which, except my presence did temper, might turn to be gall and bitterness; but that shall charm him.

Pan. O it is Mercury! hollow them again. What be all these, father, gods or men?

Mer. All human. Only these two are deities on earth, but such as the greatest powers of heaven may resign to.

Pan. Why did our nymphs run away, can you tell?

Here be sweet beauties love Mercury well;

I see by their looks. How say you, great master ?

[Advances to the King. Will you be pleased to hear? shall I be your taster? Mer. Pan, you are too rude.

Pan.

It is but a glass,

By my beard, and my horns, 'tis a health, and shall pass.
Were he a king, and his mistress a queen,

This draught shall make him a petulant spleen.
But trow, is he loose, or costive of laughter?

I'd know to fill him his glass thereafter,

Sure either my skill, or my sight doth mock,

Or this lording's look should not care for the smock;
And yet he should love both a horse and a hound,
And not rest till he saw his game on the ground:
Well, look to him, dame; beshrew me, were I
'Mongst these bonnibells, you should need a good eye.
Here, mistress; all out, since a god is your skinker;
By my hand, I believe you were born a good drinker.
They are things of no spirit, their blood is asleep,
That, when it is offered them, do not drink deep.
Come, who is next? our liquor here cools.
Ladies, I'm sure, you all have not fools
At home to laugh at. A little of this,
Ta'en down here in private, were not amiss.

Believe it, she drinks like a wench that had store
Of lord for her laughter, then will you have more?
What answer you, lordings? will you any or none?
Laugh and be fat, sir, your penance is known.
They that love mirth, let them heartily drink,
'Tis the only receipt to make sorrow sink.

The young nymph that's troubled with an old man,

Let her laugh him away as fast as she can.

Nay, drink, and not pause, as who would say, Must you?

But laugh at the wench that next doth trust you.

To you, sweet beauty; nay, 'pray you come hither

Ere you sit out, you'll laugh at a feather.

I'll never fear you, for being too witty,

You sip so like a 'forsooth' of the city.

Lords, for yourselves, your own cups crown,

The ladies, i'faith, else will laugh you down.
Go to, little blushet, for this, anan,

You'll steal forth a laugh in the shade of your fan.
This, and another thing, I can tell ye,

Will breed a laughter as low as your belly.

Of such sullen pieces, Jove send us not many,

They must be tickled, before they will any.

What! have we done? they that want let 'em call,
Gallants, of both sides, you see here is all
Pan's entertainment: look for no more;

Only, good faces, I rede you, make store

Of your amorous knights, and 'squires hereafter,

They are excellent sponges, to drink up your laughter.
Farewell, I must seek out my nymphs that you frighted;
Thank Hermes, my father, if aught have delighted.

[Exit.

Mer. I am sure, thy last rudeness cannot; for it makes me seriously ashamed.-I will not labour his excuse, since I know you more ready to pardon than he to trespass: but for your singular patience, tender you all abundance of thanks; and, mixing with the master of the place in his wishes, make them my divinations: that your loves be ever flourishing as May, and your house as fruitful: that your acts exceed the best, and your years the longest of your predecessors: that no bad fortune touch you, nor good change you. But still, that you triumph in this facility over the ridiculous pride of other princes, and for ever live safe in the love, rather than the fear, of your subjects.

AND THUS IT ENDED.

THE ENTERTAINMENT

OF THE

TWO KINGS OF GREAT BRITAIN AND DENMARK, At Theobalds, July 24, 1606.

The Kings being entered the Inner Court, above, over the porch,
sat the three Hours, upon clouds, as at the ports of heaven,
crowned with several flowers: of which one bore a sun-dial;
the other, a clock; the third, an hour-glass; signifying as by
their names, Law, Justice, and Peace: and for those faculties
chosen to gratulate their coming with this speech.
ENTER, O longed-for princes, bless these bowers,
And us, the three, by you made happy, Hours :
We that include all time, yet never knew
Minute like this, or object like to you,
Two kings, the world's prime honours, whose access
Shows either's greatness, yet makes neither less:
Vouchsafe your thousand welcomes in this shewer;
The master vows, not Sybil's leaves were truer.
Expressed to the King of Denmark, thus:
Qui colit has adeis, ingentia gaudia adumbrans,
Cernendo reges pace coire pares,

Nos tempestivas, ad limina, collocat Horas,
Quòd bona sub nobis omnia proveniant.
Unum ad lætitiæ cumulum tristatur abesse,

Quòd nequeat signis Lætitiam exprimere.
Sed quia res solùm ingentes hac parte laborant,
Utcunque expressam credidit esse satis.
At, quod non potuit dominus, supplevit abunaè
Frondoso tellus munere facta loquax.
Eccos quam grati veniant quos terra salutat!
Verior his foliis nulla Sybilla fuit.

The inscriptions on the walls were,

DATE VENIAM SUBITIS.

DEBENTUR QVÆ SUNT, QUÆQUE FUTURA.

Epigrams hung up.

Ad Reges Serenissimos.

Sæpe Theobaldæ (sortis bonitate beatæ)
Excepere suos sub pia tecta deos;

Haud simul at geminos: sed enim potuisse negabant:
Nec fas est tales posse putare duos.

Fortunata antehac, sed nunc domus undique fœlix, At dominus quanto (si licet usque) magis!

Et licet, ô Magni, foliis si fiditis istis,

Queis Hora summam contribuere fidem.

Ad Serenissimum Jacobum.

Miraris, cur hospitio te accepimus Hora,
Cujus ad obsequium non satis annus erat?
Nempe quod adveniant ingentia gaudia rarò,
Et quando adveniant vix datur hora frui.
Ad Serenissimum Christianum.

Miraris, cur hospitio te accepimus Horæ,

Quas solis famulas Græcia docta vocat? Talis ab adventu vestro lux fulsit in ædeis, Ut dominus solem crederet esse novum.

Others, at their departure.

Ad Serenissimum Jacobum.

Hospitio qui te cepit, famulantibus Horis,
Cedere abhinc, nulla concomitante, sinit;
Nempe omneis horas veniendi duxit amicas,
Sed discedendi nulla minuta probat.

Ad Serenissimum Christianum.

Te venienti, novo domus hæc frondebat amictu;
Te discessuro, non prout ante viret:
Nempe, sub accessu solis novus incipit annus,
Et, sub discessu squalida sævit hyems.