Through all our ebbs and tides my trump hath blaz'd her,

Yet can no cavern show me Proserpine.

She questions the EARTH.

Cer. Fair sister Earth, for all these beauteous fields
Spread o'er thy breast; for all these fertile crops
With which my plenty have enrich'd thy bosom ;
For all those rich and pleasant wreaths of grain
With which so oft thy temples I have crowned;
For all the yearly liveries and fresh robes
Upon thy summer beauty I bestow,

Show me my child.

Earth. Not in revenge, fair Ceres,

That your remorseless ploughs have rak'd my breast, Nor that your iron-tooth'd harrows print my face So full of wrinkles, that you dig my sides For marl and soil, and make me bleed my springs Through all my open'd veins, to weaken me, Do I conceal your daughter. I have spread My arms from sea to sea, look'd o'er my mountains, Examin'd all my pastures, groves, and plains, Marshes, and wolds, my woods and champain fields My dens, and caves; and yet, from foot to head, I have no place on which the Moon 1 doth tread. Cer. Then, Earth, thou hast lost her; and for Proserpine, I'll strike thee with a lasting barrenness.

1

No more shall plenty crown thy fertile brows; I'll break thy ploughs, thy oxen murrain-strike; With idle agues I'll consume thy swains

;

Sow tares and cockles in thy lands of wheat, Whose spikes the weed and couch-grass shall out

grow,

And choke it in the blade. The rotten showers Shall drown thy seed, which the hot sun shall parch,

1 Proserpine; who was also Luna in Heaven, Diana on Earth.

Or mildews rot; and what remains shall be
A prey to ravenous birds.-Oh, Proserpine,-
You gods that dwell above, and you below,
Both of the woods and gardens, rivers, brooks,
Fountains, and wells, some one among you all
Show me herself, or grave! to you I call.

ARETHUSA riseth.

Are. That can the river Arethusa do.

My streams, you know, fair goddess, issue forth
From Tartary, by the Tænarian isles.

My head 's in hell, where Stygian Pluto reigns:
There did I see the lovely Proserpine,

Whom Pluto hath rapt hence: behold her girdle, Which on her way dropp'd from her beauteous waist, And scattered in my streams.-Fair Queen, adieu. Crown you my banks with flowers, as I tell true.

THE BRAZEN AGE, AN HISTORICAL PLAY:

BY THE SAME AUTHOR, 1613.

VENUS courts ADONIS.

Ven. Why doth Adonis fly the Queen of Love,
And shun this ivory girdle of my arms?

To be thus scarf'd the dreadful God of war
Would give me conquered kingdoms. For a kiss,
But half like this, I could command the Sun
Rise 'fore his hour, to bed before his time;
And, being love-sick, change his golden beams,
And make his face pale, as his sister Moon.
Look on me, Adon, with a stedfast eye,
That in these crystal glasses I may see

My beauty that charms gods, makes men amaz'd

And stown'd with wonder. Doth this roseate

pillow

Offend my love?

With my white fingers I will clap thy cheek, Whisper a thousand pleasures in thine ear. Adon. Madam, you are not modest: I affect The unseen beauty that adorns the mind. This looseness makes you foul in Adon's eye. If you will tempt me, let me in

your face Read blushfulness, and fear; a modest blush Would make your cheek seem much more beautiful. wert thou made of stone,

Ven.

I have heat to melt thee. I am Queen of love,
There is no practive art of dalliance

Of which I am not mistress, and can use.
I have kisses that can murder unkind words,
And strangle hatred, that the gall sends forth :
Touches to raise thee, were thy spirits half dead :
Words that can pour affection down thine ears.
Love me thou canst not choose, thou shalt not
choose.

Adon. Madam, you woo not well. Men covet not
These proffered pleasures, but love sweets denied.
These prostituted pleasures surfeit still,

Where's fear, or doubt, men sue with best good will.

Ven. Thou canst instruct the Queen of love in love.
Thou shalt not, Adon, take me by the hand ;
Yet, if thou needs wilt force me, there's my
palm.

I'll frown on him: alas! my brow 's so smooth,
It will not bear a wrinkle.-—Hie thee hence
Unto the chace, and leave me; but not yet;
I'll sleep this night upon Endymion's bank,
On which the swain was courted by the Moon.
Dare not to come, thou art in our disgrace;
Yet, if thou come, I can afford thee place.

PHOEBUS jeers VULCAN.

Vul. Good morrow, Phoebus, what's the news abroad?
For thou seest all things in the world are done,
Men act by day-light, or the sight of sun.
Phoeb. Sometime I cast my eye upon the sea,
To see the tumbling seal, or porpoise play;
There see I merchants trading, and their sails
Big-bellied with the wind; sea-fights sometimes
Rise with their smoke-thick clouds to dark my beams.
Sometimes I fix my face upon the earth,
With my warm fervour to give metals, trees,
Herbs, plants, and flowers, life; here in gardens
walk

Loose ladies with their lovers arm in arm.

Yonder the labouring ploughman drives his team.
Further, I may behold main battles pitch'd,
And whom I favour most (by the wind's help)
I can assist with my transparent rays.

Here spy I cattle feeding, forests there

Stor'd with wild beasts; here shepherds with their lasses,

Piping beneath the trees, whilst their flocks graze. In cities I see trading, walking, bargaining,

Buying, and selling, goodness, badness, all things, And shine alike on all.

Vul. Thrice happy Phoebus,

That, whilst poor Vulcan is confin'd to Lemnos, Hast every day these pleasures. What news else? Phoeb. No emperor walks forth, but I see his state, Nor sports, but I his pastimes can behold.

I see all coronations, funerals,

Marts, fairs, assemblies, pageants, sights, and shows.
No hunting, but I better see the chase
Than they that rouse the game.

What see not I?

There's not a window, but my beams break in,

No chink or cranny, but my rays pierce through;

And there I see, oh Vulcan, wondrous things:
Things that thyself, nor any god besides,
Would give belief to.

And, shall I tell thee, Vulcan, t' other day
What I beheld?—I saw the great god Mars.
Vul. God Mars!

Phoeb. As I was peeping through a cranny, abed.
Vul. Abed with whom?-some pretty wench, I

warrant..

Phoeb. She was a pretty wench.
Vul. Tell me, good Phoebus,

That when I meet him, I may flout god Mars;
Tell me, but tell me truly, on thy life.

Phob. Not to dissemble, Vulcan, 'twas thy wife!

The peers of Greece go in quest of HERCULES, and find him in woman's weeds, spinning with OMPHALE.

Jason. Our business was to Theban Hercules; 'Twas told us, he remain'd with Omphale, The Lydian queen.

Telamon. Speak, which is Omphale? or which Alcides? Pollux. Lady, our purpose was to Hercules;

Show us the man.

Omph. Behold him here.

Atreus. Where?

Omph. There, at his task.

Jas. Alas! this Hercules?

This is some base effeminate groom, not he That with his puissance frighted all the earth. Her. Hath Jason, Nestor, Castor, Telamon, Atreus, Pollux, all forgot their friend?

We are the man.

Jas. Woman, we know thee not.

We came to seek the Jove-born Hercules,
That in his cradle strangled Juno's snakes,
And triumph'd in the brave Olympic games.
He that the Cleonean lion slew,

IX.

257

R