Let Welcome fill

And run into one sound.

Our thoughts, hearts, voices, and that one word thrill

Through all our language, Welcome, Welcome still!

1 Ten. Could we put on the beauty of all creatures 2 Ten. Sing in the air, and notes of nightingales, 1 Ten. Exhale the sweets of earth, and all her fea

tures,

2 Ten. And tell you, softer than in silk, these tales; Welcome should season all for taste.

Bas.

At every real banquet to the sense,

Welcome, true welcome, fill the compliments.

After the Banquet,

The King and Queen being retired, were entertained with a DANCE of Mechanics.

Enter Coronel VITRUVIUS speaking to some without. Vit. Come forth, boldly put forth, in your holiday clothes, every mother's son of you. This is the king and queen's majestical holiday. My lord has it granted from them; I had it granted from my lord; and do give it unto you gratis, that is, bona fide, with the faith of a surveyor, your coronel Vitruvius. you know what a surveyor is now? I tell you, a supervisor. A hard word that; but it may be softened, and brought in, to signify something. An overseer! one that overseeth you. A busy man! and yet I must seem busier than I am, as the poet

Do

sings, but which of them I will not now trouble myself to tell you.

Enter captain SMITH, (or VULCAN,) with three Cyclops. O captain Smith! or hammer-armed Vulcan! with your three sledges, you are our music, you come a little too tardy, but we remit that to your polt-foot, we know you are lame. Plant yourselves there, and beat your time out at the anvil. Time and Measure are the father and mother of music, you know, and your coronel Vitruvius knows a little.

Enter CHESIL the carver; MAUL the free-mason; squire SUMMER the carpenter; TWYBIL his man. O Chesil, our curious carver! and master Maul our free-mason; squire Summer our carpenter; and Twybil his man; stand you four there, in the second rank, work upon that ground.

Enter DRESSER the plumber; QUARREL the glazier; FRET the plaisterer; BEATER mortar-man.

And you, Dresser the plumber; Quarrel the glazier; Fret the plaisterer; and Beater the mortar-man: put all you on in the rear; as finishers in true footing, with tune and measure. Measure is the soul of a dance, and tune the tickle-foot thereof. Use holiday legs, and have 'em; spring, leap, caper, and gingle: pumps and ribands shall be your reward, till the soles of your feet swell with the surfeit of your light and nimble motion. [Here they began to dance.

Well done, my musical, arithmetical, geometrical gamesters! or rather my true mathematical boys! it is carried in number, weight, and measure, as if the airs were all harmony, and the figures a well-timed proportion! I cry still, deserve holidays, and have

'em.

I'll have a whole quarter of the year cut out

for you in holidays, and laced with statute-tunes and dances, fitted to the activity of your tressels, to which you shall trust, lads, in the name of your Iniquo Vitruvius,' Hey for the lily, for, and the blended rose. Here the dance ended, and the Mechanics retired.

The King and Queen had a second banquet set down before them from the clouds by two Loves, EROS and ANTEROS: one as the king's, the other as the queen's, differenced by their garlands only; his of white and red roses, the other of lilies interweaved, gold, silver, purple, &c., with a bough of palm in his hand cleft a little at the top; they were both armed and winged; with bows and quivers, cassocks, breeches, buskins, gloves and perukes alike. They stood silent a while, wondering at one another, till at last the lesser of them began to speak. Er. Another Cupid!

An. Yes, your second self,

A son of Venus, and as mere an elf

And wag as you.

Er. Eros?

An. No, Anteros:

Your brother Cupid, yet not sent to cross,

Or

spy into your favours here at court.

Er. What then?

An. To serve you, brother, and report

Your graces from the queen's side to the king's,
In whose name I salute you.

Er. Break my wings

I fear you will.

1 Iniquo Vitruvius.] This miserable pun upon Inigo, is copied by the poet's friend, Philip, earl of Pembroke, in some angry remarks upon Jones, written in the margin of his work on Stonehenge.

An. O be not jealous, brother!
What bough is this?
Er. A palm.

An. Give't me.

Er. Another

You may have.

An. I will this.

Er. Divide it.

[Snatches at the palm.

[He divides it, and gives ANTEROS a part.

An. So,
This was right brother-like! the world will know
By this one act, both natures. You are Love,
I Love, again. In these two spheres we move,
Eros and Anteros.

Er. We have cleft the bough,

And struck a tally of our loves too now.

An. I call to mind the wisdom of our mother
Venus, who would have Cupid have a brother-
Er. To look upon and thrive. Me seems I
Three inches higher since I met with you.
It was the counsel that the oracle gave
Your nurses, the glad Graces, sent to crave
Themis' advice. You do not know, quoth she,
The nature of this infant. Love may be
Brought forth thus little, live awhile alone,
But ne'er will prosper, if he have not one
Sent after him to play with, such another
As you are, Anteros, our loving brother.

grew

Án. Who would be always planted in your eye; For love by love increaseth mutually.

Er. We either, looking on each other, thrive.
An. Shoot up, grow galliard-

Er. Yes, and more alive!

An. When one's away, it seems we both are less. Er. I was a dwarf, an urchin, I confess,

Till you were present.

An. But a bird of wing,

Now fit to fly before a queen or king.

Er. I have not one sick feather since you came, But turn'd a jollier Cupid,

An. Than I am.

Er. I love my mother's brain, could thus provide For both in court, and give us each our side,

Where we might meet.

An. Embrace.

Er. Circle each other.

An. Confer and whisper.

Er. Brother with a brother.

An. And by this sweet contention for the palm, Unite our appetites, and make them calm. Er. To will, and nill one thing.

An. And so to move

Affection in our wills, as in our love.

Er. It is the place, sure, breeds it, where we are. An. The king and queen's court, which is circular, And perfect.

Er. The pure school that we live in,

And is of purer love, a discipline.2

Enter PHILALETHES.

No more of your poetry, pretty Cupids, lest presuming on your little wits, you profane the intention of your service. The place, I confess, wherein (by the providence of your mother Venus) you are now planted, is the divine school of Love: an academy or court, where all the true lessons of Love are thoroughly read and taught. The reasons, the pro

2 We have already had this fable in the Tilting at a Marriage. There is not much to be said of it here. In fact, these effusions, which attended the king in his progresses, and which perhaps came upon him unexpectedly, are merely little artifices of love and duty on the part of the noble hosts, to keep their sovereign with them as long as possible, and should not be too rigorously judged: they are, as Jonson says, “suddenly thought upon."