So nimble, and so full of subtle flame,

As if that every one (from whence they came)
Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest;

And had resolved to live a fool, the rest

Of his dull life! Then, when there hath been thrown

Wit able enough to justify the Town

For three days past! Wit, that might warrant be For the whole City to talk foolishly

Till that were cancelled! And, when we were gone, We left an air behind us; which alone

Was able to make the two next companies

Right witty! though but downright fools, more wise!

tack about, and take advantage of all winds, by the quickness of his Wit and Invention.'

2. THOMAS CORYATE, at p. 37 of his Traveller for the English Wits, Greeting, London, 1616, 4to, addresses a letter from Ajmere, dated Wednesday, November 8, 1615 [O. S.]:

'To the High Seneschal of the Right Worshipful Fraternity of Sirenaical Gentlemen, that meet the first Friday of every month, at the sign of the Mermaid, in Bread Street, in London; '

and thus concludes it:

'The Gentleman that bringeth this letter unto you, was Preacher to the English Merchants conversant at the Court of the aforesaid mighty Monarch, in the town of Ajmere, in this Eastern India: and in divers

loving offices hath been so kind unto me, that I intreat your generosities to entertain him friendly for my sake; to exhilarate him with the purest quintessence of the Spanish, French, and Rhenish

grape, which the Mermaid yieldeth; and either one in the name of you all, or else the total universality of the one after another, to thank him heartily, according to the quality of his merits. Farewell, noble Sirenaicks!'

3. It is interesting also to remember that, from 1608 onwards, in this same Bread Street, London, JOHN MILTON was living as a little child.

4. What a confluence of gifted minds did those first Fridays of the months witness in that street! SHAKESPEARE, MILTON, JONSON, BEAUMONT, FLETCHER, &C., &c.

When I remember this, and see that now
The Country Gentlemen begin to allow
My wit for dry bobs; then I needs must cry,
'I see my days of Ballating grow nigh!'
I can already riddle; and can sing
Catches, sell bargains: and I fear shall bring
Myself to speak the hardest words I find,
Over as oft as any, with one wind,

That takes no medicines! But one thought of thee
Makes me remember all these things to be
The wit of our young men! fellows that show
No part of good; yet utter all they know !
Who, like trees of the Guard, have growing souls.
Only strong Destiny, which all controls,

I hope hath left a better fate in store
For me, thy friend! than to live ever poor,
Banished unto this home! Fate, once again,
Bring me to thee! who canst make smooth and plain
The Way of Knowledge for me; and then I
(Who have no good, but in thy company!)
Protest it will, my greatest comfort be,
To acknowledge all I have, to flow from thee!

BEN, when these Scenes are perfect, we'll taste wine! I'll drink thy Muse's health! thou shalt quaff mine!

[It has been thought that BEN JONSON's poem on page 214 was his reply to this poetical Letter of BEAUMONT to him.-E. A.]

THE MASQUE.

NIGHT RISES IN MISTS.

OUR reign is come! For in the raging sea,
The SUN is drowned; and, with him, fell the DAY!
Bright CYNTHIA, hear my voice! I am the NIGHT!
For whom thou bear'st about thy borrowed light.
Appear! No longer thy pale visage shroud!
But strike thy silver horns quite through a cloud;
And send a beam upon my swarthy face!
By which I may discover all the place

And persons;
and how many longing eyes
Are come to wait on our Solemnities.

[Enter CYNTHIA.] How dull and black am I! I could not find This beauty without thee; I am so blind! Methinks, they shew like to those eastern streaks That warn us hence, before the Morning breaks. Back, my pale servant! for these eyes know how To shoot far more, and quicker, rays than thou!

CYNTHIA.

Great Queen! they be a troop, for whom alone, One of my clearest moons I have put on!

A troop that looks as if thyself and I

Had plucked our reins in, and our whips laid by To gaze upon these mortals; that appear Brighter than we!

NIGHT.

Then let us keep them here;

And never more our chariots drive away!
But hold our places, and outshine the DAY!

CYNTHIA.

Great Queen of Shadows! you are pleased to speak Of more than may be done! We may not break The Gods' decrees; but, when our time is come, Must drive away! and give the DAY our room.

Yet, whilst our reign lasts, let us stretch our power
To give our servants one contented hour!
With such unwonted solemn grace and State,
As may, for ever after, force them hate

Our brother's glorious beams; and wish the night,
Crowned with a thousand stars, and our cold light.
For almost all the world their service bend
To PHŒBUS and in vain my light I lend!
Gazed on, unto my sitting from my rise,
Almost of none, but of unquiet eyes.

NIGHT.

Then, shine at full, fair Queen! and by thy power Produce a birth, to crown this happy hour

Of Nymphs and Shepherds! Let their Songs discover, Easy and sweet, who is the happy Lover!

Or if thou woo 't, then call thine own ENDYMION From the sweet flow'ry bed he lies upon,

On Latmus' top! thy pale beams drawn away;
And of this long night, let him make this day!

CYNTHIA.

Thou dream'st, dark Queen! That fair boy was not mine;

Nor went I down to kiss him! Ease and wine Have bred these bold tales! Poets, when they rage, Turn Gods to men; and make an hour, an Age!

CUPID, pardon what is past;

And forgive our sins at last!
Then we will be coy no more;
But thy deity adore!

Troths, at fifteen we will plight!
And will tread a dance, each night,
In the fields, or by the fire,
With the youths that have desire!

Given earrings, we will wear!
Bracelets of our Lovers' hair;
Which they on our arms shall twist,
With their names carved, on our wrist.
All the money that we owe [own],
We in tokens will bestow!

And learn to write that (when 'tis sent)
Only our Loves know what is meant!
O, then pardon what is past;
And forgive our sins at last!