love's Mistress: OR, The Queen's Masque.  
As it was three times presented before their two Excellent majesties, within the space of eight days; In the presence of sundry Foreign AMBASSADORS.  
Publicly Acted by the QUEENS comedians, At the Phoenix in Drury-lane.  
Written by THOMAS HEYWOOD.  
Autprodesse solent, aut delectare.—  
LONDON, Printed by Robert Raworth, for john Crouch; and are to be sold by Jasper Emery, at the sign of the Eagle and Child, In Paul's Churchyard. 1636.   

 
countenance of great men when there is frequent president, that the like have been Dedicated too, and entertained by Emperors, and the most Potent Princes of their times. If your Honour shall deign the acceptance of a plain man's love, and observance in this Presentment, as you grace the worke so you shall much incourage the Author, who humbly takes his leave of of your Lordship, with that borrowed from the excellent Poet Nemesianns. Egl. 1.  — Concinerent— 
Thomas Heywood.   

.  
 
taken from Apuleius, an excellent Morrall, if truely understood, and may be called a golden Truth, contained in a leaden fable, which though it be not altogether conspicuous to the vulgar, yet to those of Learning and judgement, no less apprehended in the Paraphrase, than approved in the Original: of which, if the perusers hereof were all Apuleians, and never a Midas amongst them, I should make no question: So much for the Subject it selfe, but for the rare decorements which new apparrell'd it, when it came the second time to the Royal view, (Her Gracious Majesty then entertaining His Highness at Denmarke-house, upon his Birthday) I cannot pretermit to give a due Charractar to that admirable Artist, Mr. Inego Iones, Master surueyor of the Kings work &c. Who to eery Act, nay almost to ever Sceane, by his excellent Inuentions, gave such an extraordinary Luster; upon every occasion changing the stage, to the admiration of all the Spectators: that, asI must Ingeniously confesse, It was above my apprehension to conceive, so their sacred Majesties, and the rest of the Auditory; It gave so generall a content, thatI presume they never parted from any object , presented in that kind, better please, or more plenally satisfied: But theseI leave to your Iudgements to gesse at; the thing it selfeI propose to your eyes, to censure, which if you Iudge as favourably asI expresse it freely,I shall ever remaine as heretofore  
Studious of your best opinions.THO.HEYWOOD THO. HEYWOOD   

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   


  

 
 
 
 
 
  

 
 
 
 
 
 
  

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

The Epilogue, spoken by Cupid, pointing to the several Planets.  

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

 
   

 

 
 
 
 
 
  

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

Dramatis Personae   
Loves Mistress.  

ACT. I.  

SCENE. I.  Enter Apuleius, with a pair of ass eares in his hand. 

HOw art thou Apuleius transform'd?  
Or else how cam'st thou metamorphis'd first  
Into an Asse? Why Why so dull a beast,  
Of slow, and so obtuse a memory?  
I had a brain aimed at inscrutable things,  
Beyond the Moon; what was sublunarie,  
methought was for my study all av mean;  
Therefore, I therefore was I thus transhaped:  
That knowing man who keeps not in his bounds,  
But pries into Heavens hidden mysteries  
Further than leave; his dulness is increast  
Ceaseth to be a man and so turns beast:  
And thus I fell, yet by the selfe same power  
That calls all human wisdom foolishness,  
Am once more to my pristine shape restored;  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
With whom my lost soul wandered in a mist,  
Knowing, of them thou art not counted lest;  
But first I'll show a story of mine own,  
Of Cupid's love to Psiche, sit and see't;  
I'll make thee then ingeniously confess▪  
Thy treason gainst the Muses majesty;  
Withal, not only whatsoever mine mine,  
But all true Poets raptures are divine.  Mi. 

Thou hast prevailed with me, by Pan I'll stay;  
But take heede Poet that your rimes be sound,  
Else with thine own ass ears thou shalt be crowned.   Ap. 

We two contend; Art heere, there Ignorance:  
be you the judges, we invite you all  
Unto this banquet academical.   Exeunt.  
Recorders. Enter Admetus, Menetius, Zelotis, Astioche, Petrea, Psiche. Ad. 

You peers and Daughters to th' Arcadian King,  
we have passed the great'st part of our pilgrimage;  
Listen, oh listen, for these sounds that guild  
The airs light wings, fanning through all our eares  
Immortal tunes; tell us we are arrived  
At sacred Delphos; see the burnished Spires  
Advance themselves to welcome our approach;  
The Temple gates stand ope, and that great Deitie  
Whose tongue speakes nothing lesse than Oracle,  
Attended by his Sibells, daines to appeare   Enter Apollo. knees 

Oh teach our knees with a most reverent touch  
To kiss this hallowed earth.   Zelo. 
Ladies kneel down.  Astio. 

And sir relate to fair Latona's son  
Why this religious voyage was attempted.   Ad. 

Daughters I shall:  
Sacred Apollo, god of Archery,  
Of Arts, of Physic, and of Poetry▪  
 
Like curled flames, hurling a most divine  
And dazzling splendour on these lesser fires,  
Which from thy guilt beams, when thy car retires,  
Kindle those tapers that lend eyes tonight:  
Oh thou that art the landlord of all light;  
Bridegroom to morning, day's eternal King,  
To whom Nine Muses in a sacred ring,  
In dances spherical, trip hand in hand,  
Whilst thy well-stringed harp their feet command;  
Great Delphian Priest, we to adore thy name  
Have burnt fat thighs of Bulls in hallowed flame,  
Whose savour wrapped in clouds of smoke and fire,  
To thy Starspangled palace durst aspire;  
Tell us who shall untie the Virgin zone  
Of the white-handed Psiche thee alone  
Of three most fair, is most unfortunate,  
All love, but none her love will celebrate  
With nuptial rights; what must of her betide  
Dread Phebus tell, to whom shall thee be.   Apol. 

Cloth Psyche in a mourning weed,  
Then lead and leave her on a hill,  
Where Venus' Doves their young ones feed,  
Her husband not of Humane race;  
But one, whose flaming sight doth kill,  
And yet wants eyes; his serpent's face  
If she behold, she must see hell;  
And yet by some notorious deed,  
Obtain a Patent from that place  
Never to die: Psyche farewell,  
Much joyed, much grieved; unclasp that spell.   Ex. Apollo. Ad. 

Much grieved, and yet much joyed, poor girl, I fear  
The scale of grief will weigh down that of cheer.   Mene. 

She must see hell; and yet she ne'er shall die;  
True, for hell's torments live eternally.   Asti. 
But father, no tongue shall her joys express.  Petre. 
Phoebus, thy words leave us all comfortless.  Psi. 
I must espouse a serpent, that's my hell.  Zelo. 

But since you never shall behold his face,  
Your torments cannot be too horrible.   Mene. 

Is't possible, by deeds impossible  
To attain the Crown of immortality:  
It cannot be; The mocking Phoebus leaves us,  
Always in clouds of darkness to deceive us.   Ad. 

Stay thy profane tongue, lest deserved wrath  
Strike thee with death from his revengeful sphere:  
Thou must be clothed in mourning, so thou art,  
A mourning habit, and a thought-sick heart;  
Thou must be left alone on Venus hill;  
The destinies decree, we must fulfil:  
Thy husband must want sight, and yet have eyes  
That flame, and kill; oh leave these mysteries  
Until the God's reveal them; come, let's hence:  
Change your Arcadian tunes to Lidian sounds,  
Sad notes are sweetest, where deep woe confounds.   Exeunt omnes. Recorders. Enter Venus. Ven. 
Cupid my son, where's he?  Within. Cup. 
Anon-forsooth.  Ven. 

I'll gather rods of roses, if you mock me  
With your anon-forsooth.   Within. Cup. 
Anon-forsooth.  Ven. 

Shall I be still thus vexed? still when my blood  
boil in the fire of anger, than this ape  
With purpose frets me.— Boy.   Enter Cupid. Cup. 
Anon-forsooth.  Ven. 
Will juno come, or Ceres?  Cup. 
juno lay lolling in my Uncle's lap.  Ven. 
Which Uncle?  Cup. 

Uncle Iove: I laughed outright  
To see how (wanton-like) with both her arms  
She clung about his neck; gave him ten kisses,  
Toyed with his locks, looked babies in his eyes,  
And swore she would not watch him when he went  
Amongst his wenches, if he'd turn away  
His saucy page, the smooth-faced Ganimed;  
The boy by chance upon her fan had spilled  
A cup of Nectar; oh how juno swore:  
I told my Aunt I'd give her a new fan,  
To let Jove's page be Cupid's servingman.   Ven. 
What's this to Venus' message, what said Iuno?  Cu. 

I asked her when she'd come, and in good sooth,  
she answered nothing but anon-forsooth.   Ven. 
And where was Ceres, what did she reply?  Cu. 

Ceres was binding garlands for God Pan,  
Of blue-bottles, and yellow pissabeds  
That grew amongst the Wheat, with which she crowned  
His forked brows, and wooed him with his horn  
To rouse the skipping satyrs, to go hunt  
A herd of swine that rooted up her corne:  
I asked her when she'd come, and in good sooth  
She sent me packing with anon forsooth.   Ven. 

I sent for Pan, and for Apollo too,  
What news from them?   Cu. 
They said they would be here immediately.  Enter Pan, and Apollo. Apo. 
Why in such haste hath Venus sent for us?  Ven. 

I sent for juno, and for Ceres too,  
But they'll not come.   Pan. 
Well, what's the news with you?  Ven. 

Have you not heard how Venus is contemned?  
Her Temples gazed at, but not trodded upon,  
Her stately hangings, and her pillows torn;  
Those rosy garlands that her statues crowned,  
Are withered, or else trampled on the ground;  
Those troops that flocked to Paphos to adore me,  
Shun Paphos now, and scornfully abhor me.   Pan. 

That's strange, for all beards up to th eares in love;  
Boys without beards get boys, and girls bear girls,  
Fine little rattle-babies, scarce thus high,  
Are now called wives; If long this hot world stand,  
we shall have all the earth turn Pigmy-land.   Ven. 
All honour Love, but none adore Loves Queen.  Apol. 
The injury is great; but from whence springs it?  Ven. 

From Psyche daughter to the Arcadian King;  
They call her Queen of Love, will know no other,  
And swear my Son shall kneel and call her mother.   Cup. 
But Cupid swears to make the jacks forsworn.  Apol. 
Will Citharea swallow this disgrace?  Pan. 
What shall Pan do in this?  Ven. 

Lend me your aids:  
If you meet Psiche, charge young Mercury  
To send me to her, or imprison her  
Till you have sent me word.   Apol. 
If this be all, Venus shall have her wish.  Pan. 

Pan by his upright horns and beard doth swear  
To hunt out Psiche; but if I do this,  
What will sweet Venus give me?   Ven. 

A sweet kiss;  
And Phoebus shall have one, Cupid another,  
Upon condition they will right those wrongs  
Which Psyche in her great pride throws on me:  
Draw from thy quiver a dull leaden shaft,  
And strike it through her bosom to her heart;  
Make her in Love, but let her proud eyes dote  
On some ill-shapen drudge, some ugly foole:  
Do this; I'll weave for thee a Coronet  
Of Roses, mixed with Berenices hair;  
And give thee my best chariot, and my Doves  
To hunt with on the earth; or in the air;  
Wilt thou do this my boy?   Cup. 
I will forsooth.  Ven. 
Nay do not mock me, wilt thou?  Cup. 
Yes indeed, Indeed I will forsooth.  Ven. 

Sweet lad adieu then:  
Apollo, Pan, revenge poor Venus' wrongs,  
Whilst I unyoke my silver team,  
To wanton on the bosom of yon stream.   Exit. Apol. 

Now she hath called me down unto the earth,  
I'll try what pastimes dwell amongst the swains.   Exit. Pan. 

And with my Satires I will have some sport  
Here in the Arcadian vallyes.   Exit. Cup. 

Shall Psyche's beauteous eyes gaze on base love?  
Noah, let my Mother storm, and chafe and lower,  
She shall be none but Cupid's Paramour:   Enter Zephirus. 

Ho Zephirus,—— how now thou puffing slave,  
Art thou grown proud, thou swellest so? Gentle wind,  
Clap on thy smoothest feathers, sleekest wings,  
And mount thee to the top of yonder rock,  
There shalt thou find anon, a forlorn maid,  
Convey her gently down into the vale  
That borders on my bower; see this performed,  
And I will clothe thee in a grass-green robe,  
Spotted with daisies, Pinks, and Marigolds;  
I'll play the thief in Floraes treasury,  
To make all eyes in love with Zephirus;  
fly hence, do this, and henceforth be thou King  
Of all the Winds, and father of the Spring.   Exeunt. Enter Admetus, Menetius, Zelotis, Astioche, Petrea, Psiche. Ad. 

Behold the foot of that unhappy rock,  
Upon whose frozen top, by Phoebus' doom,  
Thou must abide thy most sinister hap.   Astio. 
Dear sister Psyche.  Psi. 

Peace Astioche,  
Petrea, Father: you should all have mourned  
When the mad spirits of the multitude  
Kneeled down, and called me Venus, then have wept,  
When Cytharea's Altars were left bare,  
And I was called a goddess; when these tears,  
Whose reeking makes my funeral lights burn dim,  
Might have quenched Venus' wrath; but leave me now  
To fight with death, or meet worse misery.   Mene. 
But lurks that serpent in this fatal rock?  Pet. 
So said Apollo.  Zelo. 

Then Menetius,  
we will conduct fair Psiche to the cave,  
And rip the monsters entrails with our swords.   Psi. 

Forbear all force, I will ascend alone;  
Phoebus will be displeased; Alone said he,  
Distressed Psyche shall climb up yond hill.   Ad. 

The way is dangerous, thou wilt lose thyself  
Without a guide.   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

If thus I talk to them,— Who fills this wine,  
And tempts my eye with it? as who should say,  
Drink Psyche.   Eccho. 
Drink Psyche. 2. Drink Psyche. 3. Drink Psyche,  Psi. 

I'll taste no drop of this enchanted wine:  
Fain from this magic circle would I rise,  
av dare not; oh let Psyche see your eyes,  
Or rid me hence, and set my fears in peace.   Ecch. 
Peace. 2. Peace. 3. Peace.  Enter Cupid. Cup. 

How lovely is my Psyche; earth's too base  
To be possessed of her Celestial form:  
My Mother hates her; for the gods I fear  
Would banish her from earth, my Love being there;  
And therefore shall she live in Cupid's Bower,  
For she deserves to be Loves Paramour:  
Oh how my fair eyes wound me; by this kiss,  
And this white hand.   Psi. 

Oh me! what voice is this  
I feel? besides, soft fingers, and a ring.   Cup. 

Long white fingers; soft white hand,  
Ring and all at thy command.   Psi. 
Is this my husband then?  Cup. 

Ho Zephirus,  
Remove hence these Ambrosian dishes straight.   Zephirus takes off the Banquet. Psi. 

My father much mistake the Oracle;  
To this sweet voice, could I enjoy the sight,  
I should myself than style Queen of delight.   Cup. 

Pleasure shall be thy lackey; wilt thou hunt,  
Then in an airy chariot drawn by birds,  
On the winds downy back my love shall ride;  
Mild Zephirus shall be thy Waggoner;  
Who if the heat offend, his silver wings  
Shall fan cool air upon thee, yet my love,  
If thou committest one sin, thou art not mine.   Psi. 
Name it, and I'll avoid it for your sake.  Cu. 

Thy mourning sisters shortly will return,  
And seek thee on the rock from whence thou cam'st,  
But shun their sight and speech; Psyche do this,  
Thou robbest me else of Love, thyself of bliss.   Psi. 

Not speak nor see my sisters; oh what pleasure  
Can Psyche take, locked in a golden jail?   Cup. 

Run not unto thy ruin gentle love;  
Yet if thou needs wilt see and speak with them,  
Command my servant Zephirus to bring them  
From top of yonder rock into this veil;  
But if they make inquiry who I am,  
Fill both their laps with gold, and send them gone,  
Besides I woo thee by this nuptial kiss,  
Do not persuade me to disclose my shape,  
Attempting that, thou losest this high state;  
I then must leave thee, thou live desolate.   Psi. 
In all these things, I will obey my love.  Cup. 

Then Psyche, in thine unseen husband's hand  
Clasp thy white fingers; I'll now crown thy bed  
With the sweet spoils of thy lost Maidenhead.   Exeunt.  

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
I like him best.  Ap. 

That Midas, is thy brother,  
A piece of moving earth, illiterate, dull;  
Who having in himself nought commendable,  
envies what's good in others; and yet dare  
In his own impudence, with Arts compare:  
A block, a stone, yet learning he'll revile,  
And a dull Ignorant Ass we will him style.   Mi. 
But where's your Poet Ass among all these?  Dance and Exit. Ap. 
there's no such creature.  Mi. 

Then what call'st thou those  
That let not men lie quiet in their graves,  
But haunt their ghosts with ballads, and bald rhymes?  
Do they not teach the very fiends in hill  
Speak in blank verse; do we not daily see  
Every dull-witted Ass spit Poetry:  
And for thy Scene; thou bring'st here on the stage  
A young green-sickness baggage to run after  
A little ape-faced boy thou term'st a god;  
Is not this most absurd?   Ap. 

Misunderstanding fool, thus much conceive,  
Psyche is Anima, Psyche is the Soul,  
The Soul a Virgin, longs to be a bride,  
The soul's Immortal, whom then can she woo  
But Heaven? whom wed, but Immortality:  
Oh blame not Psyche then, if mad with rage,  
She long for this so divine marriage.   Mid. 

But tell me then, why should Apollo say,  
All love her, and yet none will marry her.   Ap. 

All love fair Psyche, all cast amorous eyes  
On the soul's beauty, but who is't will wed her?  
None with the foul will lead so strict a life  
As heaven enjoins, with such a blessed wife.   Mi. 

Thou promp'st my understanding pretty well;  
But why should Venus being Queen of Love,  
Wish her son Cupid to enamour her  
On some base groom misshapen, and deformed?   Ap. 

By Venus here, is meant untemperate lust;  
Lust woes her son Desire, to inflame the soul  
With some base groom, that's to some ugly sin;  
Desire is good and ill; the evil swears  
To obey his mother Venus, and vex Psyche:  
But Cupid representing true desire,  
Dotes on the Souls sweet beauty, sends his servant  
Zephirus; In whom, Celestial pleasure's meant,  
To entice his love, the Soul, to his chaste bed,  
Giving her heaven for her lost maidenhead.   Mi. 

Only one riddle more, and I have done;  
Why did the poor girl Psyche take such pains?  
What scrambling shift she made to climb the mountain,  
And crawl through brakes and briers to get a husband.   Ap. 

This shows how many strong adversities,  
Crosses, Pricks, Thorns, and stings of conscience,  
Would throw the ambitious soul affecting heaven,  
Into despair, and fainting diffidence,  
Which Psyche must pass through; the Soul must flie  
Through thousand lets, to seeke eternity.   Mi. 
Thou hast made this somewhat plain.  Ap. 

Kind Gentlemen,   
 
   

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Long flaxen curled tresses crown his head.  
Come, come, you shall not be enamoured  
On my fair husband; this for all suffice,  
he's young and rich.  Asti. 

Oh how my blood doth rise  
In envy of her high felicity; speak, what's his name?   Psi. 
Home, Home; more music there, I must to rest:  Recorders. Enter Zephirus with bags. 

Ho Zephirus, come forth, and bring me brimful bags of gold:  
Hold up your laps; though'them you cannot see  
That bring this gold, this largesse take from me;  
Adieu, adieu: my duty to the King,  
I needs must stop mine ears when sirens sing.   Exit. Petr. 
Astioche.  Asti. 

Petrea, oh, I am mad to note her pride;  
Her husband is no serpent as 'twas said,  
And false Apollo sung; he is some god,  
And this his Temple, for no mortal hand  
Hath laid these crystal pavements, clothed these meads  
In never-fading liveries of green;  
Flora you see clothes all the ground with flowers,  
Flora is Psyche's handmaid; Zephirus  
Is but her footboy, lackeys at her beck.   Petr. 

Yet she's our sister, and it doth me good  
To see rich worth in any of our blood.   Asti. 

Thou art a fool Petrea, for I hate  
That any's fortune should transcend my state;  
She sends us hence in scorn, but we'll return,  
And never cease, till by some treachery,  
Her pride we make a slave to misery.   Exeunt.  
Enter Admetus, Menetius, and Zelotis, Mene. 

Patience great sir, you have not lost them all,  
Doubtless the two last live.   Zelo. 

Sir though they be your daughters, theyare our wives,  
And we are in no such despair of them.   Ad. 

Admit you were one for Astioche,  
And that another for Petrea wept,  
You two, but for two wives shed husbands tears;  
For you and them, I sorrow all: your fears  
Divided betwixt you; on me alone,  
Lies like a mountain, and thus casteth down  
Admetus wretched body, with his crown;  
They followed Psyche and her destiny,  
hath given them death, us living misery.   Enter Evemore. Eve. 
Rise Royal Sir, your Daughters are returned.  Ad. 
Oh where, which way; are my two daughters come?  Eve. 
Yes sir, and both their laps are filled with gold.  Enter Astioche and Petrea. Ad. 

Wellcome to both in one; oh can you tell  
What fate your sister hath?   Both. 
Psyche is well.  Ad. 

So among mortals, it is often said,  
Children and friends are well, when they are dead.   Astio. 

But Psyche lives, and on her breath attends.  
Delights that far surmount all earthly joy;  
Music, sweet voices, and Ambrosian fare,  
Winds, and the light-winged creatures of the air;  
Clear channeled rivers, springs, and flowery meads,  
Are proud when Psiche wantons on their streams,  
When Psyche on their rich Embroidery treads,  
When Psyche guilds their Crystal with her beams;  
we have but seen our sister; and behold  
She sends us with our laps full brimmed with gold.   Adm. 
Oh, you amaze me Daughters.  Pet. 

Let joy banish amazement from your Kingly thoughts  
Psyche is wedded to some deity,  
And prays withal, our quick return again.   Ad. 

we grant it; we with you and these, will go  
To Psyche's bower; desire inflames my mind,  
To sit on the bright wings of that blessed wind.   Asti. 

Oh but the god that governs Psyche's thoughts;  
For sure he is Immortal; charged my sister  
To talk with none but us.   Petr. 

Yet by the magic of our tongues we'll try  
If we can win you so much liberty.   Ad. 

go my Astioche, but come again  
To comfort him that must thy want complain;  
Go with my love Petrea, but return  
With winged speed, whilst we your absence mourn;  
Go with my blessing; blessed those sisters be,  
That live like you in bonds of unity:  
Give Psyche this; give her thou this Petrea,  
Tell her she is myself, my soul's Idea,  
And say, whilst she is spotless, lovely white, Kisseth them.  
She shall be my sole comfort my delight:  
So part with my best wishes.   Enter Clown, with three or four Swains. Clo. 
And what might you call that young gentleman, that rules and reigns, revells and roares in these walkes of Arcadia, that makes you borrow sheep's eyes from your flocks, and leaves you no more braines in your heads then in your sheephooks? What might you call this gallant?  1. Swa. 
 2. Swa. 
 Clo. 
Cupid Coxcomb: your Satyrs are all sots, your Fawns fools, and your Pan a pitiful poor fellow; had I their horns( as I know not what I may have in time) I would  ΝΟΝΕ Swa. 
They say Bow and arrows.  Clo. 
Bow and bird-bolts does he not; and how lies he? where's his guard? what's his play? Can any of you all give me his true title  ΝΟΝΕ Swa. 
Not I 'tis far beyond mee.  Clo. 
Then harken oh you hoydes, and listen oh you Illiterates, whilst I give you his stile in Folio: He is King of cares, Prince of passions, prate-apaces, and pickled lovers; Duke of disasters, dissemblers, and drown'd eyes; Marquesse of moloncholy and mad-folks, grand Signior of griefs, and groans; Lord of lamentations, Hero of hie-hos, admiral of aymees, and monsieur of mutton-laced.  2. Swaine. 
here's a style I shall never be able to get over.  Clo. 
And who do you think maintains this princox in his Pontificalibus?  1. Swa 
Nay, it exceeds my capacity.  Clo. 
A company of pitiful fellows called Poets; did you never hear of one Homer, and of the Tale of Troy, and of a ten years siege, and many such trifles.  2. Swa. 
Yes, and many things concerning them.  Clown. 
But hear me, oh you miss of mis-understanding; This Troy was a village of some Twenty houses; and Priam, as silly a fellow as I am, onely loving to play the good fellow, he had a great many bousing lads; whom he called sons.  3. Swa 
As we have heere in Arcadia.  Clo 
just the same; by this Troy ran a small brook, that one might stride over; on the other side dwelt Menelaus a Farmer, who had a light wench to his Wife called Helen, that kept his sheep, whom Paris, one of Priams mad lads, seeing and liking, ticeth over the brook, and lies with her in despite of her husband's teeth; for which wrong, he sends for one Agamemnon his brother, that was then high Cunstable of the hundred, and complains to him: he sends to one Ulysses, a faire spoken fellow, and town-clerk, and to divers others, amongst whom was one stout fellow called Ajax, a Butcher, who upon a Holiday, brings a pair of cudgels, and lays them down in the midst, where the Two Hundreds were then met, which Hector a Baker, another bold lad of the other side seeing, steps foorth, and takes them up; these two had a bout or two for a broken pate; And here was all the circumstance of the Trojan Wars.  1. Swa. 
To see what these Poets can do.  Clown. 
But listen to them, and they will fill your heads with a thousand fooleries; observe one thing, there's none of you all sooner in love, but he is troubled with their itch, for he will be in his Amorets, and his Canzonets, his Pastorals, and his Madrigals, to his Phillis, and his Amarillis.  1. Swa. 
Oh beauteous Amorillis.  Clo. 
And what's Amarillis thinkst thou?  1. Swa, 
A fair and lovely creature.  Clo. 
I'll show thee the contrary by her own name, Amor is love, illis, is ill; is ill, cannot be good; Ergo Amorillis is stark nought; let one or two examples serve for more, there's one of our fairest nymphs called Susanna; what is Susanna, but Sus and anna, which is in plain Arcadia, Nan is a Sow.  2. Swa. 
Well, you have taught us more than ever I understood before, concerning Poetry.  Clown. 
Come to me but one hour in a morning, and I'll read deeper philosophy to you; good-morrow Neighbours; Poets, quoth 'a; What's Titule tu patule, but Titles and Pages; What's Propria que maribus, but a  man loves maribones, or Feminno generi tribiunter, but the Feminine Gender is troublesome; what's Ovid, but quasi avoid; now should I be in love, with whom? with Doll, what's that but Dole and lamentation, with Jug, what 's shee, but sister to a black-pot, or what's Pegg, good for nothing but to drive into post: no Cupid, I defy thee and all thy genealogy.  Enter Cupid. Cup. 

What's he that av profanes our deity?  
And scorns that power which all the gods adore;  
To whom jove sometimes bends, and Neptune kneels,  
Mars homageth, and Phoebus will submit,  
Sly Mercury obey, and Vulcan bow too;  
And all the rural gods and goddesses,  
tailors and nymphs, allow their sovereign;  
He shall not scape unpunished.   Clo. 
If I could but find one of these fantastical Poets, or light upon that little god their Patron, I would so tickle them.  Cup. 

This hobinall, this rustic, this base clown;  
I find him of a dull and brainless eye,  
Such as I know a golden-headed shaft  
Will never enter; of a skin so thick,  
As pointed silver hath no power to pierce:  
For such gross fools, I have a boult in store,  
Which though it cannot wound, shall give a blow,  
To startle all within him.   Shoots. Clo. 
Oh me, heigh-ho.  Cup. 

Lie there base Midas bastard, that refuses  
All-honoured love, and rail'st against the Muses.   Exit. Clo. 
Oh coward, whatsoever thou art, to come behind a man and strike him before, for I saw nobody— to shoot, and never give a man warning, oh coward, I am paid, I am peppered; the case is altered, for any one may guess by the hugeness of the blow, that I am mightily in love; ay—me, that any wench were here, whose name is Ayme, now could I be in love with any madge, though she were an owlet, or with any maid, though she looked like a Malkin; Oh Poetry, I find that I am poisoned with thee too; for methinks I could say my prayers in blank-verse, nay let me see, I think I could rhyme for a need;  

Cupid I yield, since so I know thy will is,  
And I'll go seek me out some Amarillis.   Exit. Enter Psiche alone. Psi. 

There's at this time a combat in my soul,  
Whether to trust my well-known sister's better,  
Or my yet unseen husband; I have asked,  
Demanded, and inquired of all my train,  
This fairy-train that hourly waits on me,  
Yet none of them will tell me what he is;   Enter Cupid. 

Besides, this solitude to be alone,  
Begins to grow most tedious, and my fears  
Do every way distract me.   Cup. 
Why how now Psyche?  Psi. 

Oh let Mercies eyes  
Shine on my fault.   Cup. 

Are these thy heaven-bound vows?  
Are all thy protestations guilded air?  
Hast thou no more regard to my command,  
Or thine own safety?   Psi. 
Dear love pardon me.  Cup. 

Once more I do; and still must pardon thee,  
And thou must still offend, still torture me;  
Yet once again I'll try thy constancy:  
Thy sisters are at hand.   Psi. 

But gentle Love,  
Shall I not speak to them?   Cup. 

Yes, but I woo thee  
To send them quickly hence, or they'll undo thee;  
They now are at the Rock, bid the cool wind  
To please thee, bring them to the place assigned.   Exit. Enter Zephirus with the two Sisters. Psi. 

Ho Zephirus,  
Tell me the cause of your so quick return?   Asti. 

Psyche we come with danger of our lives,  
To save our sister from ensuing harm.   Psi. 
What harm? What danger?  Asti. 

Danger eminent,  
Once you refused our Counsel, and denied  
To let us know your husband, or his name.   Petr. 
Come, let's see him.  Psi. 
Oh, what shall I do?  Petr. 
Escape the danger you are fallen acp-p.  Psi. 
You cannot see him.  Asti. 
Give us then his shape?  Psi. 

His shape, why he's a man whose snowy head  
Bows on his bosom, through the weight of age.   Asti. 

That cannot be; you said he was a youth  
Of comely stature, with long flaxen hair.   Psi. 
I am entrapped.  Asti. 
Speak, did you ever see your husband?  Psi. 

Why do you ask, pray trouble me no more;  
Leave me, and I will fill your laps with gold.   Asti. 

Once thy gold tempted us to leave this place,  
And to betray thy life to misery,  
It shall not now; did not Apollo doom  
Thy fatal marriage to some hideous beast;  
How just is Phoebus in his auguries;  
Last night, when we went hence laden with gold,  
we spied a serpent gliding on the mead,  
Who at the sight of us, writhing his head  
Proudly into the air, first hissed at heaven,  
Because it did not shade him from our eyes.   Psi. 
How did that serpent vanish from your sight?  Asti. 

In at these gates he rolled, Psyche be wise,  
For tho' a while he dally with thy beauty,  
Dulling thy taste with sweets, thy eyes with shows,  
Thy ears with music, and sweet lullabies,  
He will in time devour thee.   Psi. 

Miserable wretch,  
How shall I fly the fate that follows me?  
Whose help shall I invoke?   Petr. 

Tell us the truth,  
And we'll devise some means to succour thee.   Psi. 

You are my sisters, I confess to you,  
I never saw his face, know not his shape,  
Yet have I touched his eyes, and felt his hands  
Oft have I kissed his cheekesmore more his lips lips;  
Eyes, hands, lips, cheeksand face face so charm'd my touch,  
That I have sworn, save his, there were none such,  
Yet your strange story makes me to suspect  
That he's some serpent, for he tells me still,  
To see his glorious shape, will ruine me;  
Besides he bids me shun your company,  
else you will breed my sorrow; this is that  
Which troubles me.   Asti. 

Hear then my counsel; Instantly provide  
A keen-edged razor, and a burning lamp;  
At night, when sleep sits on his monstrous eyes,  
Steal from his speckled side, step to your light,  
And without fear behold his horrid shape,  
And with the razor cut his scaly throat;  
And so by death gain life, and he being dead,  
Psyche shall to some King be married.   Petr. 
How doth our sister relish this device?  Psi. 

I do embrace your council, and this night  
I'll put the same in execution;  
Come, you have made me resolute and bold,  
And now receive your laps o'erswelled with gold.   Exit. Asti. 

Swell in thy pride, until thou break'st thy heart,  
Yet come, we'll take her largesse ere we part.   Exit. Enter Midas and Apuleius. Mi. 

Poet no more; I have enough of Psyche;  
Her sisters and the serpent, all of them  
Most villainous lies, I'll prove it; and unlesse  
To please myself, and keep eyes from sleep sleepe,  
Thou'lt let me show thee some of our fine sport,  
Such as we use here in Arcadia,  
I will endure no longer.   Ap. 
Well, I am pleased.  Mi. 
I'll show thee in a dance.  Ap. 
Art sometimes must give way to ignorance.  A DANCE. Enter Pan, Clown, Swains, and Country-wenches; They Dance, and Exit. Mi. 
Was not this sport indeed?  Ap. 

My modesty gives thee no reprehension,  
For I am well pleased with your Pastoral mirth,  
But as thou hadst a power over mine eyes,  
To sit it out with patience; so lend me  
Thy attentive ears.   Mi. 

First clear thy absurdities,  
Nay, gross ones too; here Psyche lies abominably,  
And says she has two husbands, the one young,  
The other old: How canst thou answer this?   Ap. 

Though thy vain doubts be most familiar  
To these judicious hearers, well experienced,  
As well in matters Moral as Divine;  
To thee I'll make it plain.   Mi. 
I prithee do.  Ap. 

Did Psyche lie to say she had two loves?  
How like art thou to Psyche, she to thee.   Mi. 
To me, I scorn her likeness.  Ap. 

In this point thou art,  
For rather then thy sisters shall grow angry,  
To make earth's drossy pleasures stay for thee,  
Thou wilt exclaim with Psyche, Cupid's young;  
The joys of heaven are all too young, too little  
To be believed or looked at; if that fail,  
Thou with the soul wilt say, my love is old,  
Divine delights are crooked like old age,  
Who will not vow, speak, nay swear any thing,  
To have their vain delights served like a king.   Mi. 

'Tis pretty, but your Echoes pleased me best;  
Oh if a man had seen them.   Ap. 

With a mortal eye none can; in them is hid this mystery;  
Celestial raptures, that to allure the sight,  
Are seen no more than voices being on high,  
Subject unto no weak, and fleshly eye.   Mi. 
But why did Cupid hide himself from Psyche?  Ap. 

Oh who dares pry into those mysteries,  
That heaven would have concealed; for this she's charged  
Not to see Cupid's face, to shun her sisters.   Mi. 
Those gadding girls, what did'st thou mean by them?  Ap. 

The restless sins that travel night and day,  
Envying her bliss, the sweet soul to betray.   Mi. 

Well, by this little I conceive the rest,  
I care not greatly if I stay it out,  
But if not liked, I'll either sleep or flout.   Alp. 

So will not these I hope, before they view  
What horrid dangers Cupid's bride pursue.   Exeunt.  
FINIS.