To all the plumbers and the pewterers,
And buy their tin and lead up; and to Lothbury,
For all the copper.

Sur. What, and turn that too?

Mam. Yes, and I'll purchase Devonshire and Corn-
wall,

And make them perfect Indies! You admire now?
Sur. No, faith.

Mam. But when you see the effects of the great

medicine !

Of which one part projected on a hundred
Of Mercury, or Venus, or the Moon,
Shall turn it to as many of the Sun;
Nay, to a thousand, so ad infinitum:

You will believe me.

Sur. Yes, when I see't, I will.
Mam. Ha! why,

Do you think I fable with you? I assure you,
He that has once the flower of the Sun,

The perfect Ruby, which we call Elixir,
Not only can do that, but by its virtue
Can confer honour, love, respect, long life,
Give safety, valour, yea, and victory,

To whom he will. In eight-and-twenty days
I'll make an old man of fourscore a child.
Sur. No doubt; he's that already.
Mam, Nay, I mean,

Restore his years, renew him like an eagle,

To the fifth age; make him get sons and daughters,
Young giants, as our philosophers have done

(The ancient patriarchs afore the flood),

By taking, once a-week, on a knife's point,
The quantity of a grain of mustard of it,
Become stout Marses, and beget young Cupids.
Sur. The decay'd vestals of Pickt-hatch would
thank you,

That keep the fire alive there.

Mam. "Tis the secret

Of nature naturised 'gainst all infections,
Cures all diseases, coming of all auses;
A month's grief in a day; a year's in twelve;
And of what age soever, in a month:
Past all the doses of your drugging doctors.
I'll undertake withal to fright the plague

Out o' the kingdom in three months.

Sur. And I'll

Be bound the players shall sing your praises,

then,

Without their poets.

Mam. Sir, I'll do't. Meantime,

I'll give away so much unto my man,

Shall serve the whole city with preservative
Weekly; each house his dose, and at the rate-
Sur. As he that built the water-work does with

water!

Mam. You are incredulous.

Sur. Faith, I have a humour,

I would not willingly be gull'd. Your Stone
Cannot transmute me.

Mam. Pertinax Surly,

Will you believe antiquity? Records?

I'll show you a book, where Moses, and his sister,
And Solomon, have written of the Art!
Ay, and a treatise penn'd by Adam.

Sur. How?

Which was no other than a book of Alchemy,
Writ in large sheep-skin, a good fat ram-vellum.
Such was Pythagoras' Thigh, Pandora's Tub,
And all that fable of Medea's charms,
The manner of our work: the bulls, our furnace,
Still breathing fire: our Argent-vive, the Dragon :
The Dragon's teeth, Mercury sublimate,
That keeps the whiteness, hardness, and the biting:
And they are gather'd into Jason's helm
(Th' Alembick), and then sow'd in Mars his field,
And thence sublim'd so often, till they are fix'd.
Both this, the Hesperian Garden, Cadmus' Story,
Jove's Shower, the Boon of Midas, Argus' Eyes,
Boccace his Demogorgon, thousands more,
All abstract riddles of our Stone.

THE COURT MASQUES OF THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY

The courts of James I. and Charles I., while as yet danger neither existed nor was anticipated, were enlivened by the peculiar theatrical entertainment called the Masque-a trifle, or little better, in itself, but which has derived particular interest from the genius of Jonson and Milton. The origin of the masque is to be looked for in the 'revels' and 'shows' which, during the fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth centuries, were presented on high festive occasions at court, in the inns of the lawyers, and at the universities, and in those mysteries and moralities which were the earliest forms of the spoken drama. Henry VIII., in his earlier and better days, had frequent entertainments, consisting of a set of masked and gaily-dressed characters, or of such representations as the following: In the hall of the palace at Greenwich, a castle was reared, with numerous towers and gates, and every appearance of preparation for a long siege, and inscribed, Le fortresse dangereux; it was defended by six richly-dressed ladies; the king and five of his courtiers then entered in the disguise of knights, and attacked the castle, which the ladies, after a gallant resistance, surrendered, the affair concluding with a dance of the ladies and knights. Here there was nothing but scenery and pantomime; by and by, poetical dialogue, song, and music, were added; and when the masque had reached its height in the reigns of James and the first Charles, it employed the first talent of the country in its composition, and, as Bacon remarks, being designed for princes, was by princes played.

Masques were generally prepared for some remarkable occasion, as a coronation, the birth of a young prince or noble, a peer's marriage, or the visit of some royal personage of foreign countries; and they usually took place in the hall of the palace. Many of them were enacted in that banqueting room at Whitehall, through which a prince, who often took part in them, afterwards walked to the scaffold. Allegory and mythology were the taste of that age: we wonder at the fact, but we do not perhaps sufficiently allow for the novelty of classical imagery and characters in those days, and it may be only a kind of prejudice, or the effect of fashion, which makes us so rigorously banish from our literature allusions to

Mam. Of the Philosopher's Stone, and in High the poetic beings of Grecian antiquity; while we con

Dutch.

tentedly solace ourselves in contemplating, through what are called historical novels, the much ruder, and perhaps not more truly represented, personages of the middle ages. The action of a masque was always something short and simple; and it is easy to see that, excepting where very high poetical and musical talent was engaged, the principal charm must have lain in the elegance of the dresses and decorations, and the piquancy of a constant reference from the actors in

'Gainst cobwebs. I have a piece of Jason's fleece too, their assumed, to the actors in their real characters

Usually, besides gods, goddesses, and nymphs from classical antiquity, there were such personages as Night, Day, Beauty, Fortitude, and so forth; but though the persons of the drama were thus removed from common life, the reference of the whole business of the scene to the occasion which had called it forth, was as direct as it could well be, and even ludicrously so, particularly when the object was to pay a compliment to any of the courtly audience. This, however, was partly justified by the private character of the entertainment; and it is easy to conceive that, when a gipsy stepped from the scene, and, taking the king's hand, assigned him all the good fortune which a loyal subject should wish to a sovereign, there would be such a marked increase of sensation in the audience, as to convince the poet that there lay the happiest stroke of his play.

On the second night, a castle is presented in the hall, and Peace comes in riding in a chariot drawn by an elephant, on which sits Friendship. The latter pronounces a speech on the event of the preceding evening, and Peace is left to dwell with Prudence and Temperance. The third night showed Disdain on a wild boar, accompanied by Prepensed Malice, as a serpent, striving to procure the liberation of Discord and False Report, but opposed successfully by Courage and Discretion. At the end of the fight, Disdain shall run his ways, and escape with life, but Prepensed Malice shall be slain; signifying that some ungodly men may still disdain the perpetual peace made between these two virtues ; but as for their prepensed malice, it is easy trodden under these ladies' feet.' The second night ends with a flowing of wine from conduits, during which time the English lords shall mask with the Scottish ladies: the third night terminates by the six or eight ladies masquers singing a song as full of harmony as may be devised.' The whole entertainment indicates a sincere desire of reconciliation on the part of Elizabeth; but the first scene-a prison -seems strangely ominous of the events which fol

Mr Collier, in his Annals of the Stage, has printed a document which gives a very distinct account of the court masque, as it was about the time when the drama arose in England; namely, in the early years of Elizabeth. That princess, as is well-known, designed an amicable meeting with Mary Queen of Scots, which was to have taken place at Nottingham castle, in May 1562, but was given up in conse-lowed six years after. quence, as is believed, of the jealousy of Elizabeth regarding the superior beauty of Mary. A masque was devised to celebrate the meeting and entertain the united courts, and it is the poet's scheme of this entertainment, docketed by Lord Burleigh, to which reference is now made. The masque seems to have been simply an acted allegory, relating to the circumstances of the two queens; and it throws a curious light not only upon the taste, but upon the political history of the period. We give the procedure of the first night.

First, a prison to be made in the hall, the name whereof is Extreme Oblivion, and the keeper's name thereof Argus, otherwise called Circumspection: then a masque of ladies to come in after this sort:

First Pallas, riding upon an unicorn, having in her hand a standard, in which is to be painted two ladies' hands, knit in one fast within the other, and over the hands, written in letters of gold, Fides.

Then two ladies riding together, the one upon a golden lion with a crown of gold on his head, the other upon a red lion, with the like crown of gold; signifying two virtues; that is to say, the lady on the golden lion is to be called Prudentia, and the lady on the red lion Temperantia.

After this, to follow six or eight ladies masquers, bringing in captive Discord and False Report, with ropes of gold about their necks. When these have marched about the hall, then Pallas to declare before the queen's majesty, in verse, that the goddess, understanding the noble meeting of these two queens, hath willed her to declare unto them that those two virtues, Prudentia and Temperantia, have made great and long suit unto Jupiter, that it would please him to give unto them False Report and Discord, to be punished as they think good; and that those ladies have now in their presence determined to commit them fast bound unto the aforesaid prison of Extreme Oblivion, there to be kept by the aforesaid jailor Argus, otherwise Circumspection, for ever, unto whom Prudentia shall deliver a lock, whereupon shall be written In Eternum. Then Temperantia shall likewise deliver unto Argus a key, whose name shall be Nunquam, signifying that, when False Report and Discord are committed to the prison of Extreme Oblivion, and locked there everlastingly, he should put in the key to let them out nunquam [never]; and when he hath so done, then the trumpets to blow, and the English ladies to take the nobility of the strangers, and dance.'

The masque, as has been stated, attained the zenith of its glory in the reign of James I., the most festive known in England between those of Henry VIII. and Charles II. The queen, the princes, and nobles and ladies of the highest rank, took parts in them, and they engaged the genius of Jonson, Inigo Jones, and Henry Lawes, each in his various department of poet, machinist, and musician; while no expense was spared to render them worthy of the place, the occasion, and the audience. It appears from the accounts of the Master of Revels, that no less than £4215 was lavished on these entertainments in the first six years of the king's reign. Jonson himself composed twenty-three masques; and Dekker, Middleton, and others of the leading dramatic authors, Shakspeare alone excepted, were glad to contribute in this manner to the pleasures of a court whose patronage was so essential to them.

The marriage of Lord James Hay to Anne, daughter and heir of Lord Denny, January 6th, 1607, was distinguished at court (Whitehall) by what was called the Memorable Masque, the production of Dr Thomas Campion, an admired musician as well as poet of that day, now forgotten. On this occasion, the great hall of the palace was fitted up in a way that shows the mysteries of theatrical scenery and decoration to have been better understood, and carried to a greater height, in that age, than is generally supposed. One end of the hall was set apart for the audience, having the king's seat in the centre; next to it was a space for ten concerted musicians-base and mean lutes, a bandora, a double sackbut, a harpsichord, and two treble violins-besides whom there were nine violins, three lutes, six cornets, and six chapel singers. The stage was concealed by a curtain resembling dark clouds, which being withdrawn, disclosed a green valley with green round about it, and in the midst of them nine golden ones of fifteen feet high. The bower of Flora was on their right, the house of Night on the left; between them a hill hanging like a cliff over the grove. The bower of Flora was spacious, garnished with flowers and flowery branches, with lights among them; the house of Night ample and stately, with black columns studded with golden stars; while about it were placed, on wires, artificial bats and owls continually moving. As soon as the king entered the great hall, the hautboys were heard from the top of the hill and from the wood, till

Flora and Zephyrus were seen busily gathering with roses, wedding garments, rocks, and spindles, flowers from the bower, throwing them into baskets hearts transfixed with arrows, others flaming, virwhich two sylvans held, attired in changeable | gins' girdles, garlands, and worlds of such like.' taffety. Besides two other allegorical characters, Night and Hesperus, there were nine masquers, representing Apollo's knights, and personated by young men of rank.

After songs and recitative, the whole vale was suddenly withdrawn, and a hill with Diana's tree discovered. Night appeared in her house with Nine Hours, apparelled in large robes of black taffety, painted thick with stars; their hair long, black, and spangled with gold; on their heads coronets of stars, and their faces black. Every Hour bore in his hand a black torch painted with stars, and lighted.

Night. Vanish, dark vales, let night in glory shine,
As she doth burn in rage; come, leave our shrine,
You black-haired hours, and guide us with your lights,
Flora hath wakened wide our drowsy sprites.
See where she triumphs, see her flowers are thrown,
And all about the seeds of malice sown;
Despiteful Flora, is't not enough of grief,

That Cynthia's robbed, but thou must grace the thief?
Or didst not hear Night's sovereign queen1 complain
Hymen had stolen a nymph out of her train,
And matched her here, plighted henceforth to be
Love's friend and stranger to virginity?
And mak'st thou sport for this?

Flora. Be mild, stern Night;

Flora doth honour Cynthia and her right;

The nymph was Cynthia's while she was her own,

But now another claims in her a right,

By fate reserved thereto, and wise foresight.

Enter Venus in her chariot, attended by the Graces,
and delivers a speech expressive of her anxiety to
recover her son Cupid, who has run away from her.
The Graces then make proclamation as follows:-
1st Grace. Beauties, have you seen this toy,
Called love, a little boy,
Almost naked, wanton, blind;
Cruel now, and then as kind
If he be amongst ye, say;
He is Venus' runaway.

2d Grace. She that will but now discover
Where the winged wag doth hover,
Shall to-night receive a kiss,
How or where herself would wish ;
But who brings him to his mother,
Shall have that kiss, and another.

3d Grace. He hath marks about him plenty;
You shall know him among twenty.
All his body is a fire,

And his breath a flame entire,
That, being shot like lightning in,
Wounds the heart but not the skin.

1st Grace. At his sight the sun hath turn'd,
Neptune in the waters burn'd;
Hell hath felt a greater heat;
Jove himself forsook his seat;
From the centre to the sky
Are his trophies reared high.

Zephyrus. Can Cynthia one kind virgin's loss be- 2d Grace. Wings he hath, which though ye clip,

moan?

How, if perhaps she brings her ten for one? *

After some more such dialogue, in which Hesperus takes part, Cynthia is reconciled to the loss of her

He will leap from lip to lip,
Over liver, lights, and heart,
But not stay in any part;
And if chance his arrow misses,
He will shoot himself in kisses.

nymph; the trees sink, by means of enginery, under 3d Grace. He doth bear a golden bow,

the stage, and the masquers come out of their tops

to fine music. Dances, processions, speeches, and songs follow, the last being a duet between a Sylvan

and an Hour, by the way of tenor and bass.

Syl. Tell me, gentle Hour of Night,

Wherein dost thou most delight

Hour. Not in sleep. Syl. Wherein, then?

Hour. In the frolic view of me..

Syl. Lov'st thou music? Hour. Oh, 'tis sweet.

Syl. What's dancing? Hour. Even the mirth of feet.

Syl. Joy you in fairies and in elves?

Hour. We are of that sort ourselves :

But, Sylvan, say, why do you love
Only to frequent the grove?

Syl. Life is fullest of content,

Where delight is innocent.

Hour. Pleasure must vary, not be long; Come, then, let's close and end our song.

Then the masquers made an obeisance to the king, and attended him to the banqueting room.

And a quiver hanging low,
Full of arrows, that outbrave
Dian's shafts; where, if he have
Any head more sharp than other,
With that first he strikes his mother.

1st Grace. Still the fairest are his fuel.
When his days are to be cruel,

Lovers' hearts are all his food,
And his baths their warmest blood;
Nought but wounds his hand doth season,
And he hates none like to Reason.

2d Grace. Trust him not; his words, though sweet,
Seldom with his heart do meet.

All his practice is deceit ;

Every gift it is a bait ;
Not a kiss but poison bears;
And most treason in his tears.

3d Grace. Idle minutes are his reign;

Then the straggler makes his gain,
By presenting maids with toys,
And would have ye think them joys;
"Tis the ambition of the elf

To have all childish as himself.

1st Grace. If by these ye please to know him,
Beauties, be not nice, but show him.

The masques of Jonson contain a great deal of fine poetry, and even the prose descriptive parts are remarkable for grace and delicacy of language-as, for instance, where he speaks of a sea at the back of a scene, catching the eye afar off with a wander ing beauty. In that which was produced at the marriage of Ramsay, Lord Haddington, to Lady 2d Grace. Though ye had a will to hide him, Elizabeth Ratcliff, the scene presented a steep red cliff, topped by clouds, allusive to the red cliff from which the lady's name was said to be derived; before which were two pillars charged with spoils of love, amongst which were old and young persons bound

1 Diana.

3d Grace.

Now, we hope, ye'll not abide him.
Since you hear his falser play,
And that he 's Venus' runaway.
Cupid enters, attended by twelve boys, representing
'the Sports and pretty Lightnesses that accompany