strappado me, hang me, I'll not stir; poor Folly, honest Folly, jocundary Folly forsake your lordship! no true gentleman hates me; and how many women are given daily to me, (if I would take 'em,) some not far off know. Tailor gone, Spanish fig gone, all gone, but I

Enter HUMOUR. Hum. My waiters quoited off by you! you flay

them! Whence come these thunderbolts? what furies

haunt you?
Ray. You.
Fol. She!
Ray. Yes, and thou.
Fol. Bow-wow !

Ray. I shall grow old, diseased, and melancholy; For

you have robb’d me both of Youth and Health, And that Delight my Spring bestow'd upon me: But for you two, I should be wondrous good; By you I have been cozen'd, baffled, torn From the embracements of the noblest creature

Hum. Your Spring ?

Ray. Yes, she; even she, only the Spring.
One morning, spent with her, was worth ten nights
With ten of the prime beauties in the world :
She was unhappy never, but in two sons,
March, a rude roaring fool,

Fol. And April, a whining puppy.
Hum. But May was a fine piece.
Ray. Mirror of faces.

а

Fol. Indeed May was a sweet creature; and yet a great raiser of Maypoles.

Hum. When will you sing my praises thus ?

Ray. Thy praises,
That art a common creature!

Hum. Common!

Ray. Yes, common: .
I cannot pass through any prince's court,
Through any country, camp, town, city, village,
But
up your name is cried, nay curs’d; “a ven-

geance
On this your debauch'd Humour!” .

Fol. A vintner spoke those very words, last night, to a company of roaring-boys, that would not pay their reckoning.

Ray. How many bastards hast thou?
Hum. None.

Ray. 'Tis a lie;
Be judged by this your squire, else.

Fol. Squire! worshipful master Folly.
Ray. The courtier has his Humour, has he nọt,

Folly ?
Fol. Yes, marry, has he—folly: the courtier's
humour is to be brave, and not pay for’t; to be
proud, and no man cares for't.

Ray. Brave ladies have their humours.
Fol. Who has to do with that, but brave lords?
Ray. Your citizens have brave humours.
Fol. Oh! but their wives have tickling humours.
Hum. Yet done?

Fol. Humour, madam! if all are your bastards that are given to humour you, you have a company

of as arrant rascals to your children as ever went to the gallows : a collier being drunk jostled a knight into the kennel, and cried, 'twas his humour; the knight broke his coxcomb, and that was his humour.

Ray. And yet you are not common !

Hum. No matter what I am : Rail, curse, be frantic; get you to the tomb Of your rare mistress; dig up your dead Spring, And lie with her, kiss her: me, have you lost.

,

. Fol. And I scorn to be found. Ray. Stay; must I lose all comfort ? dearest,

stay; There's such a deal of magic in those eyes, I'm charm'd to kiss these only.

Fol. Are you so? kiss on; I'll be kissed somewhere, I warrant.

Ray. I will not leave my Folly for a world.
Fol. Nor I you for ten.

. Ray. Nor thee, my love, for worlds piled upon

worlds. Hum. If ever for the Spring you do but sigh, I take

my

bells.

• If ever for the spring you do but sigh,

I take my bells.] i.e. I fly away, an allusion to falconry. Before the bawk was thrown off the fist; a light strap of leather, garnished with bells, was buckled round her leg, by which the course of her erratic flight was discovered.

· Fol. And I my hobby-horse :—will you be merry then, and jocund ?'

Ray. As merry as the cuckows of the spring.
Fol. Again!
Ray. How, lady, lies the way? ?

Hum. I'll be your convoy,
And bring you to the court of the Sun's queen,
Summer, a glorious and majestic creature;
Her face outshining the poor Spring's as far
As a sunbeam does a lamp, the moon a star.
Ray. Such are the spheres I'd move in.--Attend
us, Folly.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.- Near the SUMMER's Court.

Ray. I

Enter RAYBRIGHT and HUMOUR.

muse, my nimble Folly stays so long. Hum. He's quick enough of foot, and counts, I

swear, That minute cast away, not spent on you.

Ray. His company is music next to your's; Both of you are a consort, and your tunes Lull me asleep; and, when I most am sad, My sorrows vanish from me in soft dreams: But how far must we travel ? Is't our motion [That] puts us in this heat, or is the air

" Will you be merry, then, and jocund.] For this last word, the 4to. reads jawsand; perhaps, joysome may be thought nearer the sound of the word, in the old text.

In love with us, it clings with such embraces,
It keeps us in this warmth?

Hum. This shows her Court
Is not far off, you covet so to see;
Her subjects seldom kindle needless fires,
The Sun lends them his flames.

Ray. Has she rare buildings ?

Hum. Magnificent and curious: every noon
The horses of the day bait there; whilst he,
Who in a golden chariot makes them gallop
In twelve hours o'er the world, alights awhile,
To give a love-kiss to the Summer-queen.

Ray. And shall we have fine sights there?
Hum. Oh!

Ray. And hear
More ravishing music?

Hum. All the choristers
That learn’d to sing i’ the temple of the Spring;
But here attain such cunning, that when the

winds Roar and are mad, and clouds in antick gam

bols Dance o’er our heads, their voices have such

charms, They'll all stand still to listen.

Ray. Excellent.

2

2 But here attain, &c.] For here, the old copy reads her.' The passage is imperfect at best ; but perhaps the manuscript had, By her ; i. e. by the aid of Summer. VOL. II.

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