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Win. How do these pleasures please?
Hum. Pleasures!

Boun. Live here,
And be my lord's friend; and thy sports shall

vary A thousand ways; Invention shall beget Conceits, as curious as the thoughts of Change Can aim at.

Hum. Trifles! Progress o'er the year Again, my Raybright; therein like the Sun; As he in Heaven runs his circular course, So thou on earth run thine; for to be fed With stale delights, breeds dulness and contempt: Think on the Spring.

Ray. She was a lovely virgin.

Win. My royal lord! Without offence, be pleased but to afford Me give you my true figure; do not scorn My age, nor think, 'cause I appear forlorn, I serve for no use : 'tis my sharper breath Does purge gross exhalations from the earth; My frosts and snows do purify the air From choking fogs, make the sky clear and fair : And though by nature cold and chill I be, Yet I am warm in bounteous charity; And can, my lord, by grave and sage advice, Bring you to the happy shades of paradise. Ray. That wonder! Oh, can you bring me thi

ther? Win. I can direct and point you out a path. Hum. But where's the guide ?

Quicken thy spirits, Raybright; I'll not leave

thee: We'll run the self-same race again, that happiness; These lazy, sleeping, tedious Winter's nights Become not noble action.

Ray. To the Spring I am resolv'd


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The Sun appears above. .

Oh, what strange light appears!
The Sun is up, sure.

Sun. Wanton Darling, look,
And worship with amazement.

Omnes. Gracious lord !
Sun. Thy sands are numberd, and thy glass of

Here runs out to the last.- Here, in this mirror,
Let man behold the circuit of his fortunes;
The season of the Spring dawns like the Morning,
Bedewing Childhood with unrelish'd beauties
Of gaudy sights; the Summer, as the Noon,
Shines in delight of Youth, and ripens strength
To Autumn's Manhood ; here the Evening grows,
And knits up all felicity in folly:
Winter at last draws on the Night of Age ;
Yet still a humour of some novel fancy
Untasted or untried, puts off the minute
Of resolution, which should bid farewell
To a vain world of weariness and sorrows.

The powers, from whom man does derive the pedi

gree Of his creation, with a royal bounty Give him Health, Youth, Delight, for free at

tendants To rectify his carriage: to be thankful Again to them, man should cashier his riots, His bosom's whorish sweetheart, idle Humour, His Reason's dangerous seducer, Folly. Then shall, Like four straight pillars, the four Elements Support the goodly structure of mortality; Then shall the four Complexions, like four

heads Of a clear river, streaming in his body, Nourish and comfort every vein and sinew; No sickness of contagion, no grim death Or deprivation of Health’s real blessings, Shall then affright the creature built by Heaven, Reserv'd to immortality. Henceforth In-peace go to our altars, and no more Question the power of supernal greatness, But give us leave to govern as we please' Nature and her dominion, who from us And from our gracious influence, hath both

being And preservation; no replies, but reverence. Man hath a double guard, if time can win him; Heaven's power above him, his own peace within him.


I know not on what authority Longbaine speaks, but he expressly attributes the greater part of this Moral Masque to Ford. As far as concerns the last two Acts, I agree with him ; and a long and clear examination of this poet'

et's manner enables me to speak with some degree of confidence. But I trace Decker perpetually in the other three Acts, and through the whole of the comic part. I think well of this poet, and should pause before I admitted the inferiority of his genius (as far, at least, as imagination is concerned) to that of Ford: but his rough vigour, and his irregular metre generally enable us to mark the line between him and his more harmonious coadjutor.



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