And our entire affection, of all orchards Choose yours, to make it happy by our dances, And you, ungrateful mortal, thus requite us, Joc. (to BROMIUS) Villain, thou hast undone me! His Grace is much incens'd. Dor. You know, Jocastus, Our Grace have orchards of our own, more precious Than mortals can have any; and we sent you A present of them t' other day. Your Grace's humble servant must acknowledge it. Brom. Some of his own, I'm sure. Dor. I must confess Their outside look'd something like yours indeed; But then the taste more relish'd of eternity, Joc. What say these mighty peers, great Oberon? Dor. They cannot speak this language, but in ours They thank you; and they say they will have none. Elves. Tititàti, Tititàti. Joc. What say they now? Dor. They do request you now To grant them leave to dance a fairy ring About your servant, and for his offence Pinch him. Do you, the while, command the traitor Not dare to stir, nor once presume to mutter. Joc. Traitor, for so Prince Oberon deigns to call thee, (Fairies dance about BROMIUS, and pinch and scratch him in chorus.) Quoniam per te violamur, Ungues hic experiamur : Statim dices tibi datam Cutem valde variatam. Joc. Tititàti to your lordship for this excellent music. Brom. (aside). This 't is to have a coxcomb for one's master. Joc. Still mutterest thou? [Exit BROMIUS. (DORYLUS descends from the tree; JOCASTUS falls on his knees.) Dor. Arise up, Sir Jocastus, our dear knight. [Since by thee comes profanation Taste thee, lo! excoriation: Thou shalt own, that in a twinkling Thou hast got a pretty crinkling.] Now hang the hallow'd bell about his neck; We call it a mellisonant tingle-tangle, (Aside). (A sheep-bell stolen from his own fat wether) The ensign of his knighthood. Sir Jocastus, We call to mind we promis'd you long since The President of our Dances' place; we are now Pleas'd to confirm it on you. Give him there Joc. Your Grace is pleas'd Now be gone. To honour your poor liegeman. Dor. Joc. Farewell unto your Grace and eke to you. Tititatèe, my noble lords; farewell. Dor. Tititatèe,-my noble fool; farewell. Of Faery, come attend our Royal Grace; Let's go and share our fruits with our Queen Mab, And the other dairy-maids; where of this theme CHORUS OF FAIRIES. Cum tot poma habeamus, Faunos ego credam ortos, [Now for all this store of apples, To keep orchard-robbing holy. [Exit. I domum, Oberon, ad illas Quæ nos manent nunc ancillas; Inter poma, lac, et vinum.4 1 "Nos beata Fauni proles," &c.-There is something very charming in these Latin rhymes. They make one wish (in spite of the danger of being charged with a Gothic taste) that Horace and Catullus,— say rather Ovid, had written in rhyme as well as blank verse, and so given us a fairy music with some of his words, beyond the power of his lutes and lyres to hand down. 2 "Immortal thief, come down," &c.-It must be confessed that Bromius talks too well for a servant. So, for that matter, does his master, for so foolish a countrygentleman. But we are to recollect that the play is a pastoral with an Arcadian licence. 346 Tititatèe, my noble lords," &c.-Moliere himself would have enjoyed this extravagance. It is indeed quite in his manner. “Inter poma, lac, et vinum."—A line that shuts up the scene in "measureless content." Thanks be to the witty scholar, Thomas Randolph, for an addition to the stock of one's pleasant fancies. Home, then, home; let 's recreàte us SUCKLIN G. BORN, 1609-DIED, 1641. SIR JOHN SUCKLING, son of the Comptroller of the Household to Charles the First, was so true a wit, and hit so delightful a point between the sentiment of the age of Elizabeth and the gallantry of the Stuarts, that it is provoking to be unable to give some of his best pieces at all in a publication like the present, and only one or two short ones without mutilation. He comes among a herd of scented fops with careless natural grace, and an odour of morning flowers upon him. You know not which would have been most delighted with his compliments, the dairy maid or the duchess. He was thrown too early upon a town life; otherwise a serious passion for some estimable woman, which (to judge from his graver poetry) he was very capable of entertaining, might have been the salvation of him. As it was, he died early, and, it is said, not happily; but this may have been the |