THIRD SPEAKER (a youth). Yet, father, 'tis a happy sight to see, By God or man;-'tis like the bright procession From which men wake as from a paradise, And draw new strength to tread the thorns of life. Which bloom so rarely in this barren world? When avarice and tyranny, vigilant fear, As on Hell's threshold; and all gentle thoughts With his own gift. SECOND SPEAKER. How young art thou in this old age of time! How green in this grey world! Canst thou not think Of change in that low scene, in which thou art Not a spectator but an actor? The day that dawns in fire will die in storms, Even though the noon be calm. My travel's done; My inn of lasting rest, but thou must still SECOND SPEAKER. Rather say the Pope. London will be soon his Rome: he walks He looks elate, drunken with blood and gold ;- Which turns Heaven's milk of mercy to revenge. ANOTHER CITIZEN, (lifting up his eyes). Good Lord! rain it down upon him. As if her nice feet scorned our English earth. And others who made base their English breed With papists, atheists, tyrants, and apostates. * * * FOURTH SPEAKER (a pursuivant). Give place, give place! You torch-bearers, advance to the great gate, FIFTH SPEAKER (a law student). What thinkest thou Of this quaint show of ours, my aged friend? FIRST SPEAKER. I will not think but that our country's wounds May yet be healed-The king is just and gracious, Though wicked councils now pervert his will: These once cast off SECOND SPEAKER. As adders cast their skins And keep their venom, so kings often change; Like the base patchwork of a leper's rags. THIRD SPEAKER. Oh, still those dissonant thoughts-List, loud music * ANOTHER SPEAKER. Give place To the Marshal of the Masque ! THIRD SPEAKER. How glorious! See those thronging chariots Like curved shells dyed by the azure depths The mettled horses in the torchlight stir Their gallant riders, while they check their pride, Like shapes of some diviner element ! Ay, there they are SECOND SPEAKER. Nobles, and sons of nobles, patentees, VOL. III. P Monopolists, and stewards of this poor farm, SPEAKER. "Tis but The anti-masque, and serves as discords do SCENE II. A Chamber in Whitehall. Enter the KING, QUEEN, LAUD, WENTWORTH, and ARCHY. KING. Thanks, gentlemen. I heartily accept This token of your service: your gay masque Was performed gallantly. QUEEN. And, gentlemen, Your quaint pageant Call your poor Queen your debtor. the task, The careful weight of this great monarchy. There, gentlemen, between the sovereign's pleasure I crave permission of your Majesty To order that this insolent fellow be Chastised: he mocks the sacred character, |