A Collection of Old English Plays, Vol. II - Various
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_Sis_. But if wee see you in the Countrey you will doe us an honour?
_De_. You invite me to my happines. I can play well o' the kittar; I
thinke your musique is but course there; wee'le have a Countrey dance
after supper and a song. I can talke loud to a Theorbo[233], too, and
thats cald singing. Now, yee shall heare my Ballet.
_Sis_. Did you make a Ballet?
_De_. Oh I, the greatest wit lies that way now; a pittifull Complaint of
the Ladies when they were banish'd the Towne[234] with their husbands to
their Countrey houses, compeld to change the deere delight of Maske and
Revells here for Wassail and windie bagpipes; instead of Silken Fairies
tripping in the Banquetting Roome, to see the Clownes sell fish in the
hall and ride the wild mare, and such Olimpicks, till the ploughman
breake his Crupper, at which the Villagers and plumporidge men boile
over while the Dairy maid laments the defect of his Chine and he, poore
man, disabled for the trick, endeavours to stifle the noise and company
with perfume of sweat instead of Rose water.
_Lady_. This must be our Countrey recreation, too!
_Enter Sir Francis Courtwell_.
_De_. Who is this?
_Lady_. 'Tis Sir _Francis Courtwell_;
You cannot choose but know him.--This must bee
A favour, Sir, to visit us at parting.
_Sir Fr_. I came with other expectation, Madam,
Then to heare this: I could receave no newes
So unwelcome. What misfortune doth conclude
The Towne so unhappie?
_Lady_. 'Tis my husbands pleasure,
Affrighted with some Dreame he had last night;
For I can guess no other cause.
_Sir Fr_. Could hee
Bee capable of fright and you so neere him?
_De_. He cannot choose but know me then.--Sir, I kisse your noble hand
and shall be stellified in your knowledge.
_Sir Fr_. What thing's this that looks so like a race Nagg trick'd with
ribbands?
_Sis_. He is one of my inamoratos, Sir;
They call him Mounsir _Device_.
_Sir Fr_. Lady, your faire excuse.--He has, it seemes,
Some confidence to prevaile upon your liking
That he hath bought so many Bride laces.
_Sis_. You may interpret him a walking mirth.
_Sir Fr_. He moves upon some skrues and may be kinsman
To the engine that is drawne about with Cakebread,
But that his outside's brighter.
_De_. Sir _Francis Courtwell_.
_Sir Fr_. That's my name, Sir.
_De_. And myne Mounsieur _Device_.
_Sir Fr_. A _Frenchman_ Sir?
_De_. No, sir; an _English_ Monsier made up by a _Scotch_ taylor that
was prentice in _France_. I shall write my greatest ambition satisfied
if you please to lay your Comands upon mee.
_Sir Fr_. Sweet lady, I beseech you mussell your beagle; I dare not
trust my selfe with his folly, and he may deserve more beating then I am
willing to bestow at this tyme.
_Sis_. Take truce a little, servant.
_Sir Fr_. Will you consider, Madam, yet how much
A wounded hart may suffer?
_Lady_. Still the old businesse;
Indeede you make me blush, but I forgive you
If you will promise to sollicite this
Unwelcome cause no more.
_Sir Fr_. 'Tis my desire;
I take no pleasure in a pilgrimage.
If you instruct a nearer way, 'tis in
Your will to save your eare the trouble of
My pleading, Madam, if with one soft breath
You say I'me entertain'd; but for one smile
That speakes consent you'le make my life your servant.
_Lady_. My husband, Sir--
_Sir Fr_. Deserves not such a treasure to himselfe
And starve a noble servant.
_Lady_. You but pleade
For vanitie: desist, for if I could
(Forgetting honour and my modestie)
Allow your wild desires, it were impossible
That wee should meete more then in thought and shadowes.
_Sir Fr_. If these shadowes, Madam, be but darke enough,
I shall account it happines to meet you.
But referr that to opportunitie,
Which our kind starrs in pitty will sooner offer
To both our ioyes.
_Lady_. But he is very Jealous.
_Sir Fr_. That word assures my victorie; I never
Heard any wife accuse her husband of
Or cold neglect or Jealousie, but she had
A confirm'd thought within to trick his forehead--
It is but Justice, Madam, to reward him
For his suspitious thoughts.
_Lady_. D'ee thinke it fitt
To punish his suspition yet perswade
To act the sinne he feares?
_Sir Fr_. Custome and nature make it less offence
In women to comitt the deed of pleasure
Then men to doubt their chastity; this flowing
From poison'd natures, that excus'd by fraielty.
Yet I have heard the way to cure the scare
Has bin the deed; at truth the scruples vanish.
I speake not, Madam, with a thought to suffer
A foule breath whisper your white name; for he
That dares traduce it must beleeve me dead,
Or my fame twisted with your honour must not
Have pitty on the Accusers blood.
_Device_. I will attend you in the Countrey;
I take my leave and kiss your ivory hand;
Madam, and yours. Sir _Francis_, your obliged.
[_Exit_.
_Sir Fr_. You bless me with this promise.
--How can you, lady, suffer this impertinent
Afflict you thus?
[_Ex. Lad_.
_Sis_. Alas, my parrat's dead and he supplies the prattle: ith' spring
and fall he will save me charge of phisick in purgeing Melancholy.
_Sir Fr_. If you dare
Accept a servant, Ladie, upon my
Comends, I should present a kinsman t'ee
Who sha'not want a fortune nor, I hope,
A meritt to possesse your faire opinion.
_Sis_. You doe not say he is hansome all this while, and that's a maine
consideration. I wod not have a man so tall as a Mast, that I must clyme
the shroudes to kisse him, nor so much a dwarfe that I must use a
multiplying glass to know the proportion of his limbes. A great man is a
great house with too much garret and his head full of nothing but
lumber: if he be too round agen hees only fitt to be hung upp in a
Christall glasse. The truth is the man I love must please me at first
sight; if he take my eye I may take more tyme to examine his talent.
_Sir Fr_. Do you but grace him with accesse and aske your owne fancie,
Ladie, how you can affect him. Ile not despaire if he were cur'd of
modesty, which is the whole fault in his behaviour; but he may passe
without contempt.
_Do_. That modestie is a foule fault.
_Enter Captaine Underwitt_.
_Un_. Come away, Cosen; Sir _Richard's_ come and calls for you; the
Coachman is ready to mount. Noble Sir _Richard_, because you may not
loose breath, you may call me a Captaine, please you, a Captaine o' the
train'd band.
_Sis_. 'Tis very certaine.
_Sir Fr_. I congratulate your title, Sir.
_Un_. If you come into the Countrey you shall see me doe as much with my
leading staff as another.
_Sir Fr_. You wonot thrash your men?
_Un_. If I did 'tis not the first time I ha thrash'd. If I find my
Souldiers tractable they shall find me but a reasonable Captaine.
_Enter Sir Richard [and] Lady_.
_Sir Rich_. Sir _Francis_, I am sorrie the violence of my affaires wonot
let me entertaine you to my wishes. Pray honour us with your presence in
the Countrey, if you can dispence with your employments, when I shall
satisfie for this haste of my departure.
_Sir Fr_. I shall attend you, Sir, and present a kinsman of mine to this
virgin Ladie: he is like to be Master of no narrow fortune. It was my
busines at this tyme only to prepare his accesse.
_Sir Rich_. He shall have my vote for your sake, Sir _Francis_. Come,
Madam.
_Sir Fr_. Ile waite upon you to the Coach and take my leave.
_Un_. Sweet Mistresse _Doritye_.
[_Exeunt_.
_Act the Second_.
_Enter Captaine Sackburie, reading a Letter, and Thomas_.
_Capt_. Hum--hum--Where's the gold?
_Tho_. Here, Sir; one, two, three, fowre, and five.
_Cap_. Thou hast learnd the Cinque pace[235], _Tho_: is the gold weight?
_Tho_. I hope so, Sir.
_Cap_. Hum--into the Country;--thou hast a horse, too?
_Tho_. Not about me, Sir, but he is ready, all but brideling and
sadling, at our Inne, Captaine. My master sayes you shalbe troubled with
no horse but his.
_Cap_. Why, is he lame?
_Tho_. What? _Truehunt_, the black nag with three white feete? he lame?
You meane that I ride upon my selfe.
_Cap_. Hum,--'make hast as you will preserve the reputation of your true
friend and servant:'--so, so--Comend me to him, _Thomas_; I wonot faile
to visit him.
_Tho_. You may demand the Nag, if you ask for _Humfrey_ the Ostler, by
the same token he has bin there this foure dayes and had but one peck of
provender.
_Cap_. Enough I wonot faile, I say. Farewell, honest _Tom a
Lincolne_, farewell: comend me to the traind band.
_Tho_. Pray doe not fall a drinking and forgett it: bu'oy[236], noble
Captaine.
[_Exit_.
_Enter Mr. Courtwell_.
_Cap_. My expectation of the Lawz well mett!
_Cou_. I am glad to see you, Captaine.
_Cap_. Is thy sight perfect?
Thy poring upon statutes and booke cases
Makes me suspecte. But dost thou thinke to bee
A Dominus factotum on the Bench,
And be a Civill Lawyer?
_Cou_. You are merry.
_Cap_. Tis more then thou hast been this twelvemonth: th'ast
Lost thy Complexion with too much study.
Why, thou shalt be an heire and rule the rost
Of halfe a shire, and thy father would but Dye once;
Come to the Sizes with a band of Janisaries
To equall the Grand Signor, all thy tenants,
That shall at their owne charge make themselves fine
And march like Cavaliers with tilting feathers,
Gaudy as _Agamemnons_[237] in the play:
After whome thou, like _St. George_ a horseback
Or the high Sheriff, shall make the Cuntrey people
Fall downe in adoration of thy Crooper
And silver stirrup, my right worshipfull.
A pox a buckram and the baggage in't!
Papers defil'd with Court hand and long dashes,
Or Secretarie lines that stradle more
Then _Frenchmen_ and lesse wholsome to the Client.
Is thy head to be fild with Proclamations,
Rejoynders and hard words beyond the _Alchemist_[238]?
Be ruld, and live like a fine gentleman
That may have haukes and hounds and whores and horses,
And then thou art fitt Companie.
_Cou_. You talke wildlie;
I wou'd you saw your Errour that place all
Your happinesse upon such course delights.
I should degenerate too much and forfet
My education.
_Cap_. Education! he has gott a tune:
I doe not thinke but thou wilt leave thy law
And exercise thy talent in composeing
Some treatises against long haire and drinking
That most unchristian weed yclipt tobacco;
Preach to the puisnes[239] of the Inne sobrietie,
And abstinence from shaveing of lewd Baylies
That will come shortlie to your Chamber doores
And there with reverence entreat your worships
Come forth and be arrested,--precious tappoles!
I wo'd not willingly despaire of thee,
For thy Lands sake and cause I am thy Countreyman.
One generous Vagarie, and thou wer't wise,
Would breake somebodies hart within a sennight,
And then th'art Lord of all. Have but the grace
To dine wo' mee at taverne and ile tell
Thy friends there is some hope.
_Cou_. My friends?
_Cap_. Thy father's
In _Essex_: if he live heele purchase _Romford_;
If he die sooner then the towne's our owne;
Spend but an acre a day and thou maist live
Till all the world be wearie of thee. Betweene
Us two, what thincke you of a wench?
_Cou_. Nothing.
_Cap_. You meane one wench betweene us two is nothing.
I know a hundred Leverets[240], things that will
Bound like a dancer on the rope and kiss thee
Into thy naturall complexion:
A sinner that shall clime thee like a squirrell.
_Cou_. And crack me like a Nutt. I ha no kernell
To spare for her sweet tooth.
_Cap_. That was a metaphor: hee's not desperate!
_Cou_. Buoy, my deere Captaine.
_Cap_. Wy, farewell, Countreyman:
I may live yet to witnes thy conversion. [_Exit_.
_Enter a Footeman_.
_Cou_. How does my uncle?
_Fo_. He desires presentlie
To speake with you at his lodging.
_Cou_. Ile attend him.
[_Exit_.
[SCENE 2.]
_Enter Captaine Underwit and Thomas_.
_Un_. And hast thou been carefull of all those things I gave charge
to be provided?
_Tho_. There is a note of the particulars.
_Un_. Tis very well done, _Thomas_.--Let me see: Imprimis--
_Tho_. The Captaine wonot faile to be w'ee, sir. He was not at his
lodging; and inquiring at the _Horne_ tavern, I heard he had been there
with two or three Cittizens that ow'd him mony.
_Un_. That he owde mony to.
_Tho_. Tis all one, I thinke, Sir; for when Captaines have not pay, the
creditors may pay themselves. Here they said he did mollifie the hart of
the haberdashers and dranke himselfe a little mellowe ere they parted,
which gave me some hope I might find him ere night at the _Divell_,
where indeed I fetcht him out of the fire and gave him your Letter.
_Un_. And the gold too?
_Tho_. That was the first word he read; if you did not write it in text
he could not have found it out so soone. His eye was no sooner in the
inside but his arme flew out with an open mouth and his very fingers
cryed "give me the gold"! which presumeing to be weight he put in his
hocas pocas, a little dormer under his right skirt; and so takeing his
word to come downe and turning over your horse to him, with caution not
to be drunk and forgett your worship, I tooke my leave and went about
my Inventorie.
_Un_. Theis things are very right, _Thomas_. Let me see now the bookes
of Martiall discipline.
_Tho_. I bought up all that I found have relation to warr and fighting.
_Un_. That was weldone.--Item: _The Sword Salve_.
_Tho_. This I conceiv'd to have the vertue of _Achilles_ speare: if you
bee hurt you need goe no further then the blade for a Surgeon.
_Un_. The _Buckler of Faith_.
_Tho_. You had the sword before, Sir.
_Un_. A _Booke of Mortification_.
_Tho_. I, Sir, that is a kind of killing which I thought very necessary
for a Captaine.
_Un_. Item: the _Gunpowder Treason_ and the _Booke of Cannons_.
_Tho_. I wod not lett any shott scape mee.
_Un_. _Shakespeares_ Workes.--Why _Shakespeares_ Workes?
_Tho_. I had nothing for the pikemen before.
_Un_. They are plays.
_Tho_. Are not all your musterings in the Countrey so, Sir? Pray,
read on.
_Un_. _Bellarmines Controversie_ in six tomes.
_Tho_. That I took upon the Stationers word, who had been a pretty
Schollar at Paules; for the word _Bellarmine_, he said, did comprehend
warr, weapons and words of defiance. Ill words provoke men to draw their
sword, and fighting makes an end of the busines; and all this is
controversy. Pray, goe on, Sir.
_Un_. Two paire of Tables.--Tables for what?
_Tho_. Oh, sir, for ticktack. You know it was in my note, which though I
doubted at first, yet considering you were newly made a Cap: I conceiv'd
it was fitt you should learne to sett and or[d]er your men.
_Un_. Tacticks, man: thou didst mistake, they are bookes of warre.
_Tho_. You cannot know these from bookes as they are painted,
I warrant you.
_Un_. Why, dost thou thinke theis will make a Souldier?
_Tho_. Not of themselves, Sir, and therefore I provided: please you
read on, Sir.
_Un_. _Parsons Resolutions_ and _Felthams Resolves_[241].
_Tho_. All is nothing I knew, Sir, without resolution.
_Un_. Summa totalis three and twenty poundes nyneteene shillings and
sevenpence.--Thou hast undone mee.
_Tho_. If you doe not like the pennyworths tis but the charges of my
selfe and a horse agen to _London_. I will lose but the three odd pounds
19s and 7d: it may be you doe not understand these Authors: when the
Captaine comes he will expound 'em to you.
_Un_. What a Coxcombe have I to my man! but I dare not be angry with
him. Well, carry 'em into my study, _Thomas_.
[_Ext. Tho_.
_Enter Device_.
_De_. Most honor'd Captaine.
_Un_. My compleat Monsier _Device_, this is a grace to us. You come to
visit your Mistres my Cosen. As if by instinct she had knowledge of your
[_Enter Ladie and Sister, & Dorothy_.
approach, she is come to meet you.--Shall I never get opportunitie with
that shee waiter! If I gett her with Child my man _Thomas_ shall marry
her.
_Enter Thomas_.
_Tho_. Sir, the Captaine is new alighted.
_Un_. Gett a bottle of sack up to my Chamber presently.
[_Ext. [Underwit & Thomas_.
_La_. You are a gentleman of your word.
_Sis_. And such a gentleman is to be trusted, Madam.
_De_. He is an Infidell that will breake his word with a Ladie.
_Sis_. I suspect, servant, you have many Mistresses.
_De_. Not I, by this white hand. I must acknowledge there are some
Ladies in the Court in whose eyes and opinion I am favour'd. I cannot
obscure my selfe from their observation; but my heart with contempt of
all other endeerement is only devoted to your service.
_Sis_. Is't not a charge to dresse your selfe with such variety of
Ribbands every day?
_De_. Is that your scruple? Tis the Mode to express our fancie upon
every occasion; to shew the turne and present state of our hope or
feares in our Affection. Your colours to an understanding Lover carry
the interpretation of the hart as plainely as wee express our meaning
one to another in Characters. Shall I decipher my Colours to you now?
Here is Azure and Peach: Azure is constant, and Peach is love; which
signifies my constant Affection.
_Sis_. This is very pretty.
_De_. Oh, it saves the trouble of writing, where the Mistres and Servant
are learned in this amorous blazon. Yesterday I wore Folimort, Grisdelin
and Isabella: Folimort is withered, Grisdelin is absent, and Isabella is
beauty, which put together express I did wither or languish for your
absent beautie.
_Sis_. But is there any reason for theis distinctions?
_De_. Yes, Lady: for example, your Follimort is a withred leafe, which
doth moralise a decay: your yellow is joy, because--
_La_. Why, yellow, Sir, is Jealous.
_De_. No, your Lemon colour, a pale kind of yellow, is Jealous; your
yellow is perfect joy. Your white is Death, your milke white inocence,
your black mourning, your orange spitefull, your flesh colour
lascivious, your maides blush envied, your red is defiance, your gold is
avaritious, your straw plenty, your greene hope, your sea greene
inconstant, your violet religious, your willow forsaken.
_Sis_. We may then comitt a solecisme and be strangely interpreted by
such curious expounders in the rash election and wearing of our colours,
I p[er]ceave.
_La_. Tis pitty but there should be some bookes for our instruction in
this art.
_De_. Your Hierogliphick was the _Egiptian_ wisdome, your _Hebrew_ was
the Cabala, your _Roman_ had your Simball or impresse; but they are now
obsolete, your embleme trite and conspicuous, your invention of
Character and Alphabeticall key tedious and not delightfull, your motto
or rebus too open and demonstrative: but the science and curiosity of
your Colours in Ribbands is not only instructive but an ornament and the
nearest Comentator of Love; for as Love is entertain'd first by the eye,
or, to speake more plaine, as the object affected is tooke in first by
these opticks which receive the species of the thing colord &
beautifide, so it is answerable to nature that in the progresse of our
passion we should distinguish by our eye the change or constancy of our
affections in apt and significant colours.
_Sis. _You have tooke paines to study this learn'd heraldry.
_De_. It is the onely gentile knowledge or philosophie in the world. I
will undertake to open any man or womans hart.
_La_. Heaven forbid!
_De_. Tell the most secret imaginations and designes conclude every
passion and scruple, if they be carefull to observe the artificiall
method of their colours.
_Sis_. Why, this may be a way of fortune telling too.
_De_. You say right, Lady: phisiognomy and chiromancy are but trifles;
nay, your geomancie meere coniecturall, the execution of your schemes
circumstantiall and fallible, but your quaint alamode weare of your
fancie more then astrologicall.
_La_. Tis a kind of Divinitie.
_De_. You say very true, Madam, and comes neere to propheticall if the
minds of Ladies and gentlemen were elevated to the just and sublime
consideration.
_Sis_. What paines he takes to be ridiculous!
_Do_. This gentleman has a notable fancie and talkes poetically.
_Sis_. Yes, yes; he can write verses.
_Do_. Well, I have read Authors in my dayes and knew the length of the
poets in my tyme too, which was an hexameter and which a pentameter, but
the wits are not as they have been--right and straite.
_Sis_. Why, _Doroty_?
_Do_. Why, because wind is the cause of many things; now if the wind bee
not in the right corner tis the ill wind our proverbe speakes of that
blowes nobodie good; for when vapors and wind flie into the head it
cannot be in two places at one time: and that's the reason your men of
most wit doe seldome love a woman.--But here comes my Master and Sir
_Francis_.
_Enter Sir Richard and Sir Francis, and Mr. Courtwell_.
_Ri_. This is a double honour to us, _Sir Francis_. I shall want
language, but not a friendly hart to entertaine you and your noble
kinsman. What my exquisite Cavalier _Device_!--tis to no purpose I see
to remove into the Countrey to save charges and be quiet; the whole
Citty will come hither if I stay. I have no stomack to my kn't.
_Fra_. I hope, madam, you will be no enemy to my kinsman.
_Ri_. Sister, I present this gentleman; observe and cherish him; he has
been i'th Universitie.
_Sis_. Any degree, Sir?
_Co_. Onely Bachelour, forsooth!
_Ri_. If he winne you to marriage, Lady quicksilver--
_Sis_. He wilbe Master of his Art.
_Ri_. My vote is for him.
_De_.--I like not the induction of this rivall.
_Ri_. He studies now the law,
And thats the high way to preferment, Sister.
_Sis_. Indeed it is the high way in which some
Deliver up their purses. He may clime
To scarlet, but that he has too good a face.
_De_. Sir, I hope--
_Ri_. Troth, do not, Sir,--I meane, trouble yourselfe:
He is too bashfull to prevaile upon
Your spirited mistres!
_Enter Mr. Engine_.
_En_. Sir _Richard_.
_Ri_. More customers? Mr. _Engine_, welcome;
Your presence was unexpected in the Countrey.
_En_. Twas my ambition with some intents
To serve you, sir. Please you vouchsafe your privacie,
I bring Affaires are worth your entertainement:
I have rid hard.
_Cou_. What Cavallier's this, Uncle?
_Fra_. He is the inventor of new proiects, cosen,
They say, and patents; one that lives like a moth
Upon the Common wealth.
_Cou_. He lookes like one.
_Ric_. You will excuse me, gentlemen.--Make much of Sir _Francis_, Madam.
_Ext. [Sir Richard and Engine_.
_Fra_. Weele leave my Nephew and your sister, Madam,
And take a turne i'th garden.
_Sis_. You may be confident.
[_Exeunt Sir Francis, Lady, and Dorothy_.
_De_.--I doe not like the fancie in his hat;
That gules is warre and will be ominous.
_Ext. [Device_.
_Sis_. The gentleman's turnd statue! blesse me how
He staires upon me and takes roote, I thinke.
It mooves, and now to earth is fixt agen;
Oh, now it walkes and sadly marches this way.
Is't not a ghost? heele fright me. Oh, sweet sir,
Speake if you can and say who murderd you.
It points at me: my eyes? ungentle eyes
To kill so at first sight! Ile have my lookes
Arraigned for't and small _Cupid_ shall be judg,
Who for your sake will make me blind as he is.
_Co_. Ladie--
_Sis_. The man's alive agen and has
A tongue! discretion guide it; he but sent
His soule forth of an arrand; tis returnd,
Now wee shall have some sentences.
_Co_. Such are the strange varieties in love,
Such heates, such desperate coldes,--
_Sis_. No more winter, and you love me, unlesse you can command the
colepits; we have had a hard tyme on't already for want of fuell.
_Co_. I'me all turnd eares and, Lady, long to heare you,
But pressing to you doubt I am too neare you.
Then I would speake, but cannot; nought affordes
Expression, th'Alphabet's too poore for wordes:
He that knowes Love knowes well that every hower
Love's glad, Love's sad, Love's sweet--
_Sis_. And sometymes sower. Theis wordes would goe well to a tune; pray
letts heare you sing. I doe not thinke but you can make me a ioynture of
fower nobles a yeare in Balletts, in lamentable balletts; for your wit I
thinke lies tragicall. Did you make the _Ladies Downefall_[242].
You expresse a passion rarely, but pray leave
Your couplets and say something in blanck verse
Before you goe.
_Co_. Before I goe? breath not that killing language:
There is no sunne but in your eyes, and when
I once take leave of those celestiall beames
I meet with darkenes in my habitation;
Where stretch'd on sable ground I downe shall lay
My mournefull body, and with folded Armes
Heare sadder noats uppon the _Irish_ harpe[243]
And drop division with my brinish teares.[244]
_Sis_. This must be lamentable musick sure!
_Co_. But I have found an art to cure this wound,
For I with fancies pencill will so draw
Your picture in the table of my hart,
Your absence shall but like darke shadowes stand
To sett you of and see you, Lady, better
Then Love will lett me when I looke upon you.
_Sis_. Could this be true and meant, sweet sir, to me,
I should be kinder then the gentlest spring
That warms the world and makes fierce beasts so tame
And trees to swell themselves to cheerefull greene;
More jocund then the proudest quire of birds,
What ere they be that in the woods so wide
Doe sing their merry catches.--Sure he does
But counterfeit.