Has stirr'd my worthy friend, who is as slow
                  To fight with words, as he is quick of hand?

Mel. That heap of age which I should reverence
                  If it were temperate: but testy years
                  Are most contemptible.

Amint. Good Sir forbear.

Cal. There is just such another as your self.

Amint. He will wrong you, or me, or any man,
                 And talk as if he had no life to lose
                 Since this our match: the King is coming in,
                 I would not for more wealth than I enjoy,
                 He should perceive you raging, he did hear
                 You were at difference now, which hastned him.

Cal. Make room there.

Hoboyes play within.

Enter King, Evadne, Aspatia, Lords and Ladies.

King. Melantius, thou art welcome, and my love Is with thee still; but this is not a place To brabble in; Calianax, joyn hands.

Cal. He shall not have my hand.

King. This is no time
                 To force you to't, I do love you both:
                  Calianax, you look well to your Office;
                 And you Melantius are welcome home; begin the Mask.

Mel. Sister, I joy to see you, and your choice,
                 You lookt with my eyes when you took that man;
                 Be happy in him.

[Recorders.

Evad. O my dearest brother! Your presence is more joyful than this day can be unto me.

The Mask.

Night rises in mists.

Nigh. Our raign is come; for in the raging Sea
                 The Sun is drown'd, and with him fell the day:
                 Bright Cinthia hear my voice, I am the Night
                 For whom thou bear'st about thy borrowed light;
                 Appear, no longer thy pale visage shrowd,
                 But strike thy silver horn through a cloud,
                 And send a beam upon my swarthy face,
                 By which I may discover all the place
                 And persons, and how many longing eyes
                 Are come to wait on our solemnities.

[Enter Cinthia.

                 How dull and black am I! I could not find
                 This beauty without thee, I am so blind;
                 Methinks they shew like to those Eastern streaks
                 That warn us hence before the morning breaks;
                 Back my pale servant, for these eyes know how
                 To shoot far more and quicker rayes than thou.

Cinth. Great Queen, they be a Troop for whom alone
                 One of my clearest moons I have put on;
                 A Troop that looks as if thy self and I
                 Had pluckt our rains in, and our whips laid by
                 To gaze upon these Mortals, that appear
                 Brighter than we.

  Night. Then let us keep 'em here,
                 And never more our Chariots drive away,
                 But hold our places, and out-shine the day.

  Cinth. Great Queen of shadows, you are
                 pleas'd to speak
                 Of more than may be done; we may not break
                 The gods decrees, but when our time is come,
                 Must drive away and give the day our room.
                 Yet whil'st our raign lasts, let us stretch our power
                 To give our servants one contented hour,
                 With such unwonted solemn grace and state,
                 As may for ever after force them hate
                 Our brothers glorious beams, and wish the night
                 Crown'd with a thousand stars, and our cold light:
                 For almost all the world their service bend
                 To Phoebus and in vain my light I lend,
                 Gaz'd on unto my setting from my rise
                 Almost of none, but of unquiet eyes.

Nigh. Then shine at full, fair Queen, and by thy power
                 Produce a birth to crown this happy hour;
                 Of Nymphs and Shepherds let their songs discover,
                 Easie and sweet, who is a happy Lover;
                 Or if thou woot, then call thine own Endymion
                 From the sweet flowry bed he lies upon,
                 On Latmus top, thy pale beams drawn away,
                 And of this long night let him make a day.

Cinth. Thou dream'st dark Queen, that fair boy was not mine,
                 Nor went I down to kiss him; ease and wine
                 Have bred these bold tales; Poets when they rage,
                 Turn gods to men, and make an hour an age;
                 But I will give a greater state and glory,
                 And raise to time a noble memory
                 Of what these Lovers are; rise, rise, I say,
                 Thou power of deeps, thy surges laid away,
                 Neptune great King of waters, and by me
                 Be proud to be commanded.

[Neptune rises.

Nep. Cinthia, see, Thy word hath fetcht me hither, let me know why I ascend.

Cinth. Doth this majestick show
                   Give thee no knowledge yet?

Nep. Yes, now I see.
                   Something intended (Cinthia) worthy thee;
                   Go on, I'le be a helper.

Cinth. Hie thee then,
                   And charge the wind