Cal. Make room there!

[Hautboys 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, join hands.

Cal. He shall not have my hand.

King. This is no time
To force you to it. I do love you both:
Calianax, you look well to your office;
And you, Melantius, are welcome home.—
Begin the masque!

Mel. Sister, I joy to see you, and your choice.
You look’d with my eyes when you took that man:
Be happy in him!

[Recorders play.

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

THE MASQUE.

NIGHT rises in mists.

Night. Our reign is come; for in the raging sea
The sun is drown’d, and with him fell the Day.
Bright Cynthia, hear my voice; I am the Night,
For whom thou bear’st about thy borrow’d light.
Appear; no longer thy pale visage shroud,
But strike thy silver horns quite 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 CYNTHIA.

Cynth. Great queen, they be a troop for whom alone
One of my clearest moons I have put on;
A troop, that looks as if thyself and I
Had pluck’d our reins 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 outshine the day.

Cynth. Great queen of shadows, you are pleased 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, while our reign 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 brother’s 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 Phœbus, and in vain my light I lend;
Gazed on unto my setting from my rise
Almost of none, but of unquiet eyes.

Night. 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,
Easy and sweet, who is a happy lover.
Or, if thou woo’t, then call thine own Endymion,
From the sweet flowery bed he lies upon,
On Latmus’ top, thy pale beams drawn away,
And of this long night let him make a day.
Cynth. 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