Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek,

And made Hell grant what love did seek;
Or call up him that left half-told

The story of Cambuscan bold,
Of Camball, and of Algarsife,
And who had Canace to wife,

That owned the virtuous ring and glass,
And of the wondrous horse of brass
On which the Tartar king did ride!
And if aught else great bards beside
In sage and solemn tunes have sung,
Of tourneys and of trophies hung,

Of forests, and enchantments drear,
Where more is meant than meets the ear.

Thus, Night, oft see me in thy pale career, Till civil-suited Morn appear,

Not tricked and frounced, as she was wont
With the Attic boy to hunt,

But kerchieft in a comely cloud,

While rocking winds are piping loud,

Or ushered with a shower still,
When the gust hath blown his fill,
Ending on the rustling leaves,
With minute drops from off the eaves.
And, when the sun begins to fling
His flaring beams, me, Goddess, bring
To arched walks of twilight groves,
And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves,
Of pine, or monumental oak,

Where the rude ax with heavèd stroke
Was never heard the nymphs to daunt,
Or fright them from their hallowed haunt.
There, in close covert, by some brook,
Where no profaner eye may look,
Hide me from day's garish eye,

While the bee with honeyed thigh,

That at her flowery work doth sing,

And the waters murmuring,

With such consort as they keep,
Entice the dewy-feathered Sleep.

And let some strange mysterious dream
Wave at his wings, in airy stream
Of lively portraiture displayed,
Softly on my eyelids laid;

And, as I wake, sweet music breathe
Above, about, or underneath,

Sent by some Spirit to mortals good,
Or the unseen Genius of the wood.

But let my due feet never fail
To walk the studious cloisters pale,
And love the high embowèd roof,
With antique pillars massy-proof,
And storied windows richly dight,
Casting a dim religious light.
There let the pealing organ blow,
To the full-voiced choir below,

In service high and anthems clear,

As may with sweetness, through mine ear,
Dissolve me into ecstasies,

And bring all Heaven before mine eyes.

And may at last my weary age
Find out the peaceful hermitage,
The hairy gown and mossy cell,
Where I may sit and rightly spell
Of every star that heaven doth show,
And every herb that sips the dew,
Till old experience do attain
To something like prophetic strain.

These pleasures, Melancholy, give;
And I with thee will choose to live.

HISTRIO-MASTIX:

THE PLAYERS' SCOURGE OR ACTORS' TRAGEDIE

BY WILLIAM PRYNNE.

[WILLIAM PRYNNE, Puritan and royalist, victim by fortune and persecutor by desire, has a permanent place in history much beyond his magnitude, through the dramatic events in which he was a furious and not too rational actor; and the savage punishment he drew on himself, coming casually from the royal side, has made him seem without much reason a sort of martyr for liberty. He was born near Bath in 1600; graduated from Oriel College, Oxford; became a lawyer, learned in legal and constitutional antiquities; and applied a narrow eager mind and harsh ungenial nature to denouncing amusements, ornaments, fine dress, etc., without stint, proportion, or decency of language. His most famous work,

"Histrio-mastix" (i.e. Players' Scourge: 1633), practically warned the King (Charles I.) that favoring the drama might lead to a violent death, and applied the foulest of epithets to all actresses just when the Queen (Henrietta Maria) was rehearsing a ballet. He was degraded from his profession and his university degree, put in the pillory, and lost his ears (May 1634), few objecting or pitying. In 1637 a fresh onslaught on the ill-judged Declaration of Sports and the bishops got the stumps of his ears cut off again, and an imprisonment for him meant to be perpetual; but the monarchy had so alienated the whole country in these three years that Prynne's journey was a triumphal progress strewn with flowers. He was liberated and recompensed by the Long Parliament, and took their side against the King and Laud; but he denounced the Independents without measure for holding the right of individual worship and the principle of toleration, and maintained the right of the state to establish a church and exterminate dissent- - as did Laud. In 1648 he favored "conciliating" Charles, and opposed his execution. He opposed the new government, refused to pay taxes, and was laid by the heels again. He published a venomous attack on the Quakers as disguised Jesuits, and tried to have Jews excluded from the country (1658); and upheld the patronage system in the church. In 1659-1660 he spent all his time assailing Richard Cromwell's government, and was active in preparing for the restoration of Charles II. After the latter, he was as vindictive in hounding all who had held office under Cromwell, or had dealings with any who had so held office, as if his ears had been lost through them; he supported the attainder of the dead Cromwell, proposed to make all his officials refund their salaries, and even moved against paying the private debts of the regicide judges out of their confiscated estates. He was member of Parliament till his death in October 1669, censured by it once for gross libel and once for altering a bill after commitment, quarreling in person or by pen to the last.]

[The italic passages are quotations-literal or virtual; authors given in original.]

THE PROLOGUE.

SUCH hath alwayes beene, and yet is, the perverse, and wretched condition of sinfull man, (a) the cogitations of whose heart are evill, and onely evill before God, and that continually: that it is farre more easie to estrange him from his best, and chiefest joyes; then to divorce him from his (b) truest misery, (c) the pleasures of sinne, which are but for a season, (d) yet set in endlesse griefe: (Man alwayes hugges his pleasurable sinnes so fast, out of a preposterous, and misguided love, (e) which makes his reformation desperate :) that if any soule-compassionating Christians attempt to wrest them from him; hee forthwith takes up armes against them; returning them no other answere, then that of Ruth to Naomie, in a farre better case: (f) The Lord doe so to mee, and more also, if ought but death part them and mee: where they dye, I will dye, and there will I bee buried: and thus alas hee lives, (g) nay, dies, and lies (as too many dayly doe) intombed both with, and in, his darling crimes.

How naturally prone men are to cleave to worldly pleasures, and delights of sinne, in despite of all those powerfull attractives, which might withdraw them from them; to omit all other particular instances: wee may behold a reall, and lively experiment of it, in prophane, and poysonous STAGEPLAYES; the common Idole, and prevailing evill of our dissolute, and degenerous Age: which though they had their rise from Hell; yea, their birth, and pedegree from the very Devill himselfe, to whose honour, and service they were at first devoted though they have beene oft condemned, and quite exploded by the whole Primitive Church, both under the Law, and Gospel: by the unanimous vote of all the Fathers, and sundry Councells from age to age: by Moderne Divines, and Christian Authours of all sorts: by divers Heathen States, and Emperours; and by whole Grand-juries of prophane writers, as well Historians, and Poets, as Philosophers: (h) as the Incendiaries, and common Nurseries of all Villany, and Wickednesse; the bane, and overthrow of all Grace, and Goodnesse; the very poyson, and corruption of mens mindes, and manners; the very fatall plagues, and overtures of those States, and Kingdomes where they are once tollerated, as I shall proove anon.

Yet wee, we miserable, and gracelesse wretches, after so many sentences passed upon them: after so many Judgements already inflicted on, and yet threatened to us, for them: after so many yeres, and Jubilies of the glorious Gospel-sun-shine: (i) which teacheth us to deny ungodlinesse, and all worldly lusts, and to live soberly, righteously, and godly in this present world, looking for the comming, and appearance of the great God, and our Saviour Jesus Christ: yea, after our very vow, and sacred covenant in Baptisme, which bindes us, (k) to forsake the Devill, and all his Workes, the Pomps, and Vanities of this wicked World, and all the sinfull lusts of the flesh, (1) of which these StagePlayers are the chiefe: as if wee were quite degenerated, not onely from the grace, and holinesse of Christians; but even from the naturall goodnesse, and moralitie of Pagans in former Ages; doe now, even now, in the middest of all our feares at home, and the miserable desolations of Gods Church abroade; (the very thoughts of which should cause our hearts to bleed, and soules (m) to mourne; much more our Hellish jollitie, and mirth to cease:) as if wee had made a covenant with Hell, and sworn alleageance to the Devil himselfe; (n) inthrall, and sell our selves to these Diabolicall, and hellish Enter-ludes, notwith

standing, all that God, or man have said against them: and would rather part with Christ, Religion, God, or Heaven, then with them.

Yea so farre are many mens affections wedded to these prophane, and Heathenish vanities; that as it was in Saint Augustines time, even so it is now: (o) whosoever is but displeased, and offended with them, is presently reputed for a common Enemie: he that speaks against them, or comes not at them, is forthwith branded for a Scismaticall, or factious Puritan: and if any one assay to alter, or suppresse them, he becomes so odious unto many; that did not the feare of punishment restraine their malice, they would not onely scorne, and disgrace, but even stone, or rent him all to pieces, as a man unworthy for to live on earth: whereas such who further these delights of sinne, are highly magnified, as the chiefe contrivers of the publike happinesse.

There was once a time, (if Tertullian, with some other ancient Fathers, may bee credited :) (p) when as it was the chiefest badge and character of a Christian, to refraine from StagePlayes: yea, this (q) was one great crime which the Pagans did object against the Christians in the Primitive Church; that they came not to their Enterludes. But now, (as if StagePlayes were our Creed, and Gospel, or the truest embleme of our Christian profession,) those are not worthy of the name of Christians; they must be Puritans, and Precisians; not Protestants, who dislike them.

(r) Heu quantum mutatus ab illo?

Alas, how farre are Christians now degenerated, from what they were in ancient times; when as that which was their badge and honour heretofore, is now become their brand and shame? (8) Quantus in Christiano populo honor Christi est, ubi religio ignobilem facit? How little doe we Christians honour Christ, when as the ancient character, and practicall power, of Religion, (I meane the abandoning, and renouncing of sinnefomenting Stage-Playes) subject men unto the highest censure, and disgrace?

(t) Conquerar? an taceam?

This being the dissolute, and unhappy constitution of our depraved times, it put mee at the first to this Dilemma; whether to sit mute and silent still, and (u) mourne in secret for these

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