THE PERSON S.

The attendant SPIRIT, afterwards in the habit of Thyrfis.

COMUS with his crew.

The LADY.

First BROTHER,
Second BROTHER.
SABRINA the Nymph.

The chief perfons who prefented were,

The Lord B RACKLY.

Mr. THOMAS EGERTON his brother.

The Lady ALICE EGERTON.

The

The Mask was prefented in 1634, and confequently in the 20th year of our author's age. In the title-page of the first edition, printed in 1637, it is said that it was presented on Michaelmas night, and there was this motto,

"Eheu quid volui mifero mihi! floribus auftrum "Perditus

In this edition, and in that of Milton's poems in 1645, there was prefixed to the Maik the following dedication.

To the Right Honorable

JOHN Lord Viscount BRACKLY, fon and heir apparent to the Earl of BRIDGEWATER, &c.

MY LORD,

HIS

TH

poem,

which received its firft occafion of

birth from yourself and others of your noble family, and much honor from your own person in the performance, now returns again to make a final dedication of itself to you. Although not openly acknowledg'd by the author, yet it is a legitimate offspring, fo lovely, and fo much defired, that the often copying of it hath tir'd my pen to give my several friends fatisfaction, and brought me to a neceffity of producing it to the public view; and now to offer it up in all rightful devotion to those fair hopes, and rare endowments of your much promifing youth, which give a full affu

rance, to all that know you, of a future excellence. Live, fweet Lord, to be the honor of your name; and receive this as your own, from the hands of him, who hath by many favors been long oblig'd to your most honor'd parents; and as in this representation your attendant Thyrfis, fo now in all real expreffion

Your faithful and moft

humble Servant,

H. LAWES

A MASK

A MA S K.

The firft Scene difcovers a wild Wood.
The attendant Spirit descends or enters.

EFORE the ftarry threshold of Jove's court
My manfion is, where thofe immortal shapes
Of bright aereal Spirits live infpher'd

In regions mild of calm and ferene air,
Above the fmoke and ftir of this dim fpot,
Which men call Earth, and with low-thoughted care
Confin'd, and pefter'd in this pin-fold here,
Strive to keep up a frail and feverish being,
Unmindful of the crown that Virtue gives
After this mortal change to her true fervants
Amongst the enthron'd Gods on fainted feats.
Yet fome there be that by due fteps afpire
To lay their juft hands on that golden key,
That opes the palace of eternity:
To fuch my errand is; and but for fuch,

I would not foil thefe

pure

ambrofial weeds

With the rank vapors of this fin-worn mold.
But to my talk. Neptune, befides the fway
Of every falt flood, and each ebbing ftream,
Took in by lot 'twixt high and nether Jove
Imperial rule of all the fea-girt iles,
That like to rich and various gems inlay

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The

The unadorned bofom of the deep,
Which he to grace his tributary Gods

By courfe commits to several government,

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And gives them leave to wear their sapphire crowns,
And wield their little tridents: but this Ile,
The greatest and the beft of all the main,
He quarters to his blue-hair'd deities;
And all this tract that fronts the falling fun
A noble Peer of mickle trust and power
Has in his charge, with temper'd awe to guide
An old, and haughty nation proud in arms:
Where his fair offspring nurs'd in princely lore
Are coming to attend their father's ftate,

And new-intrufted fcepter; but their way

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Lies through the perplex'd paths of this drear wood,
The nodding horror of whose shady brows
Threats the forlorn and wandering passenger;
And here their tender age might fuffer peril,
But that by quick command from fovran Jove
I was dispatch'd for their defense and guard;
And liften why, for I will tell you now
What never yet was heard in tale or fong,
From old or modern bard, in hall or bower.

Bacchus, that first from out the purple grape
Crush'd the sweet poison of mif-ufed wine,
After the Tuscan mariners transform'd,
Coafting the Tyrrhene fhore, as the winds lifted,
On Circe's iland fell: (Who knows not Circe
The daughter of the fun? whose charm'd cup
Whoever tafted, loft his upright shape,

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