I strongly wish, for what I faintly hope:
Like the day-dreams of melancholy men,
I think and think on things impossible,
Yet love to wander in that golden maze.
_Enter DON MANUEL, HIPPOLITO, and company_.
_Amid_. Madam, your brother's here.
_Man_. Where is the bridegroom?
_Hip_. Not yet returned, sir, from his ship.
_Man_. Sister, all this good company is met,
To give you joy.
_Jul_. While I am compassed round
With mirth, my soul lies hid in shades of grief,
Whence, like the bird of night, with half shut eyes,
She peeps, and sickens at the sight of day. [_Aside_.
_Enter Servant_.
_Serv_. Sir, some gentlemen and ladies are without,
Who, to do honour to this wedding, come
To present a masque.
_Man_. Tis well; desire them
They would leave put the words, and fall to dancing.
The poetry of the foot takes most of late.
_Serv_. The poet, sir, will take that very ill;
He's at the door, with the argument o'the masque
In verse.
_Man_. Which of the wits is it that made it?
_Serv_. None of the wits, sir; 'tis one of the poets.
_Man_. What subject has he chose?
_Serv_. The rape of Proserpine.
_Enter GONSALVO_.
_Man_. Welcome, welcome, you have been long
expected.
_Gons_. I staid to see the unlading of some rarities,
Which are within--
Madam, your pardon that I was so long absent.
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