My noble Lord:

"It can be no dishonour to listen to this poet's music, whose tunes alighted in the ears of a great and ever famous queen. His invention was so curiously strung, that Eliza's court held his notes in admiration. Light airs are now in fashion; and these not being sad fit the season, though perchance not suit so well with your more serious contemplations.

"The spring is at hand, and therefore I present you with a Lilly growing in a grove of laurels; for this poet sat at the sun's table; Apollo gave him a wreath of his own bays without snatching. on had no borrowed strings.

"I a am, my Lord, no executor, distribute the goods of the dead.

The lute he played

yet I presume to Their value being in

no way answerable to those debts of duty and affection in which I stand obliged to your Lordship. The greatest treasure our poet left behind him are these six ingots of refined invention, richer than gold. Were they diamonds they are now your's. Accept them, noble Lord, in part, and me

"To the Reader :

Your Lordship's,

Ever obliged and
Devoted

ED. BLOUNT."

"Reader, I have for the love I bear to posterity, digged up the grave of a rare and excellent poet, whom Queen Elizabeth heard, graced and rewarded. These papers of his lay like dead laurels in a church-yard; but I have gathered the scattered branches up, and by a charm gotten from Apollo, made them green again, and set them up as epitaphs to his memory.

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"A sin it were to suffer these rare monuments of wit to be covered in dust; and a shame such conceited comedies should be acted by nothing but worms. Oblivion shall not so trample upon a son of the muses, and such a son as they called their darling. Our nation are in debt for a new English which he taught them.Euphues and his England began first that language; all our ladies were then his scholars, and that beauty in court which could not parley Euphuism, was as little regarded, as she which now there, speaks not French.

These his plays crowned him with applause, and the spectators with pleasure. Thou canst not repent reading them over; when old John Lilly is merry with thee in thy chamber, thou shalt say, few, or none of our poets now are such witty companions, and thank me that brings him to thy acquaintance.

Thine,

ED. BLOUNT."

These six comedies are severally entitled,-" Endimion,”—“Alexander and Campaspe,”—“ Sappho and Phaon," "Galathea,' Midas," " and "Mother Bombie." It would be a waste of time to attempt an analysis of any of them; a few extracts, carefully selected, will enable the reader to form a correct estimate and character of the writer.

Every play has its prologue and epilogue, and some of them two, one of them being addressed immediately to the Queen, when the representation was graced with her presence. The following is prefixed to Midas:

"The Prologue in Pauls."

Gentlemen, so nice is the world, that for apparel there is no fashion, for music no instrument, for diet

no delicate, for plays no invention, but breedeth satiety before noon, and contempt before night.

"Come to the taylor, he is gone to the painters to learn how more cunning may lurk in the fashion, than can be expressed in the making. Ask the musicians, they will say their heads ach with devising notes beyond E La. Enquire at the ordinaries, there must be sallads for the Italian; pick-tooths for the Spaniards; pots for the German; pottage for the Englishman. At our exercises, soldiers call for tragedies, their object is blood; courtiers for comedies, their subject is love; countrymen for pastorals, shepherds are their saints. Trafic and travel have woven the nature of all nations into ours, and made this land like arras, which was broadcloth full of workmanship.

"Time hath confounded our minds, our minds the matter; but all cometh to this pass, that what heretofore hath been served in several dishes for a feast, is now minced in a charger for a gallimaufry. If we present a mingle-mangle, our fault is to be excused, be cause the whole world is become a hodge-podge.

"We are jealous of your judgments because you are wise; of our own performance because we are imperfect; of our author's device because he is idle; only this doth encourage us, that presenting our studies before gentlemen, though they receive an inward mislike, we shall not be hissed with an open disgrace :stirps rudis urtica est: stirps generosa rosa.”

The following scene, which concludes the "Tragical Comedy of Alexander and Campaspe," is perhaps the best in the whole series.

Actus quintus, Scæna quarta.

Alexander, Hephestion, Page, Diogenes, Apelles,

Campaspe.

Alex-Me thinketh Hephestion you are more melancholy than you are accustomed, but I perceive it is all for Alexander. You can neither brook, this peace nor my pleasure; be of good cheer; though I wink, I sleep not.

Heph.-Melancholy I am not, nor well content: for I know not how there is such a rust crept into my bones with this long ease, that I fear I shall not scour it out with infinite labours.

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Alex.-Yes, yes, if all the travails of conquering the world will set either thy body or mine in tune, we will undertake them. But what think you Apelles? Did ye ever see any so perplexed? He neither answered directly to any question, nor looked stedfastly upon any thing. I hold my life the painter is in love.

:

Heph.-It may be for commonly we see it incident in artificers, to be enamoured of their own works, as Archidamus of his wooden dove, Pygmalion of his ivory image, Arachne of his wooden swan; especially painters, who playing with their own conceits, now coveting to draw a glancing eye, then a rolling, now a winking, still mending it, never ending it, and then, poor souls, they kiss the colours with their lips, with which before they were loath to taint their fingers. Alex.—I will find it out. Page go speedily to Apelles,

will him to come hither, and when you see us

earnestly in talk, suddenly cry out, "Apelles" shop is on fire,"

Page.--It shall be done.

Alex.-Forget not your lesson.

Heph.-I marvel what your device shall be.

Alex.-The event shall prove.

Heph.-I pity the poor painter, if he be in love. Alex.-Pity him not: I pray thee, that severe gravity set aside: what do you think of love?

Heph. As the Macedonians do of their herb beet, which looketh yellow in the ground, and black

in the hand; think it better seen than touched. Alex. But what do you imagine it to be? Heph.-A word, by superstition thought a god; by use turned into a humour; by self-will made a flattering madness.

Alex. You are too hard-hearted to think so of love.

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Let us go to Diogenes :-Diogenes thou may'st

think it somewhat that Alexander cometh to

thee again so soon.

Diog.-If you come to learn, you could not come

soon enough; if to laugh, you be come too

soon.

Heph. It would better become thee to be more courteous, and frame thyself to please.

Diog. And you better to be less, if you durst displease.

Alex. What dost thou think of the time we have here?

Diog. That we have little and lose much.

Alex.-If one be sick, what would'st thou have him do?

Diog. Be sure that he make not his physician his heir. Alex. If thou mightest have thy will, how much ground would content thee.