mentioned in the Catalogue, but are neither many, nor curious: they occasionally inform us, these lines my lord writ.]

WHERE this queen Mab, and all her fairy fry,
Are dancing on a pleasant mole-hill high;
With fine small straw-pipes sweet Music's pleasure,
By which they do keep just time and measure;
All hand in hand, around, around,

They dance upon this fairy ground.

And when the Queen leaves off to dance
She calls for all her attendants,

Her to wait on unto a bower,

Where she doth sit under a flower,

To shade her from the moonshine bright,
Where Gnats do sing for her delight;
Some high, some low, some tenor strain,
Making a concert very plain.

The while the Bat doth fly about,
To keep in order all the rout;

And with her wings she strikes them hard,
Because no noise there should be heard.
She on a dewy leaf doth bathe,
And as she sits, the leaf doth wave.
There, like a new-fall'n flake of snow,
Doth her white limbs in beauty shew.
Her garments fair her maids put on,
Made of the pure light from the sun;

From whence such colours she inshades,

In every object she invades.

Then to her dinner she goes straight,
Where every one in order wait;
And on a mushroom there is spread
A cover fine of Spider's web.
And for her stool a thistle-down,
And for her cup an acorn's crown,
Wherein strong nectar there is fill'd
That from sweet flowers is distill'd.
Flies of all sorts, both fat and good,
Partridge, snipes, quails, and poult, her food,
Pheasants, larks, cocks, or any kind,
Both wild and tame, you there may find.
Amelets made of ants-eggs new,

Of these high meats she eats but few.
Her milk comes from the dormouse udder,
Making fresh cheese, cream, and butter;
This milk doth make many a fine knack,
When they fresh ant's-eggs therein crack,
Both pudding, custards, and seed-cake,
As her skill'd cook knows how to make.
To sweeten them the bee doth bring
Pure honey gather'd by her sting;
But for her guard serves grosser meat,
On stall-fed dormouse they do eat.

When din'd, she calls to take the air,

In coach, which is a nut-shell fair;
Lin'd soft it is, and rich within,
Made of a glistering adder's skin.
And there six crickets draw her fast,
And she a journey takes in haste;
Or else two serves to pace around,
And trample on the fairy ground.
To hawk sometimes she takes delight,
Which is a hornet swift for flight,
Whose horns do serve for talons strong,
To gripe the partridge fly among.
But if she will a hunting go,

Then she the lizzard makes the doe:
They are so swift, and fleet in chace,
As her slow coach can never pace.
Then on grass-hopper doth she ride,
Who gallops far in forest wide.
Her bow is of a willow branch,
To shoot the lizzard on the haunch.
Her arrow sharp, much like a blade
Of a rosemary leaf is made.
Then home she's called by the cock,
Who gives her warning what's a clock.
And when the Moon doth hide her head,
Their day is done, so goeth to bed.

Meteors do serve, when they are bright,
As torches do, to give her light.
Glow-worms for candles are light up,
Set on her table, while she sup.
And in her chamber they are plac'd,
Not fearing how the tallow waste.
But women that inconstant are by kind,
Can never in one place content their mind.
For she her chariot calls, and will away,
To upper earth, impatient is of stay.

The Funeral of Calamity.

CALAMITY was laid on Sorrow's hearse,
And coverings had of melancholy verse;
Compassion, a kind friend, did mourning go,
And tears about the corpse, as flowers, strow;
A garland of deep sighs by Pity made,
Upon Calamity's sad corpse was laid;
Bells of complaints did ring it to the grave,
Poets a monument of fame it gave.

Mirth and Melancholy.

As I was musing by myself alone,

My thoughts brought several things to work upon :
At last came two, which diversely were drest,
One Melancholy, t'other Mirth exprest;

Here Melancholy stood in black array,
And Mirth was all in colours fresh and gay.

Mirth.

Mirth laughing came, and running to me, flung Her fat white arms about my neck, there hung, Embrac'd and kiss'd me oft, and stroak'd my cheek,

Saying, she would no other lover seek;

I'll sing you songs, and please you every day,
Invent new sports to pass the time away;

I'll keep your heart, and guard it from that thief,
Dull Melancholy, Care, or sadder Grief,

And make your eyes with Mirth to overflow; With springing blood your cheeks soon fat shall

grow;

Your legs shall nimble be, your body light,

And all your spirits, like to birds in flight.

Mirth shall digest your meat, and make you strong, Shall give you health, and your short days prolong;