a garland of bays on her head_.

Why so; thus do I hope to please:
Music revives, and mirth is tolerable,
Comedy, play thy part, and please;
Make merry them that come to joy with thee.
Joy, then, good gentles; I hope to make you laugh.
Sound forth Bellona's silver-tuned strings.
Time fits us well, the day and place is ours.

_Enter_ ENVY, _his arms naked, besmeared with blood_.

ENVY. Nay, stay, minion; there lies a block!
What, all on mirth? I'll interrupt your tale,
And mix your music with a tragic end.

COMEDY. What monstrous ugly hag is this,
That dares control the pleasures of our will?
Vaunt, churlish cur, besmear'd with gory blood,
That seem'st to check the blossoms of delight,
And stifle the sound of sweet Bellona's breath,
Blush, monster, blush, and post away with shame,
That seekest disturbance of a goddess' deeds.

ENVY. Post hence thyself, thou counterchecking trull;
I will possess this habit, spite of thee,
And gain the glory of thy wished port.
I'll thunder music shall appal the nymphs,
And make them shiver their clattering strings:
Flying for succour to their Danish caves.

_Sound drums within, and cry, Stab, stab_!

Hearken, thou shalt hear a noise
Shall fill the air with a shrilling sound,
And thunder music to the gods above:
Mars shall himself breathe down
A peerless crown upon brave Envy's head,
And raise his chival with a lasting fame.
In this brave music Envy takes delight,
Where I may see them wallow in their blood,
To spurn at arms and legs quite shivered off,
And hear the cry of many thousand slain,
How lik'st thou this, my trull? this sport alone for me!

COMEDY. Vaunt, bloody cur, nurs'd up with tigers' sap,
That so dost seek to quail a woman's mind.
Comedy is mild, gentle, willing for to please,
And seeks to gain the love of all estates.
Delighting in mirth, mix'd all with lovely tales,
And bringeth things with treble joy to pass.
Thou bloody envious disdainer of men's joys,
Whose name is fraught with bloody stratagems,
Delights in nothing but in spoil and death,
Where thou may'st trample in their lukewarm blood,
And grasp their hearts within thy cursed paws.
Yet veil thy mind; revenge thou not on me;
A silly woman begs it at thy hands.
Give me the leave to utter out my play;
Forbear this place; I humbly crave thee, hence!
And mix not death 'mongst pleasing comedies,
That treat nought else but pleasure and delight.
If any spark of human rests in thee,
Forbear