_naivete_. Less natural, of course, is the story of Cupid's
mischief; yet mythology never gave to the stage a prettier piece of
love-moralizing than is found in the scene of Cupid at his penal task of
untying love-knots.--The very opening lines of the play announce the
presence of Nature with her sunshine and grass and good substantial
oaks.

_Tyterus._ The sun doth beat upon the plain fields; wherefore let
us sit down, Gallathea, under this fair oak, by whose broad leaves
being defended from the warm beams, we may enjoy the fresh air
which softly breathes from Humber floods.

_Gallathea._ Father, you have devised well; and whilst our flock
doth roam up and down this pleasant green, you shall recount to me,
if it please you, for what cause this tree was dedicated unto
Neptune, and why you have thus disguised me.

It is hard to do justice to such a play as this except by considerable
generosity in the matter of quotations. Accordingly we offer three
passages illustrative of the delicacy of our author's art.

(1)

[GALLATHEA _and_ PHILLIDA, _in disguise, meet for the first time._]

_Gallathea_ (_at the close of a soliloquy_). But whist! here cometh
a lad. I will learn of him how to behave myself.

_Phillida_ (_entering_). I neither like my gate nor my garments,
the one untoward, the other unfit, both unseemly. O Phillida! But
yonder stayeth one, and therefore say nothing. But O, Phillida!

_Gallathea._ I perceive that boys are in as great disliking of
themselves as maids; therefore, though I wear the apparel, I am
glad I am not the person.

_Phillida._ It is a pretty boy and a fair; he might well have been
a woman. But because he is not I am glad I am, for now, under the
colour of my coat, I shall decipher the follies of their kind.

_Gallathea._ I would salute him, but I fear I should make a curtsey
instead of a leg.

_Phillida._ If I durst trust my face as well as I do my habit I
would spend some time to make pastime, for say what they will of a
man's wit, it is no second thing to be a woman.

_Gallathea._ All the blood in my body would be in my face if he
should ask me (as the question among men is common), 'Are you a
maid?'

_Phillida._ Why stand I still? Boys should be bold. But here cometh
a brave train that will spill all our talk.

[_Enter