If my slight Muse may suit your noble merit,
My hopes are crown’d, and I shall cheer my spirit;
But if my weak quill droops or seems unfit,
’Tis not your want of worth, but mine of wit.
The servant of your honour’d virtues,
John Marston.

When her Ladyship approached the Park corner, a full noise of cornets winded; and when she entered into the Park, treble cornets reported one to another, as giving warning of her Honour’s nearer approach; when presently her eye was saluted with an antique gate, which suddenly was erected in this form. Upon the gate did hang many silver scrolls with this word in them, Tantum uni. Upon the battlements over the gate three gilt shields in diamond-figure, impaled on the top with three coronets purfled with gold, and severally inscribed with

silver words; in the first shield, Venisti tandem; in the second, Nostra sera; in the third, Et sola voluptas. Over these, upon a half sphere, stood embossed an antique figure gilt; the slight tower to this gate, which were only raised for show, were set out with battlements, shields, and coronets suitable to the rest. When the Countess came near the gate an old enchantress in crimson velvet, with pale face, black hair, and disliking countenance, affronted her Ladyship, and thus rudely saluted her:—

Woman, Lady, Princess, Nymph, or Goddess,
For more you are not, and you seem no less;
Stay, and attempt not passage through this port,
Here the pale Lord of Sadness keep his court,
Rough-visag’d Saturn, on whose bloodless cheeks,
Dull Melancholy sits, who straightly seeks
To seize on all that enter through this gate.
Grant gracious listening, and I shall relate
The means, the manner, and of all the sense,
Whilst your fair eye enforceth eloquence.
There was a time (and since that time the sun
Hath not yet through nine signs of heaven run)
When the high Sylvan, that commands these woods,
And his bright Nymph, fairer than Queen of Floods,
With most impatient longings hoped to view
Her face to whom their hearts’ dear’st zeal was due.
Youth’s joys to love, sweet light unto the blind,
Beauty to virgins, or what wit can find

Most dearly wished, was not so much desired
As she to them; O my dull soul is fired
To tell their longings, but it is a piece
That would o’erload the famous tongues of Greece.
Yet long they hop’d, till Rumour struck Hope dead,
And showed their wishes were but flatterèd;
For scarce her chariot cut the easy earth,
And journeyed on, when Winter with cold breath
Crosseth her way, her borrowed hair doth shine
With glittering icicles all crystalline;
Her brows were periwigg’d with softer snow,
Her russet mantle, fringed with ice below,
Sat[610] stiffly on her back; she thus came forth,
Ushered with tempest of the frosty North;
And seeing her, she thought she sure had seen
The sweet-breath’d Flora, the bright Summer’s Queen.
So full of cheerful grace she did appear,
That Winter feared her face recalled the year,
And forced untimely springs to seize her right,
Whereat with anger and malicious spite
She vows revenge; straight with tempestuous wings,
From Taurus, Alps, and Scythian rocks she flings
Their covering off, and here their thick fur spread,
That patient earth was almost smotherèd.
Up Boreas mounts, and doth so strongly blow
Athwart her way huge drifts of blinding snow,

That mountain-like, at length heaps rose so high,
Man’s sight might doubt whether Heaven or Earth were sky.
Hereat she turnèd back, and left her way
(Necessity all mortals must obey);
Which was no sooner voiced and hither flown,
It sads me but to think what grief was shown;
Which to augment (mishap ne’er single falls),
The God of Sadness and of Funerals,
Of heavy pensiveness and discontent,
Cold and dull Saturn hither straight was sent.
Myself, Merimna, who still wait upon
Pale Melancholy and Desolation,
Usher’d him in, when straight we strongly seize
All this sad house, and vowed no means should ease
These heavy bands which pensive Saturn tied,
Till with wish’d grace this house was beautified.
Pace then no further, for vouchsafe to know,
Till her approach here can no comfort grow;
’Tis only one can their sad bondage break,
Whose worth I may admire, not dare to speak.
She’s so complete, that her much honoured state
Gives Fortune Virtue, makes Virtue fortunate;
As one in whom three rare mix’d virtues sit
Seen seldom joinèd, Fortune, Beauty, Wit;
To this choice Lady and to her dear state
All hearts do open, as alone this gate;
She only drives away dull Saturn hence,
She whom to praise I need her eloquence!

This speech thus ended, presently Saturn issued from forth the port, and curiously beholding the Countess, spake thus:—

Peace! stay, it is, it is, it is even she!
Hail happy honours of Nobility!
Did never Saturn see, or ne’er see such?
What should I style you? what choice phrase may touch,
Or hopes in words such wondrous grace to suit,
Whose worth doth want an equal attribute.
Let never mortal wondering silence break,
Since to express you Gods themselves must speak.
Sweet glories of your sex, know that your eyes
Makes mild the roughest planet of the skies.
Even we, the Lord that sits on ebon thrones,
Circled with sighs and discontented groans,
Are forced at your fair presence to relent,
At your approach all Saturn’s force is spent.
Now breaks my bands, now sadness leaves their towers,
Now all are turn’d to Flora’s smiling bowers;
Then now give way, now is my bondage due
Only to those who safely envy you.
Hence, solitary Beldam, sink to-night,
I give up all to joy, and to delight.
And now pass on, all-happy-making dame!
O could you but imagine what a flame
Of many joys now in their bosoms shine
Who count it their dear’st honour to be thine,

You would aver, to number[611] them who seeks
Must sure invent some new arithmetics,
For who to cast their reckoning takes in hand
Had need for counters take the ocean-sand.
Their service is your right, your love their due
Who only love themselves for loving you.
Their palace waits you with so hearty gate
Men cannot utter nor Gods scarce relate.

Then passed the whole troop to the house, until the Countess had mounted the stairs to the great chamber; on the top of which, Merimna, having changed her habit all to white, met her, and, whilst a consort softly played, spake thus:—