eagle that can fly to any place." He sets off for England, where the Prince of Cyprus is gone to woo the king's daughter.

At the English court Andelocia is mad for the love of the Princess Agripyne. The king instructs his daughter to feed him with hopes, and find the royal vein of the Cypriot's golden mine. The crafty Agripyne thus tells her success to the king :

I made him drink

That soporiferous juice which was compos'd
To make the queen (my mother) relish sleep,
When her last sickness summon'd her to heaven.
He sleeps profoundly: when his amorous eyes
Had sing'd their wings in Cupid's wanton flames,
I set him all on fire, and promis'd love :
In pride whereof, he drew me forth this purse,
And swore by this he multiplied his gold:
I tried and found it true; and secretly
Commanded music with her silver tongue
To chime soft lullabies into his soul;
And whilst my fingers wanton'd with his hair
(T' intice the sleepy juice to charm his eyes)
In all points was there made a purse like his,
Which counterfeit is hung in place of this.
The Chorus' continues the story:

:

Gentles, if ere you have beheld the passions,
The combats of his soul who being a king,
By some usurping hand hath been depos'd
From all his royalties, even such a soul,

Such eyes, such heart swoll'n big with sighs and tears,
The star-cross'd son of Fortunatus wears.

His thoughts crown'd him a monarch in the morn,

Yet now he 's bandied by the seas in scorn,

From wave to wave; his golden treasure's spoil
Makes him in desperate language to entreat
The winds to spend their fury on his life;
But they, being mild in tyranny, or scorning
To triumph in a wretch's funeral,
Toss him to Cyprus: Oh! what treachery
Cannot this serpent gold entice us to?
He robs his brother of the Soldan's prize,
And having got his wish, the wishing hat,
He does not, as he would, seek misery,
But hopes by that to win his purse again;
And in that hope from Cyprus is he fled.

If your swift thoughts clap on their wonted wings,
In Genoa may you take this fugitive;
Where having cosened many jewellers,

To England back he comes; step but to court,
And there, disguis'd, you find him bargaining
For jewels with the beauteous Agripyne,
Who wearing at her side the virtuous purse
He clasps her in his arms, and as a raven
Griping the tender-hearted nightingale,
So flies he with her, wishing, in the air
To be transported to some wilderness :
Imagine this the place: see here they come.

In the wilderness to which Andelocia flies, there had been planted two trees-the tree of Virtue and the tree of Vice. At their planting Virtue says,

How many kingdoms have I measured,

Only to find a climate apt to cherish

These withering branches? but no ground can prove
So happy: Ah me! none do virtue love;

I'll try this soil; if here they likewise fade,

To heaven I'll fly, from whence I took my birth,
And tell the gods, I am banish'd from the earth.

Vice rejoinds,

Virtue, I am sworn thy foe; if there thou plant,
Here opposite to thine my tree shall flourish,
And, as the running woodbine, spread her arms
To choke thy withering boughs in their embrace;
I'll drive thee from this world: were Virtue fled,
Vice as an angel should be honoured.

Andelocia sees the tree of Vice, and climbs it to get golden apples for the fainting Agripyne-apples with "a most sugar'd delicious taste in the mouth, but when down, as bitter as gall." He throws the lady an apple, but he will reach the topmost bough. "I will have yonder highest apple, though I die for it: hold,-catch,-put on my hat." The princess wishes herself in England. The fruit of Vice has deformed both--they become horned. Andelocia, in his solitary wretchedness, thus deplores his folly :

She flies like lightning: oh, she hears me not!
I wish'd myself into a wilderness,

And now I shall turn wild: here I shall famish,

Here die; here cursing die, here raving die ;

And thus will wound my breast, and rend my hair.
What hills of flint are grown upon my brows?
Oh, me! two forked horns: I am turn'd beast,

I have abus'd two blessings, wealth and knowledge;
Wealth in my purse, and knowledge in my
hat;
By which being borne into the courts of kings,
I might have seen the wondrous works of Jove,
Acquir'd experience, learning, wisdom, truth;
But I in wildness totter'd out my youth,

And therefore must turn wild; must be a beast,
An ugly beast: my body horns must bear,

Because my soul deformity doth wear.

He sleeps; and then Fortune, Virtue, and Vice appear to him:

And. I am beset with anguish, shame, and death.
Oh, bid the Fates work fast, and stop my breath.
For. No, Andelocia, thou must live to see
Worse torments, for thy follies, light on thee.
This golden tree, which did thine eyes entice,
Was planted here by Vice: lo, here stands Vice:
How often hast thou sued to win her grace?

And. Till now, I never did behold her face.
For. Thou didst behold her at thy father's death,
When thou in scorn didst violate his will;
Thou didst behold her, when thy stretch'd-out arm
Catch'd at the highest bough, the loftiest vice,
The fairest apple, but the foulest price;
Thou didst behold her, when thy lickerish eye
Fed on the beauty of fair Agripyne;

Because thou 'dst gold, thou thoughtst all women thine.
When look'dst thou off from her? for they whose souls
Still revel in the nights of vanity,

On the fair cheeks of Vice still fix their eye.
Because her face doth shine, and all her bosom
Bears silver moons, thou wast enamour'd of her.
But hadst thou upward look'd, and seen these shames,
Or view'd her round about, and in this glass
Seen idiots' faces, heads of devils and hell,
And read this ha! ha! he! this merry story,

Thou wouldst have loath'd her; where, by loving her,
Thou bear'st this face, and wear'st this ugly head;
And if she once can bring thee to this place,
Loud sounds these ha! ha! he! she 'll laugh apace.

And. Oh, re-transform me to a glorious shape, And I will learn how I may love to hate her.

For. I cannot re-transform thee; woo this woman. And. This woman? wretched is my state, when I, To find out wisdom, to a fool must fly.

For. Fool, clear thine eyes; this is bright Areté,
This is poor Virtue; care not how the world

Doth crown her head; the world laughs her to scorn,
Yet sibi sapit, Virtue knows her worth.

Run after her, she 'll give thee these and these,
Crowns and bay garlands, honour's victories:
Serve her, and she will fetch thee pay from heaven;
Or give thee some bright office in the stars.

And. (Kneels.) Immortal Areté, Virtue divine,
Oh, smile on me! and I will still be thine.

Vir. Smile thou on me, and I will still be thine;
Though I am jealous of thy apostacy,

I'll entertain thee: here, come taste this tree,
Here's physic for thy sick deformity.

And. 'Tis bitter: this fruit I shall ne'er digest.
Vir. Try once again; the bitterness soon dies.
Vice. Mine 's sweet, taste mine.

Vir. But being down 'tis sour;

And mine being down, has a delicious taste.
The path that leads to Virtue's court is narrow,

Thorny, and up hill; a bitter journey;

But being gone through, you find all heav'nly sweets;

The entrance is all flinty, but at th' end,

To towers of pearl and crystal you ascend.

And. Oh, delicate! Oh, sweet ambrosian relish ! And see, my ugliness drops from my brows; Thanks, beauteous Areté! Oh, had I now

My hat and purse again! how I would shine,

And gild my soul with none but thoughts divine.

For. That shall be tried: take fruit from both these trees,

By help of them, win both thy purse and hat:

I will instruct thee how, for on my wings

To England shalt thou ride; thy virtuous brother
Is, with that Shadow who attends on thee,
In London, there I'll set thee presently.
But if thou lose our favours once again

To taste her sweets, those sweets must prove thy bane.
Vir. Vice, who shall now be crown'd with victory?
Vice. She that triumphs at last, and that must I.

Andelocia arrives at the court of England with his apples. His purse is still in the possession of the princess, and so is his wishing-cap. The lady is inconsolable on account of her deformity. Andelocia, as a physician, arrives to cure her.

"She has my purse, and yonder lies my hat."

He gets the hat on, and, seizing the princess, wishes himself with his brother Ampedo. He takes the purse from Agripyne, dismisses her to her father, and gives her the medicinal apple to cure her deformity. Andelocia gives the hat to his brother, and again relapses into his riotous mood: " Away with your purity, brother! you're an ass: why doth this purse spit out gold but to be spent!-pleasure is my sweet mistress." Ampedo, true to his character of inactive goodness, burns the miraculous hat.

As this doth perish,

So shall the other: count what good and bad
They both have wrought, the good is to the ill,
As a small pebble to a mighty hill.

Thy glory and thy mischiefs here shall burn,
Good gifts abus'd to man's confusion turn.

Ampedo has thrown away his power. He is seized, and cast into prison, as the brother of Andelocia, by two courtiers, who desire to possess the cap and the purse. Andelocia is also powerless without the hat, and is thrown into the same dungeon as his brother. strophe is thus given by the poet :

Amp. In want, in misery, in woe, and care,
Poor Ampedo his fill hath surfeited;

My want is famine, bolts my misery;
My care and woe should be thy portion.

And. Give me that portion; for I have a heart
Shall spend it freely, and make bankrupt
The proudest woe that ever wet man's eye.
Care with a mischief! wherefore should I care?
Have I rid side by side with mighty kings,

Yet be thus bridled now? I'll tear these fetters.

Murder! cry murder, Ampedo, aloud:

To bear this scorn our fortunes are too proud.

Amp. Oh, folly! thou hast power to make flesh glad,

When the rich soul in wretchedness is clad.

And. Peace, fool! am not I Fortune's minion?

These bands are but one wrinkle of her frown;

The cata