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I should think that your best Line will be thorow the whole length of France to Marseilles, and thence by Sea to Genoa, whence the passage into Tuscany is as Diurnal as a Gravesend Barge: I hasten as you do to Florence, or Siena, the rather tell you a short story from the interest you have given me in your safety.

At Siena I was tabled in the House of one Alberto Scipioni, an old Roman Courtier in dangerous times, having bin Steward to the Duca di Pagliano, who with all his Family were strangled save this onely man that escap’d by foresight of the Tempest: With him I had often much chat of those affairs; Into which he took pleasure to look back from his Native Harbour: and at my departure toward Rome (which had been the center of his experience) I had wonn confidence enough to beg his advice, how I might carry my self securely there, without offence of mine own conscience. Signor Arrigo mio (sayes he) I pensieri stretti, & il viso sciolto, will go safely over the whole World: Of which Delphian Oracle (for so I have found it) your judgement doth need no commentary; and therfore (Sir) I will commit you with it to the best of all securities, Gods dear love, remaining

Your Friend as much at command as any of longer date,

Henry Wootton.

Postscript.

SIR, I have expressly sent this my Foot-boy to prevent your departure without som acknowledgement from me of the receipt of your obliging Letter, having myself through som busines, I know not how, neglected the ordinary conveyance. In any part where I shall understand you fixed, I shall be glad, and diligent to entertain you with Home-Novelties; even for som fomentation of our friendship, too soon interrupted in the Cradle.

Note: Letter from Sir Henry Wootton: Omitted in 1673

A MASK PRESENTED At LUDLOW-Castle, 1634. etc.

The Persons.

The attendant Spirit afterwards in the habit of Thyrsis.
Comus with his crew.
The Lady.
1. Brother.
2. Brother.
Sabrina the Nymph.

The cheif persons which presented, were
The Lord Bracly.
Mr. Thomas Egerton his Brother,
The Lady Alice Egerton.

The first Scene discovers a wilde Wood.

The attendant Spirit descends or enters.

 

 Spir: Before the starry threshold of Joves Court
 

 My mansion is, where those immortal shapes
 

 Of bright aereal Spirits live insphear'd
 

 In Regions milde of calm and serene Ayr,
 

 Above the smoak and stirr of this dim spot,
 

 Which men call Earth, and with low-thoughted care
 

 Confin'd, and pester'd in this pin-fold here,
 

 Strive to keep up a frail, and Feaverish being
 

 Unmindfull of the crown that Vertue gives
 

 After this mortal change, to her true Servants  10
 

 Amongst the enthron'd gods on Sainted seats.
 

 Yet som there he that by due steps aspire
 

 To lay their just hands on that Golden Key
 

 That ope's the Palace of Eternity:
 

 To such my errand is, and but for such,
 

 I would not soil these pure Ambrosial weeds,
 

 With the rank vapours of this Sin-worn mould.
 

 But to my task. Neptune besides the sway
 

 Of every salt Flood, and each ebbing Stream,
 

 Took in by lot 'twixt high, and neather Jove,  20
 

 Imperial rule of all the Sea-girt Iles
 

 That like to rich, and various gemms inlay
 

  The unadorned boosom of the Deep,
 

 Which he to grace his tributary gods
 

 By course commits to severall government,
 

 And gives them leave to wear their Saphire crowns,
 

 And weild their little tridents, but this Ile
 

 The greatest, and the best of all the main
 

 He quarters to his blu-hair'd deities,
 

 And all this tract that fronts the falling Sun  30
 

 A noble Peer of mickle trust, and power
 

 Has in his charge, with temper'd awe to guide
 

 An old, and haughty Nation proud in Arms:
 

 Where his fair off-spring nurs't in Princely lore,
 

 Are coming to attend their Fathers state,
 

 And new-entrusted Scepter, but their way
 

 Lies through the perplex't paths of this drear Wood,
 

 The nodding horror of whose shady brows
 

 Threats the forlorn and wandring Passinger.
 

 And here their tender age might suffer perill,  40
 

 But that by quick command from Soveran Jove
 

 I was dispatcht for their defence, and guard;
 

 And listen why, for I will tell ye now
 

 What never yet was heard in Tale or Song
 

 >From old, or modern Bard in Hall, or Bowr.
 

 Bacchus that first from out the purple Grape,
 

 Crush't the sweet poyson of mis-used Wine
 

 After the Tuscan Mariners transform'd
 

 Coasting the Tyrrhene shore, as the winds listed,
 

 On Circes Hand fell (who knows not Circe     50
 

 The daughter of the Sun? Whose charmed Cup
 

 Whoever tasted, lost his upright shape,
 

 And downward fell into a groveling Swine)
 

 This Nymph that gaz'd upon his clustring locks,
 

 With Ivy berries wreath'd, and his blithe youth,
 

 Had by him, ere he parted thence, a Son
 

 Much like his Father, but his Mother more,
 

 Whom therfore she brought up and Comus named,
 

 Who ripe, and frolick of his full grown age,
 

 Roving the Celtic, and Iberian fields,      60
 

 At last betakes him to this ominous Wood,
 

 And in thick shelter of black shades imbowr'd,
 

 Excells his Mother at her mighty Art,
 

 Offring to every weary Travailer,
 

 His orient liquor in a Crystal Glasse,
 

 To quench the drouth of Phoebus, which as they taste
 

 (For most do taste through fond intemperate thirst )
 

 Soon as the Potion works, their human count'nance,
 

 Th' express resemblance of the gods, is chang'd
 

 Into som brutish form of Woolf, or Bear,     70
 

 Or Ounce, or Tiger, Hog, or bearded Goat,
 

 All other parts remaining as they were,
 

 And they, so perfect is their misery,
 

 Not once perceive their foul disfigurement,
 

 But boast themselves more comely then before
 

 And all their friends, and native home forget
 

 To roule with pleasure in a sensual stie.
 

 Therfore when any favour'd of high Jove,
 

 Chances to pass through this adventrous glade,
 

 Swift as the Sparkle of a glancing Star,     80
 

 I shoot from Heav'n to give him safe convoy,
 

 As now I do: But first I must put off
 

 These my skie robes spun out of Iris Wooff,
 

 And take the Weeds and likenes of a Swain,
 

 That to the service of this house belongs,
 

 Who with his soft Pipe, and smooth-dittied Song,
 

 Well knows to still the wilde winds when they roar,
 

 And hush the waving Woods, nor of lesse faith,
 

 And in this office of his Mountain watch,
 

 Likeliest, and neerest to the present ayd    90
 

 Of this occasion. But I hear the tread
 

 Of hatefull steps, I must be viewles now.