Take comfort, _Janus_; never feare thy head Which to the quick belongs, not to the dead. Thy wife did lye with one; thou, being dead drunke, Then art no Cuckold though she bee a Punke. Tis not the state nor soveraintie of _Jove_ Could draw thy pure affections from my love: Nor is there any _Venus_ in the skyes Could from thy lookes withdraw my greedy eyes. Leaves 30-51 are taken up with _Dick of Devonshire_. Then follows an unnamed play (leaves 52-73), written in a villainous hand. If I succeed in transcribing this play I shall print it in the third volume, for it seems to be an unpublished play of Heywood's. The next piece, entitled _Calisto_ (leaves 74-95), which is written in the same hand, consists of scenes from Heywood's _Golden Age_ and _Silver Age_. There are many variations from the printed copies, showing that the most active of the old playwrights found time to revise his works. Here is a song that was omitted in the printed copy. Its proper place in Pearson's _Reprint_ of Heywood is vol. iii. p. 67:-- Whether they be awake or sleepe, With what greate Care ought Virgins keepe, With what art and indevor, The Jewell which they ought to pryse Above the ritchest marchandise,-- And once lost lost for ever! Virginity is a rare gem, Rated above a diadem, And was despised never: 'Tis that at which the most men ayme And being gott they count their game And once lost lost for ever. Of the charming song "Haile beauteous _Dian_, Queene of Shades" the MS. gives a far inferior version:-- Thou _Trivia_, dost alone excell, In heaven when thou dost please to dwell Cald _Cynthia, Proserpine_ in Hell: But when thou theair art fyred And takest thy bugle and thy bowe, To chase on Earth the hart or doe, Thee for _Diana_ all men knowe, Who art mongst us admired: _Pan_ and _Pomona_ boath rejoyce, So swaynes and nimphes with pipe and voyce. Off all chast vestalls thou art queene Which are, which heretofore have been; The fawnes and satyres cladd in greene On earth wayte to attend thee; And when that thou on huntinge goest, In which thou art delighted moest, They off their active swiftnes boast, For which we all comend thee. _Pan_ and _Pomona_ boath rejoyce, So swaynes and nimphes with pipe and voyce. We come now to a chronicle play (leaves 97-118), _Edmond Ironside: The English King_. This piece had a second title--_A trew Chronicle History called War hath made all friends_. It must be confessed that this old play is a tedious business, sadly wanting in life and movement. The following extract will give a taste of the author's quality:-- _Enter Canutus, Edricus with other Lords and souldiers_.