_Jul._ Here are sports (_Dons_) That you must look on with a loving eye, And without Censure, 'less it be giving My countrey neighbors loves their yearly offerings That must not be refus'd; though't be more pain To the Spectator, than the painful Actor, 'Twill abide no more test than the tinsel We clad our Masks in for an hours wearing, Or the Livery Lace sometimes on the cloaks Of a great _Don_'s Followers: I speak no further Than our own Countrey, Sir. _Mar._ For my part, Sir, The more absurd, 't shall be the better welcome. _Jul._ You'll find the guest you look for: I heard Cousin, You were at _Toledo_ th' other day. _Ant._ Not late, Sir. _Jul._ Oh fie! must I be plainer? You chang'd the point With _Tirso_ and _Lisauro_, two of the Stock Of our Antagonists, the _Bellides_. _Ant._ A meer proffer, Sir; the prevention Was quick with us: we had done somewhat else: This Gentleman was engag'd in't. _Jul._ I am The enemy to his foe for it: that wild-fire Will crave more than fair water, to quench it I suspect. Whence it will come I know not. _Enter two or three Gentlemen._ _Ant._ I was about a gentle reconcilement, But I do fear I shall goe back agen. _Jul._ Come, come; The Sports are coming on us: Nay, I have more guests to grace it: Welcome Don _Gostazo, Giraldo, Philippo_: Seat, seat all. [_Musick._ _Enter a_ Cupid. _Cup._ Love is little, and therefore I present him; Love is a fire, therefore you may lament him. _Mar._ Alas poor Love, who are they that can quench him? _Jul._ He's not without those members, fear him not. _Cup._ Love shoots, therefore I bear his bow about. And Love is blind, therefore my eyes are out. _Ma._ I never heard Love give reason for what he did before. _Enter_ Bustofa (_for_ Paris.) _Cup._ Let such as can s[e]e, see such as cannot: behold, Our goddesses all three strive for the ball of Gold: And here fair _Paris_ comes, the hopeful youth of _Troy_, Queen _Hecub_'s darling-son, King _Priams_ only joy. _Mart._ Is this _Paris_? I should have taken him for _Hector_ rather. _Bust. Paris_ at this time: Pray you hold your prating. _Ant. Paris_ can be angry. _Jul._ Oh at this time You must pardon him: he comes as a Judge. _Mar._ ---- Mercy on all that looks upon him, say I. _Bust._ The thundring seas whose watry fire washes the Whiting Mops. The gentle Whale, whose feet so fell, flies o'r the mountain tops. No roars so fierce, no throats so deep, no howls can bring such fears. As _Paris_ can, if Garden from he call his Dogs and Bears. _Mar._ I, those they were, that I fear'd all this while. _Bust._ Yes _Jack-an-Apes_. _Mar._ I thank you good _Paris_.