audience; but, refusing them to one of the shepherds, has a riotous dispute with him. The shepherd tauntingly offers Fame to spread the praises of King Manuel through the world as well as she does, if she will but lend him her wings. The goddess consents. He puts them on and attempts to fly, but falls headlong on the stage, with which poor practical jest and a _villancico_ the piece ends. The other drama, called “Hymenea,” is better, and gives intimations of what became later the foundations of the national theatre. Its “Introyto,” or prologue, is coarse, but not without wit, especially in those parts which, according to the peculiar toleration of the times, were allowed to make free with religion, if they but showed sufficient reverence for the Church. The story is entirely invented, and may be supposed to have passed in any city of Spain. The scene opens in front of the house of Febea, the heroine, before daylight, where Hymeneo, the hero, after making known his love for the lady, arranges with his two servants to give her a serenade the next night. When he is gone, the servants discuss their own position, and Boreas, one of them, avows his desperate love for Doresta, the heroine’s maid; a passion which, through the rest of the piece, becomes the running caricature of his master’s. But at this moment the Marquis, a brother of Febea, comes with his servants into the street, and, by the escape of the others, who fly immediately, has little doubt that there has been love-making about the house, and goes away determined to watch more carefully. Thus ends the first act, which might furnish materials for many a Spanish comedy of the seventeenth century. In the second act, Hymeneo enters with his servants and musicians, and they sing a _cancion_ which reminds us of the sonnet in Molière’s “Misantrope,” and a _villancico_ which is but little better. Febea then appears in the balcony, and after a conversation, which, for its substance and often for its graceful manner, might have been in Calderon’s “Dar la Vida por su Dama,” she promises to receive her lover the next night. When she is gone, the servants and the master confer a little together, the master showing himself very generous in his happiness; but they all escape at the approach of the Marquis, whose suspicions are thus fully confirmed, and who is with difficulty restrained by his page from attacking the offenders at once. The next act is devoted entirely to the loves of the servants. It is amusing, from its caricature of the troubles and trials of their masters, but does not advance the action at all, The fourth, however, brings the hero and lover into the lady’s house, leaving his attendants in the street, who confess their cowardice to one another, and agree to run away, if the Marquis appears. This happens immediately. They escape, but leave a cloak, which betrays who they are, and the Marquis remains undisputed master of the ground at the end of the act.