_Bacon._ I find[237] by deep prescience of mine art, Which once I temper'd in my secret cell, That here where Brute did build his Troynovant, From forth the royal garden of a king Shall flourish out so rich and fair a bud, Whose brightness shall deface proud Phœbus' flower, And overshadow Albion with her leaves. Till then Mars shall be master of the field, But then the stormy threats of wars shall cease: The horse shall stamp as careless of the pike, Drums shall be turn'd to timbrels of delight; With wealthy favours plenty shall enrich The strand that gladded wandering Brute to see; And peace from heaven shall harbour in these leaves, That, gorgeous, beautify this matchless flower: Apollo's heliotropion then shall stoop, And Venus' hyacinth shall vail her top; Juno shall shut her gilliflowers up, And Pallas' bay shall 'bash her brightest green; Ceres' carnation, in consort with those, Shall stoop and wonder at Diana's rose. _K. Hen._ This prophecy is mystical.-- But, glorious commanders of Europa's love, That make fair England like that wealthy isle Circled with Gihon and swift Eúphrates, In royalizing Henry's Albion With presence of your princely mightiness,-- Let's march: the tables all are spread, And viands, such as England's wealth affords, Are ready set to furnish out the boards. You shall have welcome, mighty potentates: It rests to furnish up this royal feast, Only your hearts be frolic; for the time Craves that we taste of naught but jouissance. Thus glories England over all the west. [_Exeunt Omnes._ _Omne tulit punctum qui miscuit utile dulci._ JAMES THE FOURTH