Between the Pageant and the Play stands the Masque, a form of entertainment which achieved its greatest splendour both in stage mounting and in the words and songs in the reigns of Elizabeth and James I. Nowhere was the Masque more carefully studied and more magnificently presented than in London. The scenic display which in the early theatre was so meagre was carried in the Masque to a height never surpassed until the splendid shows of the present day. Nor did the greatest poets disdain to write words for the Masque. The most beautiful of those which remain are to be found in Ben Jonson's works. Every great man's house had a hall which was used for the Masque. Bacon, who gives directions for building a house, orders that there must be a room built on purpose for these performances. Under it is to be another room for the actors to dress and for the 'properties'--i.e. the things requisite for the presentation of the Masque, such as scenery, the woods, fountains, rocks, palaces, &c.--that might be required. Let us show what a Masque was like by describing one of Ben Jonson's. It is called the Masque of Oberon, and was performed before Prince Henry, the eldest son of James I., who died in youth. The scene presents a rock with trees beyond it and 'all the wildness that can be presented.' All is dark. Presently the moon rising shows a Satyr, one of the beings with whom the ancients peopled the forests and wild places. They were drawn with the feet and legs of goats, short horns on the head, and the body covered with thick hair. This Satyr lifts his head and calls his companions. There is no answer. He blows his cornet. Echo answers him. He blows again, and is again mocked by the Echo. A third time he blows, and other Satyrs come leaping and dancing upon the stage. Silenus, their leader, bids them prepare to see the young Prince Oberon. The scene opens: the rocks and forests disappear: there is shown a glorious palace whose walls and gates are transparent. Before the gates lie asleep two 'Sylvans'--i.e. men of the woods. The Satyrs gather round these sleeping sentinels and wake them up with singing: Buzz, quoth the blue fly: Hum, quoth the bee: Buzz and hum they cry And so do we. In his ear, in his nose, Thus do you see? [They tickle them.] He ate the dormouse Else it was he.