Buckingham employed the poet’s pen at his own expense, and himself enacted the Captain of the gipsies; and, in his disguise, marching up to the King, he thus addressed him, with the freedom of his lawless tribe:— With you, lucky bird, I begin: I aim at the best, and I trow you are he, Here’s some luck already, if I understand The grounds of mine art; here’s a gentleman’s hand, I’ll kiss it for luck sake; you should, by this line,[312] Love a horse and a hound, but no part of a swine;[313] To hunt the brave stag, not so much for the food As the weal of your body and wealth of your blood. Footnote 312: The line of life in Palmistry is the line encompassing the ball of the thumb.—See, for this masque, Gifford’s edition of Ben Jonson. Footnote 313: James’s known dislike of pork was one trait of his Scottish descent. In this fashion did Buckingham flatter the tastes of James, who, priding himself on his prowess in the chase, which he followed in a ruff and trowsers,[314] was charmed with any allusion to his favourite diversion. Footnote 314: Grainger. As the Captain of the Gipsies further pursued the telling of the King’s fortune, his verse changed its metre, and touched on more serious themes:— Could any doubt that saw this hand, Or who you are, or what command You have upon the state of things? Or would not say you were let down From Heaven, on Earth, to be the Crown And top of all your neighbour Kings? In another verse, he gracefully referred to the royal bounty to himself:— Myself a gipsy here do shine, Yet are you maker, sir, of mine. Oh! that confession should content So high a bounty, that doth know No part of motion but to flow, And giving, never to repent. These poetical addresses were interspersed with dances and songs. After the second dance, a gipsy, supposed to be Viscount Purbeck, the brother of the Marquis, paid a tribute to Prince Charles:— As my Captain hath begun With the sire, I take the son! Your hand, sir! Of your fortune be secure, Love and she are both at your Command, sir! See what states are here at strife, Who shall tender you a wife, A brave one? And a fitter for a man Than is offered here, you can Not have one. She is sister of a Star, One, the noblest that now are, Bright Hesper;