CHAP. XVI.] 



THE FOURTH DA Y. 



179 



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But we'll take no care when the wea - ther proves fair ; Nor 



'| 



fc 



will we vex now though it rain ; We'll ban - ish all sor - row, and 



m 



m 



sing till to - mor - row, And an - gle, and an - gle 



- gain. 



PETER. I marry, Sir, this is music indeed ; this has cheer'd 

 my heart, and made me remember six verses in praise of music, 

 which I will speak to you instantly. 



Music I miraculous rhetoric, that speak'st sense 



Without a tongue, excelling eloquence ; 



With what ease might thy errors be excus'd, 



Wert thou as truly lov'd as th' art abus'd I 



But though dull souls neglect, and some reprove thee, 



I cannot hate thee, 'cause the Angels love thee.* 



VENATOR. And the repetition of these last verses of music 

 has called to my memory what Mr Edmund Waller, a lover of 

 the angle,t says of love and music. 



* See these Verses, with some small variation, at the end of the book, entitled Select 

 Ayres and Dialogues, referred to from pa. 200, n. ; with " IV. D. knight," under the 

 bottom line, which I take to signify that they were written by Sir William Davenant. 

 H. 



t In a poem " Of my Lady Isabella [Thynne] playing on the lute," Waller again 

 raises music in the following words : 



Such moving sounds, from such a careless touch 1 

 So unconcern 'd herself, and we so much 1 

 What art is this, that with so little pains 

 Transports us thus, and o'er our spirits reigns? 

 The trembling strings about her fingers crowd, 

 And tell their joy for ev'ry kiss aloud : 

 Small force there needs to make them tremble so ; 

 Touch'd by that hand, who would not tremble too ; 



