Merc. [To Night.] Madam Night, a good even to you! Fair and softly, I beseech you, madam; I have a word or two to you from no less a god than Jupiter.

Night. O my nimble-fingered god of theft, what makes you here on earth at this unseasonable hour? What banker's shop is to be broke open to-night? or what clippers, and coiners, and conspirators, have been invoking your deity for their assistance?

Merc. Faith, none of those enormities, and yet I am still in my vocation; for you know I am a jack of all trades. At a word, Jupiter is indulging his genius to-night with a certain noble sort of recreation; called wenching; the truth on't is, adultery is its proper name.

Night. Jupiter would do well to stick to his wife, Juno.

Merc. He has been married to her above these hundred years; and that's long enough, in conscience, to stick to one woman.

Night. She's his sister too, as well as his wife; that's a double tie of affection to her.

Merc. Nay, if he made bold with his own flesh and blood, 'tis likely he will not spare his neighbours.

Night. If I were his wife, I would raise a rebellion against him, for the violation of my bed.

Merc. Thou art mistaken, old Night; his wife could raise no faction. All the deities in heaven would take the part of the cuckold-making god, for they are all given to the flesh most damnably. Nay, the very goddesses would stickle in the cause of love; 'tis the way to be popular, to whore and love. For what dost thou think old Saturn was deposed, but that he was cold and impotent, and made no court to the fair ladies? Pallas and Juno themselves, as chaste as they are, cried, Shame on him!—I say unto thee, old Night, woe be to the monarch that has not the women on his side!

Night. Then, by your rule, Mercury, a king who would live happily, must debauch his whole nation of women.

Merc. As far as his ready money will go, I mean; for Jupiter himself can't please all of them.—But this is beside my present commission: He has sent me to will and require you to make a swinging long night for him, for he hates to be stinted in his pleasures.

Night. Tell him plainly, I'll rather lay down my commission. What, would he make a bawd of me?

Merc. Poor ignorant! why he meant thee for a bawd, when he first made thee. What art thou good for, but to be a bawd? Is not day-light better for mankind, I mean as to any other use, but only for love and fornication? Thou hast been a bawd too, a reverend, primitive, original bawd, from the first hour of thy creation; and all the laudable actions of love have been committed under thy mantle. Pr'ythee, for what dost thou think that thou art worshipped?

Night. Why, for my stars and moonshine.

Merc. That is, for holding a candle to iniquity. But if they were put out, thou would'st be doubly worshipped by the willing bashful virgins.

Night. Then, for my quiet, and the sweetness of my sleep.

Merc. No:—For thy sweet waking all the night; for sleep comes not upon lovers, till thou art vanished.

Night. But it will be against nature, to make a long winter's night at midsummer.

Merc. Trouble not yourself for that: Phœbus is ordered to make a short summer's day to-morrow; so, in four-and-twenty hours, all will be at rights again.

Night. Well, I am edified by your discourse; and my comfort is, that, whatever work is made, I see nothing.

Merc. About your business then. Put a spoke into your chariot-wheels, and order the seven stars to halt, while I put myself into the habit of a serving-man, and dress up a false Sosia, to wait upon a false Amphitryon.—Good night, Night.

Night. My service to Jupiter.—Farewell, Mercury.

[Night goes backward. Exit Mercury.