Certainly one cannot complain of a want of incident here. Nor is there
any lack of that complex subordination of scene to scene, that building
of one event upon another which is the foundation of skilful
plot-structure. In this play Lyly justifies himself against those who
would conclude from others of his plays that he could not construct a
plot. Yet it is a disappointing comedy. Nor is the reason hard to
discover. The first dozen pages show that, apart from the caricatured
Sir Tophas and the inevitable Pages (or Servants), all the characters
speak in exactly the same way, in fact are the same persons in all but
condition. The well-managed contrast noticed in _Damon and Pythias_ has
no place in Lyly's arrangement of characters. Were the relation of
circumstance and individual hidden, no one would know from a given
speech whether Cynthia, Tellus, or Dipsas was speaking; nor would
Endymion, Eumenides and Geron be better distinguished. This, for
example, is from the lips of the old hag, Dipsas, as, spreading her
enchantments around her victim, she mutters over his head the curse of a
blasted life.

Thou that layest down with golden locks shalt not awake until they
be turned to silver hairs; and that chin, on which scarcely
appeareth soft down, shall be filled with bristles as hard as
broom: thou shalt sleep out thy youth and flowering time, and
become dry hay before thou knewest thyself green grass; and ready
by age to step into the grave when thou wakest, that was youthful
in the court when thou laidest thee down to sleep.

There is one scene in the main plot which invites special mention,
namely, that in which the fairies appear. This, their first entrance
into English drama, must have created a mild sensation amongst the