University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

The SCENE appears more lightned; Variety of Birds are heard Singing; and several Flutes, as suppos'd, play'd on by the Inhabitants, Shepherds then.
Enter Apollo, dress'd like a Shepherd; with him Endimion.
Heark! Heark, Endimion! Listen to these Strains,
The skilful Breath of some contented Swains,
That know the Soul of Life is Harmony:
Mind every Note, observe each softning Cadence;
And when thou hast done feasting thy pleased Ear,
Then tell me if Apollo is not wretched,
Beyond the basest Mortal here below.
Divine Apollo, Jove will soon relent,
Finding his Glories dearkned by the Loss
Of the chief Light of his Eternal Palace,
The God of Musick, Wit, and Poetry;
As he is just, he's merciful: I once prov'd it,
When an abhorr'd Detractor, the Court being here,
Envying the Grace I found in Juno's Eyes,
Strove to possess him, that she was too kind;
Then urg'd him straight to doom me, for Presumption,
To take a Drug brought out of Hell from Proserpine,
Which could cause Sleep perpetual: But Jove,
Scorning his Malice, rais'd me more to Favour,
And so, no doubt, e're long he will Apollo.
Banish your Grief then, and unclowd your Eye;
These Strains, alas! are dull, when you are by.

Apol.
Once I indeed was Soveraign of Arts,
When through the dazling Empire of the Sky,
No Deity aspiring to be found
Durst vie with me to please my Heavenly Father;
The Lucid Glories circled round my Head;
And when I sung, and touch'd my charming Lyre,
None durst presume to equal, but admire.

Endim.
Are ye not still the same?

Apol.
Oh no, 'tis gone:
My Godhead now is dwindled to Mortality,
My Triumph's turn'd to Sorrow, which still drop
From my full Eyes, like Showers of Winter Rain;
I now retain no Spark of what's Above,
Or of Divinity, but that I love.

Endim.
The ambitious Son of Neptune, the fierce Cyclops,
That forg'd the Thunder for the King of Gods,
Slain by your Hand, I know first caus'd your Exit:
But of your Love, till now, I nothing knew;
Sure great Apollo is not unsuccessful.

Apol.
Whiter than Parian Marble, but as cold
Is the Celestial Nymph that I adore;
She has a Face where Beauty sits in State,
Adorn'd with blooming Sweets, two Starry Eyes,
Bright as her Soul, so Heavenly languishing,
So full of liquid Love, and sprightly Joy,
That an old Critick, dogged from his Cradle,
And bred unnatural, would gaze and wonder;
A Glance shou'd so confound Philosophy;
Her Name is Daphne.

Endim.
Then I know her well,
She now has Residence in Cinthia's Court.

Apol.
So Hermes told me on Amphrisus Bank,
Where late I kept the King Admestus's Sheep,
In which Degree Jove's dreadful Rage then plac'd me:
For her Sake, loving Youth, I wander here,
Courting the mournful Shades obscurely,
The worst of Mortals now, tho' rate it Deity.

Endim.
If Love Omnipotence design'd a Curse,
I am most Curst of all poor Human Kind;
Beauty o're me so absolute does Reign,
I think it Heaven to Love, altho' in vain:
Yet all must own the Passion Great and Noble;
A Joy the best of all the Gods has sigh'd for,
And to obtain it chang'd Immortal Being.
Oh! Cinthia, thou Extream of Excellence.
[Aside.
But hold, rash Tongue, thy helpless Woe conceal,
This Mistery Fate only must Reveal.

Enter Hermes.
Hermes.
Endimion, from the Starry Queen I come,
To Summon your Attendance at their Revils;
By leave from Jove to finish an Affair,
Of some great Consequence, she lately here Descended.
But yet, as if he blam'd her Curiosity,
He smiling gave Command, that for a Month,
The time ordain'd for her Abode on Eearth,
That she, and all of us should be Translated,
And in a Mortal State be Subject to
The Accidents, Passions, and Punishments
Of this Inferiour World. You'll have good Sport faith,
For ten to one some of our Gods fly out
To try their new Humanity: For my part
If I 'scape Whipping-post, or Stocks, I'm happy.

Endim.
With eager Duty I obey the Summons;
'Twill be some Pleasure to stand gasing by,
For tho'it starve my Heart, 'twill feast my Eye.
[Exit Endim.

Herm.
Wonder invades my Sense, yet no disguise,
Can hide the great Apollo from my Eyes:
I know that Awful, Godlike Form too well;
And know, besides, 'twas Daphne brought him hither.
Oh! Love, how powerful is thy Decree,
'Mongst all the Gods, sure I shall envy thee.
How blest are those caught in thy charming Snare;
And yet how blest am I whose Heart's as free as Air.

Apollo.
You'r merry, Hermes.

Hermes.
Brisk as the wanton Winds,
That kiss the Beauty of the blooming Spring:
I have no Female-tyrants to torment me,
Employ'd with my two Trades, Lying and Stealing:
I've been so full of Business, Love is routed,
I have no time for silly Sighs and Whinings;
The most attractive Nymphs I dare defie,
And all the Shafts in Love's Artiliry.

Apollo.
Take heed, he'll be reveng'd unless by Art,
You steal away the Weapons that should wound ye.

Herm.
By Styx, I'll do't, if e're I catch him sleeping.
Last night I stole away one of Juno's Teeth;
And 'twould have made you laugh to to see the Goddess
Mumping her Chops, and mumble her Ambrosia,
Like an old Wrincled Beldam at a Feast.

Apoll.
No doubt 'twas good diversion.

Herm.
But the most pleasant Theft that e're I made,
Was upon Venus when I stole her Cestos:
When cunning Zephire fann'd her Tinsel-robes,
Discovering the white World of naked Beauties,
To all the wondring Synod of the Gods.

Apoll.
Since your dislike of Love has made you Wise,
I think I ought to Court you for Advice.
What think you of a Woman?

Herm.
As a Creature,
That a Man is cheated with by Partial Nature.
A fine gay colour'd Weed, a guilded Pill,
A dear, damn'd, pretty, necessary Ill.

Apoll.
Yet Men their Praise in loftiest Wit express.

Herm.
That's but a smoother carrying on the Jest,
And make the coy Fools easier to Possess.

Apoll.
But Constancy in Love.

Herm.
Sure never was.
'Tis a dull Notion to explain an Ass.
The constant Wretch that does but one adore,
Has neither Wit, or Courage, to Love more.

Apoll.
This Vice of Roving's natural to Hermes.
But prithee Friend go and Solicite for me,
Thou hast a winning Tongue, practice on Daphne:
Tell her my Love, in influencing Words,
Gain her, and make Apollo thine for ever.

Herm.
If Lying, which you know is my chief Talent,
Will work upon her, she shall have enough on't.
I'll go, and my best Skill on th'Instant prove,
And if a wheedling Tongue, or Tears can move,
The God of Wit shall never dye for Love.
[Exit Herm.

Apoll.
By my Heart's throbbing anguish it appears,
That with Mortality I have its Cares.
Ah! why should Love a Torment prove to me,
That is to others a Felicity.
The Harmony that tunes their jarring Strife,
And sweetens all the Cares of anxious Life:
Crowning a Mortal with as blest a Fate,
As a superiour Power that did Create.

Here a Symphony of Flutes and Hautboys are heard.
Apoll.
By these delightful Sounds that charm my Ear,
Too well I find the God of Love is near:
And see he comes Triumphant through the Sky,
Bourn by the Winds that Kiss him as they fly.
In yon's close Covert I'll my self Conceal;
I dare not tempt new Wounds till the old can heal.
[Exit Apollo.

Cupid Descends, antended by Zephirus.
Cupid.
Enter Psyche.
The First Song by Zephirus.

Enter Psyche.
Psyche.
Cloy'd with the noisie Court, the seat of Care,
As I each evening hither come for Air:
Harmonicus sounds fill all the hallowed Grove,
A charming Consort, singing tales of Love.
Sure Jove his Sacred Choir does hither bring,
But what, Oh! what is Love, of what they sing?

Cupid.
Love is what does all mortal Joy controul,
The best and noblest Passion of the Soul.
Jove's kindest Gift, for by its Rapture we
May find the bliss of Immortality.
Sit down fair Charmer, and for your delight,
Love, that has fed your Ear, shall please your Sight.

Psyche.
What Heavenly Visions in this place appear?
And what a beautious God-like thing is here?
Not to sit by him were my self to wrong,
For sure he cannot hurt me he's so young.

A Dance of Cupid's Lovers here.
Cupid.
Now does not Love all other Joys excel?

Psyche.
Alas! what have you done? I am not well.
Methinks I feel an aching throbbing Pain,
Here at my Heart.

Cupid.
That shall be gone again.

Psyche.
Shall it oh! when?

Cupid.
Dear Charmer, when you prove
So kind to bless me with the fruits of Love.

Psyche.
The fruits of Love! do I the Garden know?
Are they Fruits! where do they grow?
The Pain does now my Heart so strangely seize,
I would give any thing to purchase Ease.

Cupid.
But these are not the Fruits that you must grant.

Psyche.
I sigh, and wish, and know not what I want;
Tell me, what are they?

Cupid.
You must kiss me.

Psyche.
Fie.

Cupid.
Love and embrace me.

Psyche.
For the World, not I:
I never heard so confident a Boy.

Cupid.
A Boy! Do not my Courage by the Stature scan;
Kiss me, and you shall find I am a Man;
Turn this way, Sweet, and the soft Blessing prove
The dear Preparative to Rapture Love.

Psyche.
He wins upon me strangely, and his Tongue
I fear would charm my Heart, should I stay long.
And see, methinks, his Frame is alter'd quite,
And now he's grown up to a manly Height.
Psyche, away, to Cinthia streight retire,
Her Name's a Charm to quench all amourous Fire.
Cinthia the Chaste, sworn Foe to loose Desire.
In the Perfection of all Virtues bright,
Serene and pure, as her own Orb of Light.

Cupid.
Cinthia, nor all the Deities above,
Have Power enough to make Defence from Love;
And since a Kiss your Errour makes you blame,
Cinthia you so adore should do the same.

Psyche.
What? Kiss a Man!

Cupid.
So let me gain Love's Fruit,
As you on Latimus-top shall see her do't.

Psyche.
If not, shall I be free?

Cupid.
Free as the Air.

Psyche.
Then I am near the end of all my Care;
For Cinthia never can commit such Faults,
Her Lips must be as guiltless as her Thoughts.

Cupid.
Great Ones, oft scorch'd with secret Passion, mourn,
Tho' outwardly no Fire is seen to burn.
That Cinthia loves, in spite of all her Power,
I'll quickly prove, or may I never more
Be charm'd by those bright Eyes I so adore.
[Exit Cupid.

Psyche.
If that chaste Goddess can enamour'd be,
Love never can be thought a Crime in me;
Since 'tis for him in whom all Graces meet.
Heavens! how he charm'd! Was ever Tongue so sweet?
The Kiss he su'd for how I long'd to grant;
His the Petition was, but mine the Want.
Wou'd I had never seen that lovely Creature,
Or else had been of more obdurate Nature;
For now methinks I languish for his sake,
And fear to lose a Good I fear to take.
[Exit Psyche.