 | The Sun's-Darling |  |
Actus Secundus.
Enter Spring, Raybright, Youth, Health and Delight.Spr.
Welcom the mother of the year, the Spring;
That mother on whose back age ne're can sit.
For age still waits upon her that Spring the Nurse;
Whose milk the Summer sucks, and is made wanton.
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By whom all things above, and under-round
Are quickned with new heat, fresh blood, brave vigor,
That Spring on thy fair cheeks, in kisses laies
Ten thousand welcoms, free as are those raies
From vvhich thy name thou borrowest: glorious name!
Raybright, as bright in person as in fame.
Ray.
Your eies amaz'd mee first, but now mine ears
Feel your tougues charms, in you move all the sphears.
Oh Ladie! would the Sun, which gave mee life,
Had never sent me to you.
Spr.
Why! all my veins
Shrink up, as if cold Winter were com back,
And with his frozen beard have mumm'd my lips
To hear that sigh fly from you.
Ray.
Round about mee
A firmament of such full blessings shine,
I in your sphear seem a star more divine
Than in my Fathers Chariot; should I ride
One year about the world in all his pride.
Sp.
Oh that sweet breath revives mee! if thou never
Part'st hence (as part thou shalt not) bee happie ever.
Ray.
I know I shall.
Spr.
Thou to buy, whose state?
Kings would lay down their crowns, fresh Youth wait,
I charge thee, on my darling.
You.
Madam I shall,
And on his smoeth cheek such sweet roses set,
You still shall sit to gather then, and when
Their colours fade, brave shall spring agen.
Spr.
Thou (without whom they that have hills of gold
Are slaves and wretches) Health that canst nor be sold
Nor bought, I charge thee make his heart a tower
Guarded, for there lies the Springs paramour.
Hea.
One of my hands is writing still in heaven,
(For that's Healths librarie) t'other on the earth
Is Physicks treasurer, and what wealth those lay
Up for my queen, all shall his will obay.
Ray.
Mortalitie sure falls from me,
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Thou! to whose tunes
The five nice Sences dance; thou that dost spin
Those golden threds all women love to winde,
And but for whom, man would cut off mankinde.
Delight not base, but noble, touch thy Lire,
And fill my Court with brightest Delphick fire.
Del.
Hover, you wing'd Musicians, in the air;
Clouds leav your dancing, no windes stir but fair.
Hea.
Leav blustring March.—
SONG.
What bird so sings, yet so does wail,
'Tis Philomel the Nightingale;
Jugg, Jugg, Jugg, Terue she cries,
And hating earth, to heaven she flies—Cuckow.
Ha, ha, hark, hark, the Cuckows sing
Cuckow, to welcom in the Spring.
Brave prick-song; who is't now we hear!
'Tis the Larks silver leer a leer:
Chirup the Sparrow flies away;
For hee fell too't ere break of day.
Ha, ha, hark, hark, the Cuckcows sing
Cuckow, to welcom in the Spring.
Spr.
How does my sun-born sweet-heart like his queen;
Her court, her train.
Ray.
Wondrous, such ne're were seen.
Hea.
Fresher and fresher pastimes, one delight
Is a disease to th'wanton appetite.
Del.
Musick take Ecchoes voice, and dance quick rounds
To thine own times in repercussive sounds.
Exit.
Eccho of Cornets.
Spr.
Enough? I will not weary thee, pleasures change:
Thou, as the Sun in a free zodiack range.—
Enter Delight.
Del.
A company of rural fellows, fac'd
Like lovers of your Laws, beg to bee grac'd
Before your Highness, to present their sport.
Spr.
What is't?
Del.
A Morris.
Spr.
Give them our Court:
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Take thou my lightning, none but Laurel here
Shall scape thy blasting; whom thou wilt confound
Smite; let those stand, who in thy choice sit crown'd.
Ray.
Let these then, I may surfet else on sweets.
Sound sleeps do not still lie in Princes sheets.
Spr.
Becken the Rurals in, the Country-gray
Seldom ploughs treason, shouldst thou be stoln away.
By great ones, that's my fear.
Ræy.
Fear it not Lady;
Should all the worlds black sorceries bee laid
To blow mee hence, I move not.
Spr.
I am made
Morris.
In that word the earths Empress—
Are not these sports too rustick?
Ray.
No; pretty and pleasing.
Spr.
My youngest girle, the violet-breathing May,
Being told by Flora that my love dwelt here,
Is com to do you service, will you please
To honor her arrival.
Ray.
I shall attend.
Spr.
On then, and bid my rosie-finger'd May
Morris Exit.
Rob hills and dales, with sweets to strow his way.
Ray.
An Empress, saist thou, faln in love with me.
Fol.
Shee's a great woman, and all great women wish to be
Empresses; her name, the Ladie Humor.
Ray.
Strange name, I never saw her, knew her not:
What kinde of creature is shee?
Fol.
Creature! of a skin soft as Pomatum, sleek as Jellie,
white as blanch'd Almonds; no Mercers wife ever handled yard
with a prettier breath, sweet as a Monkies; lips of cherries,
teeth of pearle, eies of diamond, foot and leg as—
Ray.
And what's thy name?
Fol.
'Tis but a folly to tell it, my name is Folly.
Ray.
Humor and Folly; to my listning ear
Thy Ladies praises often have been sung,
The trumpet sounding forth her graceful beauties,
Kindles high flames within me to behold her.
Fol.
Shee's as hot as you for your heart.
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This Ladie, call'd the Spring, is an odd trifle.
Fol.
A green sickness thing, I came by the way of a hobby-horse
letter of Attorney, sent by my Ladie as a spie to you:
Spring a hot Ladie, a few fields and gardens lass, can you feed
upon sallets and tanzies, eat like an Asse upon grasse every day at
my Ladies, coms to you now a Goose, now a Woodcock, nothing
but fowl; fowl pies, platters all cover'd with foul, and is
not fowl yery good fare?
Ray.
Yea marry is't sir, the fowl being kept clean.
My admiration wastes it self in longings
To see this rare piece, I'le see her; what are Kings, were not their
Pleasures varied; shall not mine then? should day
Last ever, 'twould bee loath'd as night.
Change is the sawce that sharpens appetite;
The way, I'le to her.
Fol.
The way is windie and narrow; for look you, I do but
winde this Cornet, and if another answer it, she coms.
Ray.
Be quick then—
Cornets.
Enter Humor, a Souldier, a Spaniard, an Italian Dance, a French Tailor.
Hum.
Is this that flower the Spring so dotes upon?
Fol.
This is that hony-suckle, she sticks in her ruffe.
Hum.
A bedfellow for a Fairie.
Ray.
Admir'd perfection!
You set my praises to so high a tune,
My merits cannot reach em.
Hum.
My heart-strings shall then,
As mine eie gives that sentence on thy person;
And never was mine eie a corrupt Judg,
That Judg to save thee would condemn a world,
And lose mankinde to gain thee; 'tis not the Spring,
With all her gawdy arbors, nor perfumes
Sent up in flattering incense to the Sun,
For shooting glames at her, and for sending
Whole quires of singers to her every morn,
With all her amorous fires, can heat thy blood
as I can with one kisse.
Ray.
The rose-lipp'd dawning
Is not so melting, so delicious.
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Still singing in such boughs.
Fol.
What bird?
Sol.
A Ring-tayl.
Hu.
Thou shalt be turn'd to nothing but to mine,
My Mine of pleasures which no hand shall rifle
But this, which in warm Nectar bathes the palm:
Invent som other tyres; musick; stay; none
Fol.
Hoy-day.
Hu.
New gowns, fresh fashions, I am not brave enough
To make thee wonder at me.
Ray.
Not the Moon
Riding at midnight in her cristal Chariot,
With all her Courtiers in their robes of stars
Is half so glorious.
Hu.
This feather was a bird of Paradice,
Shall it bee yours.
Ray.
No Kingdom buies it from mee.
Fol.
Being in fools paradice he must not lose his bawble.
Ray.
I am wrapt.
Fol.
In your mothers smock.
Ra.
I am wrapt above mans being, in being spher'd
In such a globe of rarities, but say Ladie
What these are that attend you.
Hu.
All my attendants
Shall be to the sworn servants.
Fol.
Follie is sworn to him already, never to leav him.
Ray.
Hee.
Fol.
A French Gentleman that tray Is a Spanish pike. A Tailor.
Tay.
Wee Mounsieur, hey nimbla upon de crosse caper, me
take a de measure of de body from de top a de noddle to de heel
and great toe, oh stish de fine; dis coller is cut out in anger scurvie,
oh dis beeshes pincha de bum, me put one French yard into
de toder hose.
Fol.
No Frenchyards, they want a yard at least.
Ray.
Shall I bee brave then?
Hu.
Golden as the sun.
Ra.
What's hee that looks so smickly?
Fol.
A Flounder in a frying-pan, still skipping, one that loves
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lie in his legs, and his legs serve him to no other use then to do
tricks, as if he had bought em of a Jugler, hee's an Italian dancer,
his name—
Dan.
Signior Lavolta (Messer mio) me tesha all de bella Corantoes,
galliardaes, piamettaes, capeorettaes, amorettaes dolche
dolche to declamante do bona robaes de Tuscana.
Ray.
I ne're shall be so nimble.
Fol.
Yes, if you powr quick-silver into your shin-bones, as he
does.
Ray.
now?
Fol.
A most sweet Spaniard.
Spa.
A Confecianador, which in your tongue is, a Comfitmaker,
of Toledo, I can teach sugar to slip down your throat a
million of waies.
Fol.
And the throat has but one in all, oh Toledo!
Spa.
In Conservs, candies, marmalades, sinkadoes, ponadoes,
marablane, Bergamotu, aranxues muria, lymons, berengenas of
Toledo, oriones, potataes of Malaga, and ten millions more.
Fol.
Now 'tis ten millions, a Spaniard can multiply.
Spa.
I am your servidor.
Rey.
My pallate pleas'd to, what's this last?
Sol.
I am a Gun that can rore, two stelettoes in one sheath, I
can fight and bounce too, my Ladie by mee, presents this sword
and belt to you
Ray.
Incomparable Mistresse.
Hu.
Put them on.
Sol.
I'le drill you how to give the lie, and stab in the punto,
if you dare not fight, then how to vamp a rotten quarrel without
ado.
Ray.
How: dare not fight! there's in me the Suns fire.
Hu.
No more of this, dances wake the musick.
O yes! Musick!
Ray.
No more of this, this sword arms me for battel.
Hu.
Com then, let thou and I rise up in arms,
The field embraces, kisses our alarms.
Fol.
A dancer and a Tailor, yet stand still: strike up—Dance.
Enter Spring, Health, Youth, Delight.
Spr.
Oh! thou inticing strumpet, how durst thou
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That's consecrate to me.
Hu.
Poor Spring, goodie herb-wife;
How dar'st thou cast a glance on this rich jewel
I ha bought for mine own wearing.
Spr.
Bought! art thou sold then?
Ray.
Yes, with her gifts, she buyes me with her graces.
Heal.
Graces! A Witch.
Spr.
What can she give thee.
Ray.
All things.
Spr.
Which I for one bubble cannot add a sea too.
Fol.
And shew him a hobbie-horse in my likeness.
Spr.
My Raybright, hear me; I regard not these.
Ray.
What dowrie can you bring me?
Spr.
Dowrie! ha! is't com to this? am I held poor and base?
A girdle make, whose buckles stretch'd toth' length
Shall reach from th'artick to th'antartick pole:
What ground soever thou canst with that inclose
I'le give thee freely, not a Lark that calls
The morning up, shall build on any turf
But shee shall be thy tenant, call thee Lord,
And for her rent pay thee in change of songs.
Ray.
I must turn bird-catcher.
Fol.
Do you think to have him for a song?
Hu.
Live with mee still, and all the measures
Plaid to by the spheres, I'le teach thee;
Let's but thus dallie, all the pleasures
The Moon beholds, her man shall reach thee.
Ray.
Divinest!
Fol.
Here's a Lady.
Spr.
Is't come to who gives most?
The self same Bay tree into which was turnd:
Peneian Daphne, I have still kept green;
That tree shall now be thine, about it sit:
All the old poets with fresh Lawrel Crownd,
Singing in verse the praise of chastity;
Hither when thou shalt come, they all shall rise,
Sweet Cantoes of thy love, and mine to sing:
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Ray.
Live by singing ballets?
Fol.
Oh! base, turn poet, I would not be one my self.
Hu.
Dwell in mine armes, aloft wee'l hover,
And see fields of armies fighting:
Oh! part not from mee, I will discover
There, all but books of fances writing;
Del.
Not far off stands the Hipocrenian well,
Whither i'le leade thee, and but drinking there,
To welcome thee, nine Muses shall appear:
And with full bowles of knowledge thee inspire.
Ray.
Hang knowledge, drowne your muse.
Fol.
I, I, or they'l drown themseves in Sack & Claret
Hu.
Do not regard their toyes,
Be but my darling, age to free thee
From her curse, shall fall a dying;
Call me their Empresse; time to see thee
Shall for get his art of flying.
Ray.
Oh! my all excellence.
Sp.
Speake thou for me; I am fainting.
Heal.
Leave her, take this and travel, tell the world
I'le bring thee in to all the Courts of Kings;
Where thou shalt stay, and learn their languages;
Kisse Ladies, revell out the nights in dancing:
The day, manly pastimes; snatch from time
His glasse, and let the golden sands run forth
As thou shalt jogg them, riot it, go brave;
Spend halfe a world, my Queen shall beare thee out:
Yet all this while, tho thou climb hills of yeares,
Shall not one wrinckle sit upon thy brow,
Nor any sicknesse shake thee; Youth and Health,
As slaves, shall lackie by thy Chariot wheeles;
And who, for two such jeweller, would not sell
The East, and West Jndies; both are thine, so that—
Ray.
What?
Fol.
All lies gallap o're the world, and not grow old, nor be
sick; a lie; one gallant went but into France last day, & was never
his own man since, another stept but into the low Countries, and
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and it cost him more in good morrows blowne up to him
under his window, by Drums and Trumpets, then his whole voiage,
besides he run mad upon't.
Hu.
Here's my last farewel, ride a long with me;
I'le raise by art, out of base earth, a pallace;
Whither thy selfe, waving a Christal stream,
Shall call together the most glorious spirits
Of all the Kings that have been in the world;
And they shall come onely to feast with thee.
Ray.
Rare!
Hu.
At one end of this pallace shall be heard
That Musique which gives motion to the Heaven;
And in the midle Orpheus shall sit and weep,
For sorrow that his Lute had not the charmes
To bring his faire Euredice from hell;
Then at an other end—
Ray.
I'le hear no more;
This ends your strife, you onely I adore.
Sp.
Oh! I am sick at heart; unthankfull man
'Tis thou hast wounded mee, farewel, she is led in.
Ray.
Farewell?
Fol.
Health, recover her; sirrah Youth, look to her.
Hea.
That bird that in her nest sleeps out the spring
May fly in Summer, but with sickly wing.
Exit.
Ray.
I owe thee for this pill, Doctor.
Hu.
The Spring will Dye sure.
Ray.
Let her?
Hu.
If she does, Folly here is a kind of a foolish poet,
And he shall write her Epitaph.
Ray.
Against the morning
See it then writ, and I'le reward thee for it.
Fol.
It shall not need.
Ray.
'Tis like it shall not need, this is your Folly,
Hu.
He shall be ever yours.
Fol.
I hope ever to be mine own folly,
Hee's one of our fellows.
Hu.
In triumph now I lead thee; no, be thou Cesar,
And lead me.
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Neither; wee'l ride with equall state
Both in one Chariot, since we have equall fate.
Hu.
Each do his office to this man your Lord;
For tho Delight, and Youth, and Health should leave him,
This Ivory gated pallace shall receive him.
Exit.
| The Sun's-Darling | |