 | The Springs Glorie |  |
Venus and Cupid descend.
Venus.
Without good meat and drinke must Venus freeze?
Must I derive my flames and my desire
From Ceres and from Bacchus? shall the fire
That burnes in hearts, and payes me solemne rites
Kindle from fulnesse and gorg'd appetites?
It shall not Sonne. Learne of thy Sea-borne mother
Never to borrow power from any other.
The vertue that's our owne, who dares to claime?
Are not both Gods and men by thy sure ayme,
When at their bosomes thou direct'st a Dart,
Wounded with passion past the cure of art?
(When he was struck by thee) a soveraigne plant
To heale his hurt? nor did it rancor by
Abundance of choyce cates and luxurie?
'Twas meerely thy effect. Why then should we
To Ceres or to Bacchus deity
Assigne our rights?
Cupid.
In part we must; for they
Are aiders in our worke, and therefore may
Share in the attributes of power. If wine
Did not the spirits and the bloud refine,
Making them warme and active, I should throw
My shafts at rocks of ice, and from my Bow
The winged arrows of desire would flie
With empty and succeslesse battery.
If Ceres bounties flow'd not, where should I
Find any flame to light my torches by?
Fulnesse and ease assist me more then all
The helpes I have besides.
Venus.
And therefore shall
They be preferr'd? Thou art a foolish boy.
Their base effects are lust; they love to joy
In what is sensuall onely. Our pure heate
Borrowes no activenesse from drinke or meate;
It moves more in the soule. God Bacchus shall
Have his due attributes, and Ceres call
The plough, crookt sickle, flayle and many more
Her owne admir'd inventions, and the store
Shee gathers for mens use. But should the mind
Make these her only objects, what a blind
From such a seed! high spirits strive to know
More then a common eye sees, and aspire
Still upwards like the Piramide of fire,
When earth tends to its centre. We must move
More then the sense; else 'tis not perfect love.
To them Ceres and Bacchus.
Here's Ceres and Lyæus.
Ceres.
Wee are told
By Maia's sonne that you intend to scould
With me and Bacchus.
Venus.
I have cause to chide.
You'ld rob me of my titles, and beside
Make it a gluttons tenent, there can be
No love without you.
Ceres.
And your Deity
Hath summond us for this: 'tis very good.
I must confesse you made your father wood
To ravish faire Europa. Having seene
Traynes of Arcadian Virgins on the greene
Tread their chaste measures, or with nimble pace
Through the Parthenian groves, and thickets chace
A well-breath'd Stagge, one of them straight-wayes must
Be tempted to her ruine by his lust:
And this employment Venus still is thine.
Ceres is madd still for her Proserpine:
Whose rape hath made her queene of the Abysse.
Who to be so rewarded would not kisse
The blacke lips of hells king? and to his bed
Bring the short pleasures of a Maydenhead?
Repine not at it then.
Ceres.
I must whilst day
Hath any light, or heavens bright eye a ray.
It was your sonnes great act to boast of; he
That suffers not th'infernals to goe free
Of his diseases.
Bacchus.
Rather Ceres mine:
For if the God had never tasted wine,
Not all the heate of his infernall fire
Could e're have thaw'd him into one desire;
Or kindled the least flame in his cold brest
Without my vertue.
Venus.
'Tis an idle jest.
Doth Bacchus thinke he can with heate of wine
Light the bright flame of love, that is divine,
And burnes not from such causes, but takes fire
From th'elementall part of pure desire
Unmixt with grossnesse? Thy effects are foule;
And motions of the sense, not of the soule.
Subscribe then to our power; my sonne and I
Must have the attributes.
Let him lay by
His quiver rather. Ceres meanes to be
The Queene of Love, and Bacchus deity
Include all that is Cupids.
Venus.
First I'le leave
To be immortall, and my selfe bereave
Of all that I can claime above the skye,
Or under heavens archt roofe, if destiny
May give it confirmation. Take a Dart
And ayme it at her proud imperious heart
To shew in thy revenge what thou canst doe.
Cupid.
I must not Mother. Wee'le referre it to
Another tryall, and if Bacchus can
Confirme what he so saucily began
To argue, by example, wee'le deny
Nothing that's due unto his deity.
Bacchus.
Content.
To them Christmasse and Shrovetide Enter.
Christmas is personated by an old reverend Gentleman in a furr'd gowne and cappe, &c. And Shrovetide by a fat Cooke with a frying-pan, &c.
And see occasion hath comply'd
Even with our wish. It cannot be deny'd
But these share both our bounties; have free use
Of all our gifts: and if you'le not refuse
A tryall from them—
Let them speake, whil'st we
To their dispose referre the victory.
Shrovetide.
I say Christmas you are past date, you are out of the Almanack.
Resigne, resigne. Let the Oven give place to the
Frying-pan, and Minc't-pies yeild superiority to pancakes
and Fritters.
Christmas.
Resigne to thee! I that am the King of good cheere and
feasting, though I come but once a yeare to raigne over
bak't, boyled, roast, and plum-porridge, will have being in
despight of thy lard-ship. Thou art but my fagge-end, and
I must still be before thee.
Shrovetide.
But thou wilt never be before-hand. Thou art a prodigall
Christmas; and Shrovetide hath seene thee many times in
the Poultry.
Christmas.
Dost scorne my liberality, thou rasty bacon, tallow-faced
scullion? Though thou be as fat as a Flemming, I'le have
Lent choke thee with a red-herring.
Shrovetide.
I'le arme my selfe for that. In three dayes I can victuall
my garrison for seven weekes: and it shall goe hard but I
will domineere in Lent despite of the thin-chapt surgeon
that makes men skillitons.
As how?
Shrovetide.
At any Noblemans house, I can licke my fingers in a
privy kitchin. Though I bee out of commons in the hall,
there's flesh to be had sometimes in a chamber besides a Landresse.
The very three-penny ordinary will keepe me in an
upper gallery, and I can be invisible even in the pye-house.
Should all faile, the wenches I got with child shall long, and
have the Phisitians ticket.
Christmas.
Thou get children!
Shrovetide.
Yes more then Christmas, and better too: for thine are
all unthrifts, whores, or murderers. Thy sonne In and in,
undid many a Citizen. Thou hast a Daughter called my Ladyes
hole, a filthy black slut shee is; and Put is common in
every Bawdy house. 'Tis thought Noddy was none of thine
owne getting, but an Aldermans, that in exchange cuckolded
thee, when thou wast a Courtier. Thou hast one sonne
bred up in the Country called Christmas gambolls, that doth
nothing but breake mens necks; and many more that would
undoe the Common-wealth, were it not for the Groome
porter.
Christmas.
Do'st see these sirrah?
Ceres and Bacchus: I am their worshipper. Were Stewes
tolerated, and Venus the Grand Bawd of them, without good
meate and drinke, your young Factors would never be able
to breake their Masters or Mistresses, nor your shee-silke-worme
in Cheape care a button for her foreman.
Ceres.
Venus being overcome, I hope will yeeld,
Now shee is vanquisht in the open field,
And her weake forces scatter'd: nor can they
Gather new head to make a second fray.
To them Lent enters.
Hee is figur'd in a leane Man, his habit like trouses, and what other anticke devices may be thought proper.
Venus.
Yes: with this champion; and his fresh supply
I'le wage new warre, and call backe victory.
Shrovetide.
This leane thin-gut starveling, begot by a Spaniard, and
nurst at the lower end of Friday-street.
Lent.
Why thou Helluo of hennes and bakon, thou larder house
of collops and egges; thou that makest the kitchin proclaime
thy Lard and crumpets, what canst thou boast of?
Christmas.
Children, children, thou parcht starveling: thou canst got
nothing but Anatomies.
Lent.
Children. I get more (I maintaine not their lawfulnesse)
then Christmas and Shrovetide. Oh the vertue of Oysters,
Lobsters, Sturgeon, Anchoves, & Caveary. Why thou grout-headed
bladder, puft with the windinesse of pared apples
coffered in batter: for every Brawne or hogge, either Christmas
or thy selfe have demolisht; I have a thousand Herrings,
despight of the Dutchmens wastfull theft, let them rob
the foure Seas never so often. Besides, I couple more then
the Parson of Pancrace: I meane City woodcocks, with
Suburb-wagtailes.
Christmas.
Thou couple?
Lent.
Who more? Is not S. Valentines day mine? are not Codds
mine, thou codds-head, and Maides mine? put them together
thou wilt find they are things—
Shrovetide.
Thou art a thing of emptinesse, and Lent was ever a Iack
by conversion.
Such a Iack as can come aloft, and doe Venus more credit
then thy fulnesse. Doe not I share of Aries, Taurus, and
Gemini; the Innes I lye at in my progresse. Yet no cuckold
can deny but Aries and Taurus should follow Gemini. And
it follows, or should, that I having two fathers my selfe,
should get most children.
Christmas.
Who were thy fathers prethee?
Lent.
Devotion and Pollicy; and I have begotten Hipocrisie on
a holy sister, that despight of all Informers would have flesh,
her belly full. Let Christmas and Shrovetide eate and
drinke; I'le be for Venus, though I feed upon nothing but
herring-cobbs.
Venus.
Who's now the conqueror? Will Ceres now
Subscribe unto my power? and Bacchus bow
To Cupids awefull strength?
Ceres.
Not till it is
Confirm'd by better evidence then his.
Lent.
Then mine Observe.
See you these good fellowes, that preferre the warme
Sunne, before the scrapps which niggardly Christmas and
Shrovetide feast them with; and would get a better race
under a hedge to people New England, then the Seperatists
that possesse it. Whilst they entertaine yee, Ile summon
the Spring, and she shall moderate.
The Beggars dance.
Exeunt.
After the dance, is heard the chirping of birds; and whilst the following Song is singing, the Scæne againe changeth into a pleasant Arbour, in which the Spring in a greene robe wrought over with flowers presents her selfe.
The Song.
See, see a Metamorphosis,
The late gray field now verdant is.
The Sun with warme beames glads the earth,
And to the springing flowers
He gives a new and lively birth
By th'ayde of gentle showres.
The Lambes no longer bleate for cold,
Nor cry for succour from the old:
But friske and play with confidence
Like Emblemes of true innocence.
Chorus.
The cheerefull birds their voyces straine,
The Cuckow's hoarse for want of raine.
To welcome in the joyfull Spring.
Spring.
Thus breake my gloryes forth that late lay hid
Within the icye earth, and were forbid
By Winters nipping cold to show their heads
Above the snowy covering of their beds.
The winds not rugged now, but calme and fayre,
Sweepe flowry Gardens, and perfume the ayre.
The woods shrill Choristers (whose frozen throtes
Lated wanted motion,) now have found their notes;
Strayning their little organes to sound high,
And teach men art from Natures harmony.
Come you to welcome me?
Ceres.
Yes lovely Maid;
And to have judgement from you, who most aide
In Loves great worke.
Spring.
Is there a strife betweene
The goddesse of desire, and plenties Queene?
Will they subscribe, Ile moderate.
All.
Content.
Spring.
First heare my reasons; then my sentence: bent
'Gainst neithers honours; for I must comply
With both as vertues. Venus Deity
Each that hath being that by which he lives.
Yet many times excesse perverts the end
Of pure intentions; and extreames extend
Their powers to undoe those acts are free
In their owne natures from impuritie.
Love ought to be Platonick, and Divine;
Such as is onely kindled, and doth shine
With beames, that may all darke effects controule
In the refin'd parts of the glorious soule.
Men doe abuse your gifts, when they delight
Onely to please their sensuall appetite,
And heat the bloud from fulnesse; whence there growes
No perfect love, but such as onely knowes
The coursest difference, and therefore must
Presume to owne no other name but lust.
In me let Temperance teach you to apply
Things to their best ends; and to rectifie
All motions that intend effects, beside
What may runne cleere and currant with the tide
Of purest love: in which let all your jarres
Be reconcil'd, and finish your sterne warres.
All.
Thus we embrace in peace.
Spring.
And I the Spring
Will lead a moderate measure. Chirpers sing
Your choysest ayres; and as our eares they greet,
Vnto the Musicke we'le apply our feet.
The Spring leades them a measure; after which they retire backe to the Scæne.
| The Springs Glorie | |