University of Virginia Library

1. PART I.

A wild country; the whole Scene dark, 'till at one corner, the Moon rising, a Satyr is seen (by her light) to come forth and call.
RECITATIVE.
FIRST SATYR.
Chromis, Mnasil! none appear?
See you not who riseth here?
You were carousing late, I fear:
I'll prove if this can reach your ear.
[He winds his Cornet, and thinks himself answer'd, but is deceiv'd by the Echo.]
AIR.
O, you wake, then: come away;
Times be short, are made for play!
The hum'rous Moon too will not stay.
RECITATIVE.
What doth make you thus delay?
Hath the tankard touch'd your brain?
Sure, they're fall'n asleep again!
Or I doubt it was the vain
Echo, did me entertain.
Prove again.
[Winds a second time]
I thought 'twas she.
AIR.
Idle Nymph, I pray thee be
Modest, and not follow me;
I not love myself, nor thee.
[Winds the third time, and is answer'd by another Satyr.]
RECITATIVE.
Ay, this sound I better know:
Wou'd their faces they might shew!

[At this, other Satyrs come forth severally, and amongst them a Silenus.
SECOND SATYR.
Thank us, and we shall do so.

THIRD SATYR.
Ay, our number soon will grow.

SECOND SATYR.
See Silenus!

THIRD SATYR.
Cercops too!

FOURTH SATYR.
Yes; what is there now to do?

FIFTH SATYR.
Are there any Nymphs to woo?

FOURTH SATYR.
If there be, let me have two.

SILENUS.
Chaster language! These are nights
Solemn to the shining rites
Of the Fairy Prince, and Knights;
While the Moon their orgies lights.

SECOND SATYR.
Will they come abroad, anon?

THIRD SATYR.
Shall we see Young Oberon?

FOURTH SATYR.
Is he such a princely one
As you spake him long agone?

AIR AND CHORUS.
SILENUS.
Satyrs, he doth fill with grace
Every season, every place;
Beauty dwells but in his face:
He's the height of all our race!
Our Pan's father, God of tongue,
Bacchus, though he still be young,
Phœbus, when he crowned sung,
Nor Mars, when first his armour rung,
Might with him be nam'd that day:
Lovelier than the Spring in May.

CHORUS.
O! that he would come away!

RECITATIVE.
THIRD SATYR.
Farewel, Bacchus! we will serve
Young Oberon.

SILENUS.
And he'll deserve,
All you can, and more, my Boys.

FOURTH SATYR.
Will he give us pretty toys,
To beguile the girls withal?

THIRD SATYR.
And to make 'em quickly fall!

SILENUS.
Peace, my Wantons! he will do
More than you can aim unto.

FIRST SATYR.
Will he gild our cloven feet?

THIRD SATYR.
Strew our heads with powders sweet?

FIRST SATYR.
Bind our crooked legs in hoops,
Made of shells, with silver loops?

SECOND SATYR.
Tie about our tawny wrists
Bracelets of the Fairy twists?

FOURTH SATYR.
And, to spite the coy Nymphs scorns,
Hang upon our stubbed horns
Garlands, ribbands, and fine posies;

THIRD SATYR.
Fresh as when the Flower discloses?

AIR AND CHORUS.
SECOND SATYR.
And to answer all things else,
Trap our shaggy thighs with bells;

FOURTH SATYR.
That as we do strike a time,
In our dance, shall make a chime,

THIRD SATYR.
Louder than the rattling pipes
Of the Wood-Gods;

FIRST SATYR.
Or the stripes
Of the timbrel; when we carry
Bacchus up, his pomp to vary.

CHORUS.
O, that he so long doth tarry!

RECITATIVE.
SILENUS.
Peace! the Rock will quickly ope:
Soon you shall enjoy your hope.
[Rock opens, and discovers the West Front of St. George's Chapel, at Windsor, with brilliant decorations; before the Gates two Sylvans, armed with their Clubs, and drest in leaves, asleep. At this the Satyrs wondering, Silenus proceeds.
Mark, my Satyrs, what a show!
Look! does not this Temple glow
Like another sky of lights?
Yonder sit the crested Knights,
Once the noblest of the earth,
Quicken'd by a second birth;
Who, for Prowess, and for Truth,
There are crown'd with lasting youth;
And now hold, by Fate's command,
Seats of Bliss in Fairy Land.
But their Guards! strange watch they keep!
Rouze 'em, Satyrs, from their sleep!

THIRD SATYR.
Holla, Sylvans! Sure they're caves
Which Sleep inhabits—

FIRST SATYR.
Else they're graves.

SECOND SATYR.
Shall we cramp 'em?

SILENUS.
Satyrs, no.

THIRD SATYR.
Would we had Boreas here, to blow!

FOURTH SATYR.
Shall we steal away their beards—

THIRD SATYR.
For Pan's Goat, that leads the Herds?

FIRST SATYR.
Let's try, whether is more dead,
One Sylvan's Club—or t'other's head.

SECOND SATYR.
Let us to some river take them;
Plump—and see if that will wake them.

FIRST SATYR.
Let them down the Hill be roll'd!

SILENUS.
Wags, no more! you grow too bold.

SECOND SATYR.
There's no motion yet appears.

SILENUS.
Strike a charm into their ears.

CATCH, BY THE SATYRS.
Buz, quoth the blue flie,
Hum, quoth the bee:
Buz and hum they cry,
And so do we.
In his ear, in his nose,
Thus do you see?
He eat the Dormouse,
Else it was he!

[The two Sylvans start up amazed, and betake themselves to their Arms.
RECITATIVE.
SILENUS.
How now, Sylvans! can you wake?
I commend the care you take.

FOURTH SATYR.
Who is yonder up aloof?

FIRST SATYR.
Be your eyes as yet moon-proof?

SYLVAN.
Satyrs, leave your petulance,
And go frisk about, and dance;
Or else rail upon the Moon;
Your expectance is too soon.
For before the second cock,
Know, the gates will not unlock.

FIRST SATYR.
Say you so? Then let us fall
To a Song, or to a brawl!
Shall we, Grandsire? Let us sport,
And make expectation short.

SILENUS.
Do, my Wantons, what you please;
I'll lie down, and take mine ease.

[Exit.
FIRST SATYR.
Brothers, sing then, and upbraid
(As we use) yond' seeming maid.—
But hold! The Woodland Nymphs, my Boys,
Appear, and promise greater joys!

Enter WOOD-NYMPHS.
FIRST NYMPH.
Sylvans, Fauns, and Satyrs rude,
Pan's Train, and all that multitude,
Now dance in wilder rounds about,
And cleave the air with many a shout!

AIR.

See, see, O see, who here is come a-maying;
The master of the Ocean
With his darling Orian:
Why left we our playing?
To gaze, to gaze,
On them that all amaze,
Whose like were never seen.
Up, Nightingale, and sing
Jug, jug, jug, jug, &c.
Raise, Lark, thy note and wing;
All birds their Musick bring;
Sweet Robin, Linnet, Thrush,
Record from every bush
The welcome of the King,
The King and Queen!

RECITATIVE.
SECOND NYMPH.
Now, now, prepare to set;
And when your hands are met,
Begin with nimble feet
The happy ground to beat.

[A Dance till they are interrupted by Silenus.
SILENUS.
Stay! the chearful Chanticleer
Tells you that the time is near;
See, the Gates already spread!
Nymphs and Satyrs, bow the head!
See St. George's Fane! where now
Lives Knighthood with a crowned brow.

Scene opens, and discovers a Vision of the inside of St. George's Chapel, at Windsor, with the original Knights in their several Stalls.
CHORUS.
Hail, fair Knighthood; let our Lays
Vindicate thy antient Praise!
Thou too, Windsor, shalt be sung;
Mansion of Princes, haunt of Gods,
Who shall quit their bright abodes,
To view thy walls with trophies hung;
Walls by Arthur first renown'd,
Seat of Chivalry and Fame!
By Edward with new Honours crown'd;
His BIRTH, his GARTER, and his NAME.

RECITATIVE.
SECOND NYMPH.
Let our shews be new as strange,
Ever hastening to their change;
Let them oft and sweetly vary,
That beholders may not tarry!
Long to wait the pleasing sight,
Takes away from the delight.

AIR.

Let us play, and dance, and sing!
Let us frolick, let us sport,
Turning the delights of Spring
To the graces of a Court.
From air, from cloud, from dreams and toys,
To sounds, to sense, to love, and joys!

DUET AND CHORUS.

Whilst all the air shall ring,
And every trembling string,
With every varied voice,
In union sweet rejoice,
To sound and sing,
LONG LIVE THE KING!