University of Virginia Library

On his beloved friend the Authour, and his ingenious Cyprian Academy.

Noe sooner in our Inne, but out in Print!
Sure 'tis Arts Arcademy, and the Muses Mint:
Where in Dame Nature Pupill is to Art;
Bearing Minerva's Image in each part:
The Court of Pallas and the Muses Throne;
Where Ignoramus stands outlaw'd alone.
Baron, goe, non suit momus; for's barren plea
Against the Court; and tell him openly;
The braine of Iupiter's each Courtiers Mother:
Or bid him reade thy booke; and then thinke other.
Me thinks I see the world thy booke admire;
And Ladies dandling it with much desire
To see that hand; these flowrie Pastrolls pen'd;
And wish them Ring-like, without any end.
What Uenus can denie to be the Fem',
Of Laureat Baron; borne of Orpheus stem;
None can object against thy worth, or line;
Save more then Bigamie with the Nine:
Pernassu's thine! make joynture then;
And let God Hyemen say Amen.
To Court th' art welcome; th' Muses blaze thy Prayse:
Momus shall weare the Ivy; Thou the Bayes.

To his much respected and learned friend Master Robert Baron on his Booke.

Should my poore Muse presume to speake
Encom'ums in thy praise,
Amazement soone 'would strike her dumbe
Whilst she beheld thy rayes:
Yet give her leave, though that she can't
Add splendor to thy name
With her black spotts to shadow out
Thine ever sparkling fame.
Thy booke sweet friend doth seeme to me
A Royall treasury.
Thou Baron of Minerva's rich
Exchequer term'd mayst be
Heer's Pallas Palace, or White-Hall
Thy workes a glor'ous feast
Which would invite from Helicon
The pretty Nymphs to tast.
Here may be seene a Table deck't
Vpon Parnassus hill.
Here may be heard Apollo's harpe
With its harmon'ous shrill.
Here Nectar pure from Helicon
Like raine from clouds doth showre;
More sweetnesse doth each sentence yeeld
Then the Hyblæan floure.
Each gallant here may have his fill
Each Lady please her eye
Such are thy streames of eloquence
Such is thy poesie.
Did th' Epicure thy banquet tast
He soone would Bacchus scorne
And now corrouse full cups out of
Thine Amelthean horne:
For surfetting or giddinesse
Here is no neede to feare
Minerva's guests scarce ever knew
The heresie of beere.
Let Poets feigne unto themselves
An Aganippe fount
Or Muses sacred place, yet still
Thy booke doth them surmount.
Cease Criticks then to tell my muse
Of other Helicon
Heer's Pallas wine, her glory tis
That shee may sip thereon.

To my chosen Friend, the hopefull Mr. Baron.

So young! and write so well! it might appeare
Impossible but that thy name is there
Nature hath here her former selfe surpast,
Shewing at once perfection and hast:
Since thou like Virgills Genethliack bay
Art a tall tree, ere time could thinke a spray.
Well might thy happy lovers wish to come
From th' Checquer shades of their Elizium,
And suffer further miseries so they might
Engage so rich a pen to give them light;
For nothing was so well performd as writ,
Such is the wide Prerogative of wit.
Thy Booke and Picture contradictions tell,
And thwart themselves into a Miracle.

To his ever Honoured Friend Mr. Robert Baron upon his Cyprian Academy.

How dare I venter to insert a line
Before thy booke, when every word of thine
Doth swell it selfe with a strong winded blast
Of rich embroderd Eloquences, what wa'st
Not fraid of choaking in their bringing out.
Or didst not bord with Lessius about
Some 9 months since conception, and didst there
With in thy throate make a full passage cleere
To give them birth? what Midwife hadst at hand?
Came not Minerva with Apollo man'd
Merc'ry attending (in his proper place
Most sweetly sings a fift and eight's the base)
Dect with his wings, even hoarse in setting forth
Thy new lict Fætus with its unknowne worth.
Her'e is a Chimist which from a rude masse
Extracts Elixar that death may well surpasse
Spencers ninth Canto in the fairy Queene,
Or Ben's vulpony, oh had he but seene
Thy pregnant fancy, how could he forebeare
To rend his Cat'line and by Jove to sweare
Thy'ns the better, thou scornst exoticke words
Or Exolericke Phrases which affords
No luster to thy booke, thy webs not drawne
Or Spun of home-made thred, 'tis pure fitt lawne
For Palace stockings, Th' Acromatick straines
Surely are flowne from out Cylen'ns braines;
Thy words carry charmes, able to lay wist
The direfull magick of an Exorcist,
Come Rhombus come I prethee pause a while
Thy language is pedantick, her's a stile
To Court a Lady in, away, away
To Schole young Emperick and make no stay
But come and learne to speake, to Court, to charme
Th' obdurate Mistrisse in thy wanton arme.
Hence all your Momus bratts leave off to fleere
Away you Criticks which are wont to Jeere,
Or else King Arthur with his Knights shall come
And Robin Hood shall strike his paper drum
In his defence, brave Guy shall bring a long
St. George for England with a warlick throng
Famous Parismus and Primalcon,
Palm'rin D'oliua with Montelion:
Cease now Antiquity T'hang weeping ore
Brave Sydnys vrne invest thy selfe no more
With sable weeds, he livs, for sure there is
Of Souls a sam' an Metempsychosis,
Is this not Sidney; marke his Veine in verse
His stile in prose, I cannot here reherse
His worth in severall arts, here Ptolomy
Or Strabo may learne new Geography,
Here Tycobrah may veiw the turning sphers
Making still musick in his listning eares,
Out of thy booke Euclid may learne to frame
A sphere, or draw a paralellograme;
But muse 'tis time to stop, dost thou not see
Thou'rt o're guilty with Tautology;
His booke shall praise it selfe, it may, nay can
Suffice to make an English Uatican.

To his honoured friend, Mr. Robert Baron upon his excellent Poem.

To his ingenious friend Mr. Robert Baron upon his Cyprian Academy.

I've thought upon't, yet faith I cannot tell
Wether thy prose or verse doth most excell
Each other, both in an Emphaticke style
Roare like the torrent of a troubled Nile
Stopp'd by an oblique beame thy words being pent
I'th confin's of thy throate, did force, their vent
To torture weake capacities, who'l say
Reading thy book 'tis Greeke, wrote English way
Nor is that all, some will conjecture by it
That in'ts conception thou keep'st sparing diet
They will not thinke thou did'st grosse Hamkins eat
Least thou shouldst choake thy quibles with such meate
Yet whatso'ere thou eat'st for other Palats
They Orcheards apples yeild, thy gardens sallads.
Well may Antiquitie amazed be
To view their chapells, an Academy
So farre out vie'd in which are many bowres
For Venus darlings, neatly strow'd with flowers
Of Rheth'rick, nay the seaven li'brall artes
Like thunder-clapps doe act their severall parts
In high expressions, which are forth brought
Some of them sure stand for a thirteenth thought.
But here I'le stoup, least I Tautologize
In vaine ambages, when it will suffice
That in worths plentuous cropps, of infant bayes
I gleane an handfull to adorne thy prayse.

To his worthy friend upon his Excellent Book the Cyprian Academy.

Natur 's Apelles that canst thus the State
Of Lovers with thy pencill adumbrate
Come quit this spot, and mount the starry quire
Where sit inshrin'd soules made of purest fire;
Halfe shadow'd Venus shall then come to thee
Hoping perfection in thy Poetry.
The winged post of heaven shall guild his place
Knowing thy Attick tongue can goe his pace.
When Priam's Paris liv'd (hadst thou been borne,
The godesses would thee their judge have sworne.
Had Barclay seene thy booke, he would have said
Vnhappy Argenis thou art betrayd.
To riper witts, in deserts mayst thou be
(Hating bright Sol) deform'd Nyctimine
Let Satyrs now be packing, and that name
That would eclipse the lustre of thy fame.
What shall I give thee? such titles sure as these
Amphitruo or Bombimachides.
Mentfieur of Helicon, Marquis of the Mount
Pernassus, and of the Cabaline fount
Poets Collosse, under whose mighty feet
May saile a greater then the Spanish Fleete
To Loves Elizium, in stately boules
Where heav'nly Nectar suck Platonick soules.
I sweare by Venus and her turtle dove,
He's like a Tartar that does not thee love.

To his worthy Friend Mr. Robert Baron upon his excellent POEM.

Let ancient Poets stand agast to see
Themselves so farre out-run, out-stript by thee
Minerva's Magazin, who hast not seen
The third part of their yeares, nay scarce seventeen.
Hither may ancients come, and grieve to see
Their learning all Epitomiz'd in thee.
Thy language is of proper words and phrase,
What it affects it easily brings to passe,
Were chast Penelope surviving now,
Her stubborne heart it would make soone to bow.
Cupid directs thy heart, thy pen Apollo,
Or else such lofty straines thou couldst not swallow.
Had'st thou not been in love, sure thou coul'st ne're
Have writ such sublime raptures as are here.
No more let Greece of famous Homer boast,
No longer let old Ovids sacred goast
Be grieved for, he now survives againe,
Henceforth let dropping eyes cease, and amaine
Let inke run from your quills in blazing forth
This our inspir'd Poets praise and worth.
I hold the opinion of Pithagoras,
This Muse cannot be lesse then Ovids was,
Onely it suffered a transmigration
Into a body of a newer fashion.
Vnto thy booke may all men have recourse,
It doth descry the effects of love, the force
Of armies and after victory the rest
Which no man can so all as are exprest.
In this thy booke Faminius his life
Thou hast exprest together with his wife
Clorinda, Poets vaile fayre Helens face
Her's one indeede what she but painted was.
Now lovers cease t'invoke and call upon
God Pan for his sage direction
In Nuptiall Hymnes, we scorne the common story
This booke henceforth shall be our Directory,
The prayses all to write should I accord
Each line to me Encomiums would afford:
But I have done, my pen is nought, and I
Have but a slender vaine in poesie.
Wherefore farwell, goe on as th' ast begun
To make thy name more glorious then the sun.
Thus wishing the each man a happy guest
Unto thy booke I take my leave and rest.

To my speciall Freind Mr. Robert Baron upon his ΕΡΟΤΟΠΑΙΓΝΙΟΝ.

Iewell of Nature whom a blessed age
To us hath brought forth ev'n an Albion sage.
Were't not obsurdity with silent quill
To vaile in verse and propose thy Atick skill.
Had a wise Sybill our Euriphilus
But auguriz'd of thy approach to us
Each hand had itched to be buisied
In weaving Chaplets to adorne thy head.
Criticks may now prejudicate, what though?
They shew their envy, neither hurt they you,
Minerva brought thee forth, Eupheme then
The Muses nurse nurst thee the gem of men.
Thou Ovid-like thou from thy infancy
Brought'st this Heroick straine now shewne by thee.
In which high tract thou Mars and Venus clere,
Thou Neptune also dost demonstrate heare.
Thee Mars in field may justly generall,
Thee Neptune may by sea vice admirall
Insert: Thee Venus in her lofty state,
May make her amorous associate.
Now hither may resort most antique sages
Incredulous that these our iron ages
A Phænix should produce, t'is true, and sure
Natures best fabrick now within us indure.
If these but wits first blossomes are, what then
May be expected from thy riper pen.
In this faire roade proceede we thee desire
That as thy youth, we may thine age admire.

To his much esteemed Friend Mr Robert Baron upon his Poem.

When Morpheus (Serjeant of the night) had spred
The foulding curtaines of my drouzy bed,
This vision (in my dreame disturbed rest)
Kept midnight Revels in my troubled brest.
Me thinkes I saw upon the bifork't mount
Ray-circuled Apollo set, and count
His bay brow'd Sonnes I saw Jove's daughter too
Minerva, in her right hand leading you,
In'r left she held thy booke, she bow'd and broake,
Her long continued silence, and thus spoke,
“See Phæbus, here a new star risen be
“I'th Galaxia of sweet poesie,
“No Plbeian Poetaster, he is one
“That is the A'tlas of thy Lyrick throne,
“You'ue seene his face, take here his booke and finde
“Portraitur'd by his owne rare pen, his minde.
He took't and red thy slowrie pastorall,
Thy courtly masque, verse, prose, applauded all,
He stood amaz'd (to say true) and did muse
That one so young such fine things should produce.
At last he tooke a Daphnian wreath and laid
It on thy ever honour'd head and said,
“Welcome deare sonne still may the Delphick lyre
“Be struck by thee, sonne welcome to our quire.
“thy Life beyound thy Life from shall extend,
“Fates have not power to make thy end, thy end.
“Thou shalt out-live thy selfe, and not be dead
“When dead this wreath shall bud about thy head,
“These strenuous lines, these smooth poetick layes
“Shall crowne thy Urne with ever-verdant bayes.
This done, I wak't, and proud am growne to be
A SMITH to Hammer out thy dignity.

To his admired friend Mr. Robert Baron upon his Booke.

Great Madam Nature's womb as yet I see
Is not growne feeble, it hath brought forth thee,
Our ages ornament, t'ath brought forth thee,
VVho art a Nestor in thy infancie.
Thy thoughts (though green) so ripe they are, and rare
VVith hoarie wisedome they may well compare.
In thy elaborate Poem, fancies seeme
In Learnings choyce, and cheife spoyles triumphing.
Wits deepest mines thy eagles eye can spy.
Thy cleerer soule sound their profundity.
This thriving bayes, this verdant lawrell sprout,
O're tops old slanders, at's peeping out,
It shall even Scythian frosts survive, and last
In spite of spattering envy, and the blast
Of Momus keener breath, it shall be seene,
Like youthfull Daphnie alwayes clad in greene.
Cant pale fac't study cowe thy haughty sprite?
Renowned Sir, wilt thou proceed in spite
Of knotty arts? goe on still and be blest,
Tough ruggid sciences thou shalt digest,
And swallow time himselfe, who ne're shall have
Power to reare for thy great name, a grave.

ΕΡΟΤΟΠΑΙΓΝΙΟΝ

THE CYPRIAN ACADEMY.

The First Booke.

[Erected by sweet Siren, said to be]

Erected by sweet Siren, said to be
By Phaleris built, stil'd once Parthenope;
Rich hort-yard of the dove-drawn Queen of Love,
New field of th' Hydra slaying son of Jove.
Fat soyle of liberall Ceres, crown'd with corne,
Rare vineyard of the wine-wet god unshorne.
Boast not because no Citie's like to thine,
For sweetnesse, Empire, beauty, strength, corn, wine,
Boast not thy rarities, thy bubling Fount,
Labulla call'd, nor yet thy bifork't Mount
Vesuvius, whence Sol's Steeds (with mains be curl'd)
That circumdates in twice twelve hours the world,
Doe first begin their race, as if it were
Their master Phœbus private Bed-chamber.
Brag not of thy obscure Chimerian dale,
Ne're seen by Sol, nor by his Sister pale.
Nor cause thou giv'st a grave to him whose verse,
The conquests of victorious Kings reherse,
Brag neither of the pleasant water'd Lake,
Aquano term'd, so fatall to the Snake.
Nor of Authentick Sibills domicil,
Whose past predictions bald time fulfill.
Insult not Parthenope because you have
Lacus Avernus, and black Charons cave,
And sootie Vulcans fier-spitting Court,
Wherin he tempers armes to make Mars Sport
'Tis this Parthenope, tis this that raise
Especiall Trophies to thy lasting praise;
Flaminius, whom fame affirmes to be
Made in dame Natures prodigality;
Flaminius, whose name live till times glasse run,
For earths last dark Eclipse of no more Sun,
Was borne in thee, at whose Nativity,
A generall Turnament was held i'th Skie,
The Stars did run a tilt, and Phæbus bright;
Danc't a Coranto with the Queen of night,
The Rocks did Eccho forth his name, and none,
Of their dull clifts, but did repeat that tone.
Orpheus did string his harpe with nimble hand,
To sound his praise,—Silvanus did command
Mirtles to dance, the pines their roots forgoe,
The Holmes and branching Elmes did caper too,
Sweet firre-trees friskt, and sublime Cedars ran.
Joves tall Oake fed by gumms Assyrian,
Joyn'd in a Galliard with that lofty tree,
Whose courtly boughs the meed of valour be,
And odor-breathing Zephyr this news bore
On's way, unto a grove of Sycomore,
Whilst there he told it in a slowrie gale
Tres bow'd their tops, as thankfull for his tale.
Each flowing streame in gentle murmuring tones,
Whisperd these tidings to the pebble stones.
Nor was Amphions sphear enchanting Lute,
(Whose sound erected Theban structures) mute.
Pan on his reed, on his pipe Mercurie,
Carrold in Sonnets their festivity.
With beamie eyes, and bright disheveld hairs,
The Nymphs tript ore the Lawns,—thus chim'd the Sphears
Naples rejoyce, a Prince is borne in thee
Whose fame shall burgeon to Eternity.

GRIPUS AND HEGIO,

OR THE PASSIONATE LOVERS.

A Pastorall Acted by the Lady Iulias Servants, for the entertainment of Flaminius.

Dramatis Personæ.

• Gripus A lover.
• Hegio A lover.
• Venus.
• Cupid.
• Mira. A young Shepherdess.
• Daris. A young Shepherdess.
• Tyndarus. The young Shepherdess' Father
• Micon. The young Shepherdess' Father.
• Dipsas. The young Shepherdess' Mother.
• Thestila. The young Shepherdess' Mother.
• Agroticus. A ridiculous Clowne.
• Hymen.
• Eccho.
• Chorus of Fairies.
• Flambio, a Shepherds Boy.

PROLOGVE

Flambio.

Actus 1.

Scena 1

Gripus. Hegio.
[Gripus.]
VVhen gaudy Flora in her prime
Observing it was Summer-time
With fragrant flowers of each day
Had made our mother Tellus gay,
The new borne plumed minstrills fills
The smiling heaven and ecchoing hills,
With chirping musick, ev'ry grone
Was made their quire.—Olympick Iove
Commanded Aprels balmy shoures,
To refresh the March bred flowers,
And May perfection in each field
To Aprils suckling babes to yield.
The spring perfumed this brood, whose smell
The Phenix nest might paralell.
Now did approach the festivall
Of god Silvanus nuptiall
To his groue haunting Clarida,
Then all the Faunes keept holyday.
The nimble faries danc't, and all
The dieties agresticall.
Claius and kind Phisipile
Vow'd loving Man and wife to be.
So Clodin did to Colatine,
So Serin to his Eglatine,
So Cloris did to Coridon,
And so delt sheapheards many a one.
At length imploring love to be
So propitious vnto me,
To Mira the faire sheapheardesse
In courteous wise, I did addresse
My hand, my heart, my cap, my coyne,
With all the good I could conjoyne,
But she coy thing, refus'd to prove
What gentle Hymen is, or loue.
As pevish Daphne fled away
From the illustrator of the day;
Even so my sight coy Mira flies,
My sighes she slights, my suit denies.
When glorious Sol hath turn'd his back,
And all the world is hung with black.
Sleepe (natures soft-nurse) flyes my eyes,
My mind's ore-cast as are the skies.
When vailes are drawne, and dim fac'd night
Have againe resign'd her right.
To Phosphorus traine, when Titans head,
Is washed from his Sea-greene bed,
To shew his hoary looks, my griefe
'Gaine urge my tongue to beg reliefe
To ease my minde, you Gods above,
Or let me dye, or make her love.

Hegio.
Propitious more betide the friend, good day,
Joves spangled Canopie protect thee still;
May he himselfe from's Saphire colour'd throne
Descend to be thy guardian, good day.

Gripus.
Wish me good day? it stands in idle stead,
My Mira's coy, all my good dayes are dead.

Hegio.
Cheare up sad Gripus, or the cause declare,
Why thou art thus plung'd in a deepe fit of
Unprofitable melancholy, what?
Hast made a case of spissified teares
For thy swoll'n eyes, which are to limbicks turn'd
Through which a running pearly torrent flow
That lay the dust thy stamping feet doth raise.
What unexpected stratagem have thus
Perplext thy minde, exil'd thy judgement, and
Condens'd thy understanding, and betray'd
Thy spirits to disquiet passions.
As frolick and as joviall I have knowne thee,
As any of Paris followers, why then
Dost terminate the sad Catastrophe
And period of each sentence, with a sigh,
A deepe, a farre-fetcht-sigh, such as would seeme
The stuctures rafters for to cleave in sunder,
But where such griefe I find, needs must I wonder.

Gripus.
Cupid hath fixt a golden shaft in me,
Which makes me love, but into Mira's breast
Have shot a leaden, a hate-causing dart,
To love, and not to be belov'd againe,
Is misery counted by each rustick Swaine.

Hegio.
Is love thy doloriferous disease?
Quench, quench those smothring sparks, lest suffered
They kindle, and increase into a flame,
An inauspicious, and perpetuall flame.
And like the glowing Amazonian cell,
Scorch all that doe approch it nigh, and last
Like fire-spitting Ætna wast its selfe.
Amour la fut jamais ou sans peur, ou sans pleurs.
Love never was without both feares and teares.
Let then the bucket of thy courage stout,
Draw so much reason out of the noble well
Of thy understanding, as soone will quench
This childish, and unmanly agony.
What sad disterous torches Hymens light
At every nuptiall? what unfortuate hands
Sincke in the circle of the wedding ring,
Nought breed in bridal sheets, but pinching feares,
Iarres, discontents, suspitions, jelousies,
Which nought but parting death can terminate.
If kinder Hymen prove propitious,
And vexe thee not with these; a barren wombe,
A curse as cruell, may annoy thee still,
Or else abortive births thy joy may kill.
Or if with setled hope her time she goes,
And then invite Lucina to her throwes,
Or by hood-winkt mischance, or open blame,
Why may not Atropos for Lucina come.
If that infest thee not, tis small delight
To see a little wanton ride a cock-horse
Upon a painted staffe, or heare him chatter,
Like a taught Sterling, Parret, or hoarse pye.
I'de rather fill a barne full then a bed;
More profit tis to have a crooked plough
Still going, then a tottering cradle rocke.
But more then that, these I terme foolish men,
(But foolish is the Amorists epithite,
Ou peut a peine aymer ensemble estre sage,
One scarse can be both wife, and love, together)
That ere will trust their honour in a Burke,
Made of so flight weake bulrush as woman,
Apt every fleeting minute for to sincke it.
And how canst thou expect fidelity,
In the disloyall sex call'd feminine.
Remember fiftie sisters, Belus daughters,
Who all (save one) made of their husbands slaughters.
And both th' Atrides had their envied lives
Endanger'd by the falsehood of their wives.
Euriphile (false Hag) her husband sould
To Poliayces for a chaine of gould.
And Queene Euridice conspired
How to deliver to grim visag'd death
Her regall Lord, and husband to enthrone
In his voyd roome her fancied Sonne in Law.
The fierce Medea did delacerate
Absyrtus tender members, to escape
Her Fathers pursute, if we may rely
On the report of sage Antiquity.

Grip.
Thou pleadst against thy selfe, Ile turn the point
Of thy last daggar into thine owne breast.
Thou sayst Medea tore in twaine her brother
Absyrtus, tis confest, 'twas to discover
Her ardent, and firme setled desire
To follow Jason, ungratefull Jason,
Who after that, left her and all her charmes,
To clap another Lady in his armes.
So have I seene a Horse-leach oft embrace,
Cleave to and hang upon some bloud-swoln face,
Till its owne turne be serv'd, it holdeth fast,
Untill his panch be full, then drop at last.
But to our taske. Penelope liv'd chaste,
Though twice five years her royall Lord was gone,
Did not Æneas flie, and leave his sword
To let out over-credulous Dido's bloud.
When as Hiero blam'd his wife, 'cause she,
Never inform'd him of his stinking breath.
I thought (quoth she) that all mens breaths smelt so.
Arria when Petus was condem'd to dye,
First stab'd her selfe, then giving him the steele,
This wound (deare Petus grieves me not quoth she)
But that which thou must give thy self grieves me.
The Minians wives having obtained leave,
To say valete to their dying Lords,
Exchang'd their habits, and expos'd themselves
(In their escaped Spouses roomes) unto
The penalty of the offended Law.
Dona the partner of her husbands woe,
With him a long way (as his Page) did goe.
When Conrad gave the Matrons leave to beare,
From Weinsberg foe-girt town what best they lik't,
Each tooke up her owne husband on her backe.
Cornelia Annia did prostrate lye,
On her defunct Lords Sepulchre, and dye;
For this cause annually a paire of Doves
Are sacrific'd to their firme setled loves.
And happy Phillacides loyall wife,
From death redeem'd him with the losse of life.
But in my uncertaine waies hath Phillis gone.
To find her runnagate Demophoon.

Hegio.
Humanum est errare, I confesse,
Both sexes then are faulty; but what else
Doe thy deluded eyes discover in
Thy Mira, that thy heart should fancy her.
Ist for her skin-deep beauty (her chiefest pride)
That's but times fading flowre, which as tis
Most delicate, is as volatious.
Its like unto the Colours Phidias drew,
Which seemed most admirable to the view,
But suddenly did vanish and impaire,
At the weake puff of each aeriall breath.
A wife is but a faire affliction.
Symonides reputed her to be,
The Shipwrack of a man, the tempest of
A house, the troubler of quiet rest.
A prison of life, a plague assiduall,
A sumptuous conflict, a necessary evill,
A horrible care, an ordinary battell,
A dayly hinderance, the humane slavery,
A faire Aspe, an inevitable paine,
A pleasant damage, a domestick strife.
If then coy Mira scorne with thee to dwell,
On earth leave her to leade bruit Apes in hell.

Gripus.
Quote not these Accherontick Anchorites.
Those stollid moatheaten Foolosophers,
That libell against Angels, those night-birds
That doe defile even their owne nests, nay worse,
That strangle sacrilegiously the fames
Of their owne mothers; Those ungracious brats
That impiously requite with Stygian Inke
The Nectar which indugently they lent them.
Heed not the hissing of that viperous brood
Of Parricides to their own mothers names.
A female is the second part of man,
She is a male i'th the newest edition,
A wife's the best of her Lords movable.
For such a one fierce Champions have prov'd tame,
The stoutest Souldiers trembled, and look wan,
Ready to give their ghost up at a frowne,
The oracles of wit and Philosophy,
Have been loves fooles, and bent their litterature,
But to expresse great loves Supremacie,
And the extent of its Dominions.
Nay under Venus sacred Ensignes march,
Etheriall troopes of high mounted gods.

Hegio.
Well, each man as he likes, but should the mad
Disloyall Sycophant, whose spheare is woe,
Attempt to shoot a raving shaft at me,
In's many peeces I would make't recoile
Upon his corps, as there be golden sands,
In the Pactolian or Tagean shores.

Gripus.
Cease, cease, good Hegio, to repine at love,
Atlantas pace was staid by golden balls.
And gods themselves are oft ensnar'd by love,
For they have slipt beyond their skill in that,
They have made beauty of a greater force
Then they themselves are able to resist.
For Læda, Jove became a wandring Swan,
And for Europia a loud lowing Bull,
And for Antiopa a Satyre rude,
And for bright Danae a storme of Ore.
Did not Apollo leave his burnish't throne,
Lay by his tresses? and in humane shape,
Most humbly beg a boone at beauties gate?
Did not Alcides for Jole's sake
With huge oft draw the slender threed.
He was tane captive by his captives looke,
She tooke the Conquerour that had her tooke.
Kind Paris for to steale his dainty peece,
Travell'd as farre as betwixt Troy and Greece.
And Perseus amongst the Negroes sought,
And faire Andromade from Jnde brought.
Cupid can make the Regall Lyon sport,
In amorous dalliance with the frisking Kid.
Venus can yoake the ravenous and fell kite,
With milder Swans in the same Chariot;
Immane rapacious Eagles she can linck
And timorous silver-brested Doves together.
When she commands all animalls lay by
Their contrarieties, and antipathy.

Exit.
Hegio.
Enjoy, sir, your conceit, but for my part,
I am invulnerable, thou blind Boy
Shalt never take me captive, I am like
Achilles dipt in Styx, nor doe I feare
Thy boy-ships shafts, goe play with angry Bees
And painted Butterflies, and at the Wasps nest,
And when th' art stung, in thy mams lap goe rest.

Scena 2.

Venus. Cupid.
[Venus.]
Hearke Cupid and revenge, this prophane Swaine
Do's slight thy quiver, and blaspheme thy bow,
He sayes he's shot-proofe, scornes thy archery,
Scoffes at thy skill.

Cupid.
Ile penetrate his heart,
Ile make him be an earnest Votary
Unto a marble-hearted female Saint.
Ile melt to amorous thoughts his soule of stone,
Ile torture 'm in loves torrid, frigid Zone.
Ile make him in the same flames freez, and fry,
The world shall be inamour'd of his woe,
Ile find a Shepherdesse in whom he'le joy,
And this his darling I will soone infect
With coynesse and with nicenesse, for her sake.
His morning Orisons shall nothing be
But numbers of innumerable sighs,
Which he shall count by pearly teares, not beads.
Ile make the cherries of her ruby lips
The onely cordials for to sustain
His loathed life, and those shall be like to
Fugacia poma, which like Tantalus
He alwaies shall desire, and alwaies misse.
Ile make him view the place where she hath set,
And thither he shall repaire, as if he thought,
The place some soveraigne vertue did containe
To ease him, and to cure his gnawing paine.

Venus.
Let him not wander far from home to seeke
Deepe streames in which to wash his frisking flockes.
Let such uncessant flouds flow from his eyes
As may supply the want of rivolets,
Let his pin'd cheekes and hollow countenance,
Affight all wolves from his secure sheepe,
Let him spend all his daies in pinching griefe,
And melancholy discontents; and looke
Like to a wither'd tree o're-growne with drosse.
Let his illetable and pensive sighes,
Scare all rapacious, and omenous Ravens
From picking out the eyes of his young Lambs
Bleating for nutriment unto their dammes.

Cupid.
Innumerable such effects as these,
Shall all be caus'd by this keen pointed dart.
When as the long-tongu'd Lord of envious light,
Whose presence make the day, whose absence night.
Betray'd my mother, and the god of warre.
Unto the sooty, black, club-footed dolt,
As he was tempering of a thunder-bolt,
For to revenge this wrong, I made him prove,
The power of my golden shaft and love.
And I will make this Hegio soone confesse,
I am a god, and of the starry race. He shoots.

Now lay thy hatred downe, thy spite decline,
And prove a votarie at Daris shrine.

Exeunt.

Scena 3.

Hegio
solus.
But sure I was not borne Minerva-like?
Nor did fond Paracelsus teach my Sire
To make a man without conjunction,
What furious madnesse did possesse my brest
To flout at love? and wrong the femal sex?
And to requite in a sharpe Satyrs straine,
The roundelayes, and charming lullabies,
That my indulgent genetrix did warble?
What are my braines grown dry, or my bloud cold?
Or am I on a sudden waxen old?
I thought, though Cupids aire-deviding shaft,
Soone penetrated the well tempered
Corsset: which the hot-halting god of fire,
Made for his boysterous rivall, it should not find,
Or make a way to vulnerate my mind.
And therefore Venus I blaspem'd thy sonne,
But now I sing a Palinodia.
Alas I have beheld that lovely face
That from her eyes shot Cupids into mine,
T'abuse my sight, and worke upon my frailty,
With their smooth oratory to undoe me,
Among thy other trophies let me be,
Kind Cupid, Hertan Porrigo to thee,
Me thinks soft love hath lately made a breach
Into the batter'd bulworks of my breast,
And there commandeth all my yeelding powers,
Which now insulteth in their vassalage.
One looke hath struck my soule into a feaver,
Me thinks affection whispereth in my eare
Faire Daris name, Daris the shepherdesse;
An object beautified with the choice gifts
Of liberall nature, and of vertue too,
My wandring eye hath made my heart receive
So good opinon of the forenam'd Nymph,
And hourely it solliciteth my tongue,
To trie my fortune, and to let it know,
Whether its like in Daris love to rest
In happy blisse, and blissefull happinesse;
Which if deny'd, its suddenly prepared,
To leave my skelliton unto grim death.
But courage Hegio, let not cold despaire
Chill thy greene, and wide-gaping wounds too fast;
She is a woman, and she may be wonne,
Venus Adonis lov'd, why may not she
Prove love-sick too, and at length fancie me:
Shall I be bashfull then, and so expire
With griefe; fie, fie, what shall a womans eye
Prevaile so farre o're me to cause me dye,
And leave my name in the fooles Callender,
And there be noted with a rubie letter,
For a supereminent Festivall;
No, I am loath to leave earth yet, Ile try
If I may live, and find a remedie.

Exit

Scena 4.

Chorus of Faires.
Bright Phœbus who with morning light
Put'st Hesperus twinckling traine to flight,
When as thou rowzest, and display
Thy golden locks, and summon day;
Thou who dost rest thy drowzie-head,
In aged Thetis froathy bed:
When as thy gilded Car of day,
His glowing axle doth allay.
Thou who in twice 6 Months fulfill
Thy journall on th' Olympian hill,
Illustrious Lord of light, in vaine
Thou bragg'st with arrowes to have slaine
Thy Python sterne, whose massie bones
Were Iron barres, like congeal'd stones
His knotty sinewes were, the boughes
Wer's shady covers; his great troughes
Deepe Rivolets, which he (well nigh)
Caroused at one watering dry:
His belching shot forth flames, his eye
Shin'd like the dapled morning skie.
Faire Venus thy young hood winkt sonne
More glorious trophies oft have won,
Thou that crown'st thy loves with bayes,
Inventer of mellodious Layes.
Thou left'st Pernassus bifork't hill,
And Tempe thy faire domicill,
At loves command, and all to be
At Daphne's shrine a Votary.
Thou that did'st by virtuall heat
The happy plants, and herbes create,
Couldst find no plant, or herbe to be
A medicine for loves maladie.
When thou commandst the birds to bring,
In triumph to the world, the Spring,
The new-clad earth hath quickly lost
Her Snow-white roabes, no chilly frost
Candies the grasse, no ycie creame
Congeale the lake, or pearly streame;
No snow lies sheltred in the shade,
The earth is thaw'd and tender made:
For all thy heat, thy love doth lowre,
Nor had thy scalding rayes the power
To thaw her Marble yce, and this
T'was caus'd her Metamorphosis.

Large limb'd Hercules trebly blest
With fame, thou who in youth exprest
Deedes of honour, thy cradle's crownd
With brave achivements, which renown'd
Thy name; thy valour was suppli'd
With strength, thy haughty spirit defi'd
An hoast of men, Heaven ne're conjoyn'd
So strong a body, or so stout a mind.

1.

Brag not cause you slew and withstood
Within the thick Næmæan wood
A beast, the temper of whose heart
Was like a nether Milstone; Dart,
Nor threatning Sword, nor frightfull Speare,
Could terrifie it with Panick feare:
Like knotty wreaths of craggy brasse
His sinewes were, a noise did passe
From's mouth, which might strike deafe the eares
Of mortals, and affright the Spheres;
You wore his ruggid shaggie hide
About your shoulder, and left side.

2.

The Hydra by thy hand was slaine,
Whose heads lopt off sprouted againe.
The mud was made his downie bed,
The stones were pillowes for his head,
His speckled jawes which hideous were,
Thy brawny armes did boldly teare.

3.

Thy club made th' Erymanthean Beare.
Lye weltring in his ruddy goare,
His sharpened tusks shall spoile no more
(As it was wont to doe before)
Arcadia, which in antique dayes
Did warble out her well-tun'd Layes,
And sing loves on her oaten reed,
Whilst her secure flocks did feed.

4.

The Centaure thou subdu'st by force,
Halfe like a man, halfe like a horse.

5.

Swifter then wind you ran, or thought,
On foot a running Stag you caught.

6.

Rapacious bird Stymphalide,
Were made a prey to death by thee.

7.

Thou mighty Scavinger wert able
To clense the foule Augean stable,

8.

You made a Bull to crosse the Maine,
And graze on Neptunes liquid plaine.

9.

And Diomedes fell monster,
Who made his captives provender
To his proud pamper'd steeds, by thy
Revengefull hand did justly dye.

10.

False Cacus thou didst crush to death,
And 'twixt thy armes squeeze out his breath:

11.

Cease the adjuring world to tell
Of thy forc't entrance into Hell.
You swadled Charon with his oare,
The triple-headed ban-dog roare,
And yelle: you Pluto ere you're gone
Confronted on his jeaty throne.

12.

Exeunt.

Actus 2.

Scena 1.

Hegio. Grypus.
Now we are both in the same predicament
Of Passion, we both blest objects love.
But through their nicitie, and coy disdaine,
We're like Loves cursed abjects both to prove.
Now, now we Symbolize in egritude,
And Simpathize in Cupids malady.
My drooping head, my deepe contracted brow,
My bloudlesse cheeks, dead eyes, pale lips, faint tongue,
Shall strive in each point thine to equalize.
My heart even now resolv'd my hasty feet
Should measure out the over tedious way
To Daris (whose faire face a garden is,
In which fresh beautie plants her choysest flowres
But frozen Winter keeps his risidence.
Ith Domicil of'r Adamantine heart.)
I thought each wearie step to be a mile,
I thought each pace to be a measur'd league,
Untill I heard her tender nibling Lambes
Imploring with their bleating oratory,
Some aliment of their indulgent dames.
At length I spi'd upon a happy mount.
My Daris, whom the Sunne did gently kisse,
(Being then mounted in his mid-day heat.)
Daris both singing sat, and knitting too.
As if her nimble fingers sought to keep,
True tune with her tongues Musicke.—

Gripus.
Even now anatomiz'd by groanes and sighs,
Almost interr'd and buried in woe,
To Mira's pastures I resolv'd to goe,
The sheep and lamkins with rich fleeces loaden,
Became my spokes-men, and with bleating noise
Pleaded at Mira's barr for my admission.
She mounted sate upon a happy hillock.
Clad in the verdent plush of Madam Nature,
In twisted braids of silver Lillies knitting,
The loose traine of her amber dropping haire.
Phœbus my rivall prov'd, and wo'd my faire,
He graz'd upon her corall lips, and bath'd
Himselfe in balmy juice of fervent kisses.
He seiz'd the rose-buds in the spicy beds
Of her delicious cheekes, whilst thus shee sung.

Exit.
Hegio.
As when my over daring eye behold
The suns bright beames, I twinckle with my lids:
Even so the rayes, the day creating rayes,
The radient rayes, which Daris doe dart forth
From th' Ebon arches of her heavenly browes
(Whose winkes convert the highest mounted sun,
The noon-day sun, unto a gloomy shade)
Have blasted my weake eyes, and lately led
Unto her royall person me a slave.
My eyes are swollen up, as loath to see
The glaring sun, so injurious to me,
That bright coale which cleares all the world beside
Hang like a fatall commet ore my head,
Ere since he's so unkind in holding forth
Enough of light to see this shining lasse
Whose eyes will prove my parching burning glasse.

Exit.

Scena 2.

Mira. Daris. Tyndarus. Mycon. Dipsas. Thestila.
Mira.
Haile Daris, may I joy you?

Daris.
Me, for what?

Mira.
For what? each busie Shepherdesse have fill'd
Her lap with flowers, for to compose, and knit
A nuptiall chaplet for your Bridall browes.

Daris.
The Bridegromes wanting still,

Mira.
No, tis Hegio,

Daris.
Psh, if your love sick Gripus speed no better
In's earnest suite, then Hegio's like to doe
Hel'e never breake with you a Bridall cake;
But why should I say if? 'tis sure enough
Each Shepherd now is tuning of his pipe
To warble your Epithalamians.

Mira.
Then let them turne them into Elegies
And Epicediums for Gripus death.

Daris.
And let the Shepherdesses weaue a wreath
Of Willowes to encircle Hegio's browes.
Here comes our Parents.

Tyndarus.
These faire maides, I hope.
Are counselling each other to prove kinde,
And pitty their distressed lovers.

Daris.
Lovers,
Sir, what have we to doe with lovers, wee
Have sworne alleageiance at Diana's shrine;
If we should love, we breake the faith we owe
To Virgin purenesse, and our vestall vow.

My.
Such are like plum-trees that doe crooked grow
Ore standing pooles, they laden are, and rich
With pleasant fruits; but nought but chattering Pyes,
And Crowes, and Catterpillars feed upon them.

Tyndarus.
O fie upon this single life, forgoe it,
We read how Daphne for her peevish flight,
Became a fruitlesse Bay-tree, Sirinx turn'd
To a pale empty Reed, Anaxarite
Was frozen into Marble, whereas those,
Which married, or prov'd kind unto their friends,
Were by a gracious influence transform'd
Into the Olive, Pomegranet, Mulberie,
Became Flowers, precious Stones, or eminent Starres.

Dip.
Imprudent girles, why should we women prove
Sore tortures, and disturbances to men,
If we be foule we're odious and loath'd.

Thest.
And such unkinde girles as these are, if faire,
Are like rich vessels full of poysonous drugges,
Or like blacke Serpents arm'd with golden scales.

Mira:
Cease to perswade, for Gripus name and death
Have both one sound in my esteeme, that tongue
Which warble forth the one, doe chant the other.

Daris.
That direfull sound, that most disasterous knell
Attendeth Hegio's name, and ever will.

Tynd.
Rare grace, and comely feature both are joynd
In you, as if they both cospir'd to make
Two parragons, which should excell each other.
Shall common beauties then, and meaner faces
Enjoy these joyes, which your selves deny
Unto your selves, no let your gentle hearts
Imbrace the sweets due to so faire deserts,
Your lovely features were bestow'd on you
By liberall nature for to be injoy'd;
And 'twere a sinne where she have beene so free
Of her best graces, to be nigardly.

Micon.
Wound not your selves through your poore lovers sides,
Starve not your selves to make them pine away,
Be kind unto your selves, if not to them.

Dipsas.
Vse time, the squabling Snake with age oreworne
Casts off her hide, and re-assumes a new.
The towring Eagle change her aged plumes,
The fading Rose (the glory of the Spring)
Receive an annuall birth from the sharp briar,
Be wise, and crop in time your beauties flowers,
They ne're spring more, being faded once, like ours.

Thest.
Vse time, no lovers will croud to impart
Their thriving sutes to your age deafned eares,
Chuse constant lovers then whilst that you may,
Such as love for a like-long-age, not dayes,
Your beautie's fraile, and soone will bud, and wither,

Mir.
With beauty love will bloome, & blow together.

Daris.
Beauty and love are like the coupled twins
Of wise Hipocrates, who both at once
Received birth, and nutriment, and death.

Mira.
He ne're shall crop my youthfull beauties slower
That i'le cease to love, when beauty 'gins to lower.

Exeunt.

Scen. 3.

Gripus. Hegio
Gripus.
Of late I did (not brooking a deniall)
Renew my suite, attempt a further triall,
Intreat, conjure, I left no way untri'd
I must not, no I would not be deni'd.
This was my resolution, but she
The obdurate portall of whose Marble heart
Was lockt, and barr'd against the powerfull art
Of oft repeated teares, or far fetcht sighs,
Or deep, and heart-bred groanes, stood deaf, and dumbe
She must not, no she would not be o're come.

Hegio.
I never move her, but my hopelesse triall
Alwayes reade Hieroglypicks of deniall.

Gripus.
Still lets proceede, who knowes we may prevaile,
Let not our best advis'd indeavours faile,
To be employd, lets make a further triall,
And fairly speed or find a foule deniall.

Exeunt.

Scena. 4.

Chorus of Faires
Some love, and have their loves rewarded
Some love, and are no whit regarded,
Some woe and speed, some woe and be
Rejected for their loyaltie,
This tyrant love compar'd may be
To th' Macedonian dietie
Whose lookes seem'd sometimes to disdaine
This Champion, or that again,
It would cast amorous glances forth
Applauding to his mighty worth.
No torture, no affliction
Like to true loves passion,
This made Sophocles wish his foe
Might onely be tormented so.

Exeunt.

Actus 2.

Scena 1.

Hegio. Gripus.
Hegio.
Exil'd from mirth I wander up and downe,
Gall'd with loves tyranous torment, lo I ly,
Inthrall'd, and bound in Cupids golden chaines,
Perplext with wo, my feature all is blur'd
And chang'd, and I am Metamorphosed.

Gripus.
I am transformed too, O how hath passion
Thrust all my thoughts, and senses out of fashion.

Hegio.
My head of late was thatcht with yellow straw
Now it is perriwig'd with Winters gray.

Gripus.
My front as smooth as Ivory while ere
Now beares deepe furrowes, made by sorrowes plough,
In which the seeds of woe are scattered.

Hegio.
My eyes are Ilands, they're girt round about
With troubled Oceans, and tides of teares.

Gripus.
I spend those teares whose store will ne're be spent,
Yet shall I want teares; before cause of them.
My Mira score not up my cares, and feares,
Nor keep a Catalogue of my sad teares.

Hegio.
Quotidian feavers of reproch and scorue,
Have chill'd the vigour of my wounded heart,
Yet by the scorching raies of Daris eyes,
It still is ignifi'd and glowes, and flames,
O Daris let the showres of thy love
Asswage the glowing fire of my passion.

Gripus.
If I should put to Sea and boldly plough
The glassie face of Neptune, love would be
My Pylot. If perchance I walke abroad
For recreation, my companion
Is love, the fruitlesse love, of coy Mira.

Hegio.
When the soft charmes of labour chasing sleepe
Seize with their downy wings upon my eyes,
When heavy Morpheus with his leaden keyes
Close up my watchfull senses, love's my pillow.

Grip.
Me thinks the gentle gales of winds that move
The trembling boughs, and through their palsie leaves,
Breath musicke, whisper Mira's name to me.

Hegio.
Me thinks the notes of all the chirping birds
Are chang'd, and warble nought but Daris name.

Grip.
Me thinks that Eccho which doe alwaies speak
In answer to my sighs, say Mica's coy.
Tis true, Diana hath more Nimphs then one
In store, but no fruit else will please my taste,
But what Hesperides garden brought forth,
No colour please my eye but that which was
Stained by the fish Maurieticall,
And none but Mira can my fancy move.
O Mira that my heart were flint like thine,
Or thine were soft, and plyable, like mine.

Hegio.
The birds wander in the flowrie fields
In the wild benefit of nature, live
Happier then we; for they may choose their mates,
And carroll their sweet pleasures to the Spring,
Whilst I doe languish like a a Plant in drought,
And lay all pickled up in briny teares.
Great Jove who setst upon thy Saphire throne,
Spangled with Starrs, Remember, Venus sonne
Transfixt his darts in thy celestiall breast,
And learne to pitty slighted Lovers by
The pangs you felt in that extremity.

Grip.
Sacred Apollo call to minde the time
When thou wert beauty blasted, as I am,
And if thy ayre dividing dart can't make
Mira to love, let them make Gripus dye.

Heg.
And thou faire Paphian Queen (cause of my wo)
Thy self didst once implore Adonis love,
Prove you as kind, I'me tortur'd on thy rack,
Ease my sad soule, or cause my heart-strings crack.

Exeunt.

Scena 2.

Venus. Cupid.
Venus.
What though with wrie-mouth'd scorn and squint-ey'd scoffes
These Shepherds once did sleight and scorne thy bow,
Yet don't extend thy punishments so farre,
As they should fatall prove, son save their lives.
Yeares heavy loaden with their months retire,
Months end, their date of measur'd dayes being come,
And dayes full hour'd to their periods tend,
And howres chast with light-foot minutes end,
Let their undaunted e'uls now find reliefe,
Let rip'ned time now terminate their griefe.

Cupid.
What pretty weather-cocks these women be,
I've oft heard Willow-wearing Crites say,
(Accusing Dilla of unconstancy)
That Uenus was a Planet, no fixt Sarr,
Nor did he deviate from truth in this,
Twice in a minute she will wax, and wane.
Of late made drunke with furious passion,
With eyes converted into raging flames,
With wrinckles on your sterne contracted brow,
Wrinkles (by anger made) like Sepulchers,
In which poore Hegio might have been interr'd;
Urged with speedy haste, you summon'd me
To give attendance, without slow delay,
I shook my nimble pearle-imbroider'd wings,
And cut the skie to execute your will,
I had command to torture Hegio,
To tosse him in loves blanquet, and to make him
The most distrest of men, a scorned lover,
Now you would surfet him with happinesse,
Now you would throw his Mistris Julio's armes,
You'd have her struck too, that she sick might be
No more of coynesse or unconstancie.

Venus.
The Eagle scornes to stoop unto a Fly,
The Regall Lyon doth refuse to prey
On him that prostrate lies, and will you prove
More cruell then these be? Then Poets pens
Shall Satyrs drop, and paint out thy disgrace,
Thy childehood, nakednesse, and hoodwinck't face,
Prove kind, and ev'ry tongue shall carroll forth,
And chant in amorous lines thy lasting praise. Cupid, he shoots.

Yeild (gentle girles) to love, now each goe rest,
Her amourous heart in her true lovers breast.

Scena 3.

Gripus. Hegio. Eccho.
Grip.
Lanch forth sad soule into an Ocean
Of teares, driven by the blustring gales of sighs,
To find the Haven, and seeke safe harbour out,
But stay a while, I thinke I'de neede provide
Some other Pylot for to steere and guid
Thy ballanc't bulk, besides sorrow, and griefe,
For these I feare will strike, and split o'th sands,
Wanting a Compas in their quavering hands.
How ere th' art like to leake, and sinck i'th waves,
Ith' raging Waves of sad despaire, if so
Thy sailes and tacklings thou to flames maist turn
Cast overboard thy hope, thy carkasse burne.
My grief's a boundlesse Sea that knowes no Shore.

Hegio.
O that I were a Basiliske that I
Might venome Daris, or unvenom'd dye.
To some tenebrious dungeon let us hie
Where never day shall be acquainted with us,
Where we'le remaine still in obscurity.
Cursing our fates, and never more behold
Sols radient and splendidious raies; and heare
The melancholly Owle Nictimine,
(The chiefest friend of solitarinesse)
The sullen Dogs, the immitating Apes,
Shall still converse with us, and such dumb things,
To whom nature denies use to sound our names,
Our grifes to blab, or fames to damnifie.

Eccho.
Fie,

Hegio.
We wish for death, we live without all hope,

Eccho.
Hope.

Gripus.
Hopes t'obtaine our loves their are none,

Eccho.
One.

Hegio.
'Tis bootlesse to try againe,

Eccho.
Try againe.

Gripus.
Say, shall we then obtaine reciprocall love?

Eccho.
Love.

Hegio.
Shall we assuredly
Upon a babling Eccho's voice rely?
Alas, he fondly prates, shall we beleev't?

Eccho.
Beleev't.

Gripus.
We will; and as thy tale prove true,
So will we credit Eccho's.

Eccho.
Credit Eccho.

Hegio.
Now as a well is hotter, when the ground
Weare Winters hoary mantle, then when as
Earth decking Flora doth invest the grasse
In Summers tapestry, and Junes parliament roabs
By an Antiperistasin, or by
The cirumambient ayres humidity,
Which in a manner doe besiege it round,
And make th' intrinsique heate unite, and so
Concentre to resist th' invading foe:
So let their coynesse set an edge on us,
And cuspidat our animosities.
Tu ne cede malis, sed contra audentior ito,
Yeeld not to ev'les, but 'gainst them stoutlier goe.

Exeunt.

Scena 4.

Flambio. Agroicus.
Flam.
How happy am I in my bud of youth?
The blossome of my nonage is not blowne,
Nor doe the strength of nature (yet) beginne
To uneffeminate my downy cheeke.
I place no happinesse in womens smiles,
Nor torture in their ill-becomming frownes,
My heart is shot-free (yet) nor doth it lye
In the faire casket of a Females eye,
But haile Agroicus, what think'st of love.

Agroicus.

In good sooth, I know not how to devine it, or give an extract deminution of it, but as I deceive, its very nocent, and almost omninocent, where it gits the upper hand.

Love and the botts have kill'd many an old horse, my Grandame told me that.

And I have heard an old blancient boet say that Megander swum through Hell to his Hero, I thinke hee was a Goose to doe so; And yet my Zonne Tom did

more the 'tother day, he leapt over a high wall, and waded through a deepe moate past his depth, to git to Margery.

As I came up at the butt londs end, I met him in that case, but O, how did I bemire, and wonder, to see his new slop and all his cloathes bejeered with the mud of the pond he ran through.

The old Boet I bominated before, said, That when folke fell in love, a blind naked boy, he called him Stupid, shot them, 'Twas he shot my Zonne Tom, by the Maskins I would give the best cow in my yard, to find out this raskall Stupid, and I would thrash him, as I did the Henne last Shrove-tuesday.

Exeunt.

Scena 5.

Gripus. Hegio. Hymen.
Gripus.
Like as a guilty prisoner, upon whom
Offended Justice lately past her doome,
Drags his sad Irons from the loathed jaile,
(Hopelesse to live) unto the cursed tree
Where he stands muffled (but an inch from death)
His last prayer said, and hearts confession made;
At last (unlookt for) come a slow reprieve.
And gives the wretch some few daies more to live.
Now he (lost in amazement) boldly rends
Deaths muffler from his eyes, and scarcely knows
(Being over-joy'd) whether he lives or dyes:
Even so joy whose life is quit from death,
And despaire, by Mira's propitious smiles,
Now 'gins t'approach my Festivall, and rest,
I've chast dull sorrow from my pensive brest.

Hegio.
Thanks gentle Eccho for thy sweet direction,
Thankes gentle Juno for thy kind protection,
Daris is wonne, Hence loathed Melancholly,
Avaunt, avaunt from hence thou Snake-hair'd Devill,
Thou hollow-eyde monster full fraught with evill,
Hence, to the Abysle below, thy way imbrace,
For that's thy Mansion, thy proper place.
The guife that wants a bottom, there mayst dwell,
And preside o're the counsell of darke hell,
Inthroan'd in Radamanthus seat maist raigne
Among the Cacodemons, ne're againe
Ascend to cast thy influence ore my braine.

Hymen.
You that in this unfortunate age of love,
This haplesse time of of Cupids tyranny,
Have felt the worst that winged wag could doe
Now banish sorrow, henceforth you shall be
So happy as to thinke no wight is wretched,
Or that there is a thing call'd miserie.
What pleasures Poets fame of after death,
In the Elizean arbusted groves,
Shall spread themselves 'fore you, as if you were
Tenants, or Farmers of those blessed shades,
It shall be a perpetuall Spring, where you
Inhabit, all disasterous dewes, and blasts
Shall strangers to your happy pastures be.
Come follow me, this my well-lighted flame
Shall light you unto Ceres Tempell, where
(Expecting you) they Nuptiall garlands weare,
That hold your hearts enain'd in their golden haire.

Exeunt.

Scena 6.

Chorus of Fairies.
Exeunt cantantes.

Epilogue.

Flambio.
Out Lovers now find in their strict imbraces
The true Elyzium, (the best of places,)
Their joyes are full, they nothing want at all,
But your acceptance of their Pastorall.

Epithalamium.

Mirth and nuptiall joyes betide
Th' happy Bridegrome and fair Bride,
Sol have quencht his glowing beame
In the coole Atlantick streame,
Now their shines no tell-tale sun
Hymens rites are to be done,
Now Loves revells 'gin to keepe,
What have you to doe with sleepe?
You have sweeter sweets to prove,
Lovely Venus wakes, and love,
Goddesse of Nocturnall sport
Alwaies keep thy jocond court
In this loving couples armes
(O that my praiers might prove charmes.)
Goddesse of the marriage feast
Here approach at our request
Saturnia, whose car I saw
A harnest teame of Peacoks draw
Fercely through the fleeting skie,
Wherein sate thy majestie,
On thee did an Hoast attend
Of bright goddesses, descend
From that chariot, and blesse
Julia's womb with fruitfulnesse,
Make her, when 9 Moneths be run
Mother of a lovely son,
Let every yeer the Queene of love
Her new fill'd cradle rock, and move.
Mirth and Nuptiall joyes betide
The happy Bridegroome, and fair Bride.

[Take the low lowing Bull, the sharp-tuskt Bore]

Take the low lowing Bull, the sharp-tuskt Bore,
Besmeared with Adonis ruddy gore.)
And frisking Lambs, and with their blouds bestow
A fresh, red, corall tincture on the brow
Of froth becurled Neptune, lets arise,
And to the carefull Sea-gods sacrifice.
Let gratefull Aromatick odours burne,
Let pious incense smoake, for the returne
Of Great Flaminius, in whom abide
More Art, then raised Athens to her pride,
More civill Ethicks he containe, then may
Well moralize all sauage India.
Dance nimbly Ladies, beat the measur'd ground
With your light feet, in a fantastick round,
Lads joyntly joyne your hands, whilst y'are to greet
Flaminius, we'l joyne our measur'd feet.

THE SECOND BOOKE

[Farewell Flaminius, so smoothly sweep]

Farewell Flaminius, so smoothly sweep
The glassy face of the becalmed deep,
Devide the streames, let thy guilt brag out brave
The prouder billowes, cleave each yeilding wave,
Out-strip the tide, and with your painted oares
Stout Saylors, glide along the moving shores.
Kind Neptune claime the winds, let not them jarre
Commencing with the bubling tide, a warre.

[Rich Britain's unexchausted treasury]

Rich Britain's unexchausted treasury,
Illustrious Englands large Epitomie,
By lib'rall nature stor'd with what belong
To state, for beauty brave, for warfare strong,
Refulgent Titan who surveigheth all
Structures contained in the massy ball
Ne're saw the like—As Cypres-trees excells
The humble shrub in loftinesse and smell:
As fairest Lillies, clad in hoary plush
Exceed the fruitlesse, wither'd bramble bush:
As the springs glory (the red Rose) exceed
In beauty, and in sent, the foulest weeed:
Or as the fertile tree whose Laden boughes
With varnish pride crownes jolly Autumes browes
Transcend the Idle shrub: so you in worth
Surpasse the edifices of the earth.
As Cæsars courts surmount Amyntas cells:
So neighbouring republiques yours excells.
The Silver Thames whose bed have alwayes been
Made at thy feet, of rivers is the Queene,
Her Barges standing in even placed rowes
Like to a watry wildernesse shee showes.
The Nerean goddesse twice each naturall day
Comes fourescore thousand paces off to pay
The tribute, whom precedent times did call
Great Troy-novant polyanthropicall,
Ring out Bow bells, proclaime your joyes aloud,
People embrace the smothering throng and croud,
To view Flaminius, Euphrosyne
Right goddesse of free mirth come lead with the
The frolick mountaine Nymph faire liberty.
Attended on by youthfull Iollity,
And let your bonfires smoake asspire so high.
As if you meant with earth to sing the skie.
Let sweet Bellonius musick, and the voyce
Of Cannons sing (in a loud base) your joyes.

[Ut Sol in Cœlis; ut Lux in sole videtur]

SONG.

[First shall the Bee abhor the smell]

SONG.

[Armes and honours deck thy story]

Armes and honours deck thy story
To thy fames immortal glory,
Adverse fortune ever fly the,
No disasterous fate come nigh the,
Prosper still in martiall courses
Prosper still in arts and forces,
Bright victory
Attend the nigh,
Whilst spreading fame
Resound thy name
And Blason forth
Thy mighty worth.
Just Astræa whom Poets say
From wicked earth is fled away,
And in the bandrike hast thy seate
To make the Zadiack compleat,
Once more from thy bright throne descend
Thy owne stout Champion to defend,
Sheild him from harme
Strengthen his arme,
Kind Mars come downe
And his head crowne
With wreaths of palme,
Then myrh, and balme
Sweet insence, with the Cypresse tree,
And Cassia shall flame to the,
And Th' Magpie, and the Woolfe which be
Devoted to thy dietie,
Ride on truths champion, and goe
Assured thy haughty foe,
Shall fall like Sparrowes 'fore a halke
Thou ore his spoyles shalt boldy walke,
Bright victory
Attend the nigh,
Whilst spreading fame
Resound thy name
And Blazon forth
Thy mighty worth.

AN ELEGIE.

Hence, hence fond mirth, hence vaine deluding joyes,
Glee and alacritie, you be but toyes,
Goe gilded elves, love idle braine possesse
With fickle fancies, thick and numberlesse,
Sorrow the subject of my song shall be.
My harpe shll chant my hearts anxietie,
Pompilius the great, (who did appeare
Arts Zodiack, valours Zenith, vertus Spheare)
And sweet Capricia, (which all hearts did move,
In whom fresh beauty, charity, and love
Did claime a being) these ore all lands admir'd
That Sols bright circle warmes, are both expir'd,
Thus the Didimies or twins did, whom fate
To one another did conglutinate,
Nature at one time both did animate,
Both lives at one time did evaporate.
Bright Car of Day, which dost ditunally
Flame in the forehead of the azure skie,
Blush to behold this sad, and helplesse hap,
And hide thy head in Thetis eazy lap,
Let thy coruscant thy translucent light
Not make a difference twixt this day and night,
Let this black day be from all annalls cut
Nor in the reckoning of the yeare be put,
Let gloomy shades upon it ever passe
For to delucitate how fatall 'twas.
Rapacious Skeleton, leave death (that cares not
For wit or beauty) monster fell, (that spares not
Honours) can nothing thy nice pallate please,
(Grim sir) but such Ambrosian cates as these,
So delicate a dish may pamper thee
But make ten thousand pine, and pensive be,
Yet since thou hast caught this choyce Ambrosia
(Sweeter then Joves) we will weepe teares which may
Be Nectar too, our losse shall satiate thee,
And with our sad teares mayst thou drunken be.
Your envious fates (that holds the vitall sheares
And set upon the nine infolded Spheares
Whirling the Adamantine spindle round
On which the brittle lives of men are wound,)
Since this blest paire are fallen, let them have
An earthquake (at the least) to ope their grave.

AN EPITAPH.

Here lies a blessed paire, alive one bed,
Containd them both, and one grave being dead.
Here lies interr'd the twins of fate,
One was the Atlas of the State,
His head the throne of Art,
Of Pietie, his heart.
Minos in furre,
A friend of right
Mavors in war,
A devill in fight.
I'th others lovely face
Fresh beauty dwelt, and grace,
An Angell cloath'd in flesh, and sent
into a claie tenement
She was,—Reader admire this, and wish
Thy selfe a worme to tast so choyce a dish.

[Great Queen of change and mutability]

From this time forward solemnly we vow
To wait on sacred Lovers, whilst they plough
The vast Gulphes back; it plainely shall appeare
We will retreat, as glad to see them there;
We will concurre in one, both Sea and Wind,
To make their speedly passage safe, and kind.
I Sea will smooth my buncht brow, and invite
Their blessed eyes, to see how I delight
To bear their weight, and joyntly with them prove
Zealous adorer of the Queene of Love.
And I the Wind (to storme forgotten quite)
Will whisper new joyes to rich Amphitrite,
And in so mild a breath Ile tell my Tale,
As it shall onely fill their swelling sayle.
And I the Sea, will boyle officiously
To bring them to their harbours, whilst sad I
Lament their absence, and dissolve to teares,
And rather drowne my selfe then them with feares:
This done (kind Cytherea) now release
The Winds, and grant to the relenting Seas
Once more the ancient immunitie,
The Lamp of Lights nocturnall Bed to be:
Those acts by which fierce Juno did conspire
Alcides bane, augmented, and swell'd higher
His venerable name, which now shall last
Till Time want sand to run, or Fame a blast;
So make this tempest raysed by the Seas
To ruine thy Flaminius, encrease
His firme emolument (faire Queene of Loves)
We doe conjure thee, by thy silver Doves,
To be his Guardian, let his lasting glory
Fill all mens mouthes, and make the world a story.

THE THIRD BOOKE

[When Phaeton fell from Sols bright Throne]

An Eclogue.

Archus.
Come swaine assume thy slighted pipe, and play
Upon thy oaten reed a rounde-lay,
Come warble amorous anthems, call to be
Partakers in thy mirth the Napææ,
That haunt arbusted groves, those rurall powers
That live inshrin'd in oaken curled bowres,
Among the sapplins tall, whose shady roof
Are ringletts knitt of branching elm, star proofe,
Call Natades from their obscure fluse
By which his Alpheus met his Arethuse,
Call mountaine Orcades for to comply
To further with us this solemnity,
Call the thrice three sweet Aganipian Nymphs
That keeps the fancy in Heliconian lymphs
Of eloquence, and straines heroicall
To help us tune our dulcid madrigall.
Avaunt thou Styx borne sadnesse, I'le take care
Thou shalt be mist no more, the shaddow's are
I'th deep of night, when Morpheus Leaden key
Lock-mortalls under a black canopie,
Rejoyce, and Jocæan sing to me
Now Janus folding gates close boulted be,
Sicilian tyrants are returned home
Mars is appeased with a hecatombe.
The tempest's one, the Cyprian ocean's calme,
Our victors browes are crown'd with wreaths of palme.

Plaindor.
For Monuments we've hung up brused armes,
To pleasuers we've converted stern alarms
And dreadfull marches to delightfull greetings,
And harnest squadrons into merry meetings.
Grim Visag'd war hath smooth'd his brow, in stead,
Of mounting of a fiery barbed steed.
To fright pale foes, now all in a qualme
He capes in a Ladyes Amphithalme.
Bends all his nerves, and every meanes he'l prove
To the lacivious pleasing of his love.
No more the fruitfull name of Cuirassier
Shall scare our swaines, or fleet Harquebusier.
We shall dispute no more what Cavallrie
Or ammunition meane, or Infantrie
The Pouldron and Vambrace, the casque the sheare
The flankes both right and left, the front, the reere
Are Exotick words whose very sound
Shall be no more heard in Cyprian ground.
Nor ranck, nor file, lesse when we go a maying
All in a row, or when we be a playng
At Course a Parke, or telling of a tale
To the Ranck't Lasses at a Whitson ale.
I ne're shall see a sword, but such as grow
Upon a flitch of Bacon, never know
An other pike but such as daily glides
Along the softly whistling riv'lets sides
And by Meanders rushie frienged bank,
Where growes the willow greene, and Osier dank
I neere shall Loricate, or imbrace armes
But such as are Floretta's voyce of harmes.
No shield but that of sinowie brawn we'le beare
Turne thou thy blade to knives great warrier
To subdue Geese, and Capons, and carouse
Healths in thy close hilt in a frolick bouse.
To Tabers change thy drum, to kitts thy fife
Let Bagpipes and shrill Harpsicons be rife,
Come change thy trumpet and Bellona's flute
To the loud Cimballs, Violl, Harpe and Lute,
Whilst in this piping time, these Halcion dayes
We doe contest who best their Loves can praise.

Arcas.
Hark Plaindor then how I anatomize
My Julietta, and her encomionize.
Were all the goddesses compos'd in one
They would come short of her perfection.
Gray headed morne blush to see her more bright
Then th' eye of Moone, or her excelled Light.
The dangling Tramells of her curious haire
Then fine faire flax, are far more small and faire.
Those golden threds in an even order set
Entangle hearts, like fishes in a net.
Her front is the perfection of delight
The downe of Uenus doves is not so white.
What covert charmes, what latent magick lies
Within the circles of her speaking eyes.
Beames shot from heaven like to a fiery dart
Transfixt my soule, and scorcht my ravisht heart
When peerlesse beauty did her cheekes compose
Th' ingredients were the Lillie, and fresh rose.
They are like a plum which blush (the sole cause is)
'Cause Phæbus now and then doth steale a kisse.
Her straight nose, dimpled chin, incirled eares
A snowy sute, or Ivory mantle weares.
The porphier portalls of her honour'd words
A relish most mellifluous affords.
From these Jemms clad in rubie livery
I cul fresh balme to heale loves malady
Her teeth like orient pearle or ivory be
Or like the new borne blossomes on a tree.
Her thrice celestiall voyce which blesse our eares
Proclames its consanguinitie with th' spheres.
Her neck more comely then the polish't towre
Whose walles Jove skal'd in a Tagean showre
Her armes in hue heavens milkie zone surpasse
Or white Æquoreall Neptunes fomie face.
Her lovely armes are like prest curds, there stand
Ledas pale Swan immewr'd in either hand.
Now Muse returne into the milkie way
Where Cupid (in a sweat) abathing lay
About this beautious dale on either hand
Loves Alpes and Uenus Pireney mountaines stand,
With Azure curles each is inammel'd round
And with a soft red Porphier berrie crownd.
These are two Apples tane from Paradise
The graces use to sport in wanton wise
Under their shades Pomena's ripe fruit fall
From lofty trees mov'd by no wind at all.
To doe them homage, Cupid sucks from hence
His sunshine dayes and love his influence.
Greece borne and banisht love seeking to find
A domicil where he might sit inshrin'd
Parching himselfe in Juliettas eyes
Intended in her heart to signorize
But finding that too cold for's resience
He tooke his flight to my close heart from thence,
where with some firebrands, which himselfe did lay
He sing'd his wings and must for ever stay.
Her brest a feild of Lillies whiter shewing
Then those Alcinons in thy Garden growing.
Faire Erycina's Ida next to that
Or Athos stand, or Cupids Ararat.
Beneath this lies loves mediterranean
The gulfe of Venice leading to thille of Man.
To praise the Coloums of this structure, this
Adored bulke, this amorous edifice
Were a sit theame for the elaborate lines
Of ever honour'd Maro, whose worth shines
Bright in the lampe of poesie, and raise
As many trumps as men to chant his prayse.
In softnesse they the silke wormes web surpasse
Woven in leavy shop, on Loomes of grasse.
In whitenes Albian clifts, in smoothnes the
Repumicated glasse of Normandy.
Her round small feet beneath her roab doe run
Now out, now in, as if they feard the sun.

Plaindor.
Floretta has for Dioniæa power
To make each place she comes in Cupids bowre.
Nature did summon every grace to meet.
At the composure of a saint so sweet;
And with more beauties they did her invest
Then Cabalinean Poets have exprest
I'th comely Aspect of the Paphian Queene
Or more then in Corinnas face was seene.
My Love a quarrie is, or Cabinet
Where beautious nature her choyce gemmes hath set.
Her amber locks shine like the Topace bright,
Or golden Carbuncle, or Chrysolite
Her eyes at each glance rutilate and sparke
Like Diamonds in murke, tenebrous darke:
Her faire infolded eares, high front, nose, chin
Resemble the hate-spot Emerlin.
Argent and Gules in her cheekes kindly mix
As in the particolour'd Jasponix.
The orifice, or ports of her words are
In colour Corall, in worth Cinoper.
Her pearle like teeth are an even placed row
Of occidentall Margarites which grow
In her fresh Rubie gumms, her round soft brests
Where Cydias pigions fanbricate their nests
Are Alabaster circumstructures, one
Loves Ossa is, the other Pelion.
Warme azure vaines (by prudent Natures skill)
Inamell and inviron either hill,
Streames of dissolved Jazul, circling founts
Of liquid Turkise in these lovely mounts
Make many pretty Islands, which appeare
Some Ovall, some in figure of a Spheare.
Her hands those gemms of love Antimonie
Her digits nayles Arabian Oynx be.
She's a chast Emerauld, and that this list
Might perfect be, her hearts's an Amethist.
Not stubborne and obdurate, but a heart
Soone penetrated with loves wanton dart.
Nor can the buckets of our rustick quire
Quench this Asbeston flaming with Loves fire.
The harmonie of lovelinesse and grace
Combineth in the magique of her face.

Epithalamium.

[Let ruffling Eurus in Æolian jayle]

Let ruffling Eurus in Æolian jayle
Ly close confin'd without maine prise or baile.
Come Amphitrite with thy sea greene traine
Of Nymphs to trip it o're the liquid plaine,
Come Doris with thy watry band, and all
The Druid crew Chrysostomaticall.
Come Crescis, and sweet tongu'd Cymodocea,
With Zantho, and æquoriall Amothea.
With golden tressalines Dexamine
Come hand in hand both blith Cymothæ.
Through Neptunes park this Navy dance before
And usher it to Cyprus peeble shore.

DEORVM DONA

A MASQVE.

[_]

Presented before Flaminius and Clorinda, King and Queene of Cyprus at their Regall Palace in Nicosia.

GENIVS.
When Jove, and nature metamorphosed
The undigested lump, (which was the bed
Of indisposed confusion) a rude load
Where scuffling seedes of things misplac't aboad.
Where springs, ponds, lakes immense and hewtes curl'd
Were with things hot, dry, humid, frigid hurld.
So when the game is playd, the Chessmen be
Though dignified with names of majestie,
Though God-like Kings, or reverend Bishops they,
Or honourable Lords be call'd i'th play,
Or Knights errand or worthies of the growne,
They're altogether into one bag throwne.
But to our taske, when out of this dull masse
By heavenly Alchymie extracted was
A world well orderd, and methodicall,
The fire and thin aire were highest place't
The solid selfe clog'd earth did lowest fall
And was by the vast Ocean imbrac't,
In whose larg precincts many sea-girt lands
And Islands fenced by salt water stands,
Which Amphitrite with her cripst locks hem
So various jemmes inlay a diadem,
Neptune his tributary gods that graces
Gives them the government of these small places,
And let them weare their saphrie crownes, and weild
Their little tridents in their watry feild;
But this faire Isle which of its selfe affordes
Matter to build an Ocean furrowing ship
From the top gallant to the keeles low bottom,
And furnish it with tackling, and munition
Without the help of exotick addition.
Unto his blew hair'd dieties he quarters,
And he himselfe with a brave flying guard
Of winged coursers, her ingarison.
Then her indulgent guardian provided
A ruler worthy of so rare an Isle,
But Jove observing his just government
Tooke him to his Olympus there to be
His colleague, vicegerent, deputy,
His life we lov'd, and wisht, but he expir'd
Your hapinesse is of our hearts desir'd.
And you the orbe where power, and beauty move
Faire Queen of Amathusia, and love,
Each Subject hath erected on his heart
A vestall flaming Altar, to offer up
A thankfull sacrifice for your arivall,
At this white houre, t'inclose so faire a guest
Our Land waxt proud, and I the Genius
Am by so great a presence weakt, and glory
To bid you welcome in your subjects names,
Whose hearts dance in their eyes for joy of you,
Their pulses all beat musique, and their blood
Beat in their blew-rooft channells a soft measure,
Even as the radiant Olympick cole
Whose heate thawes annually the icy pole,
By his coruscant beames correct the sight,
Of mortalls eyes that dare gaze on light,
Even so you move in so sublime a spheare
With awfull reverence, and regall feare,
Majestick Queen, your sacred majestie
Fires kindled by your eyes doe qualifie,
For you (Adored Cypria) had been
The whole worlds Mistris, if no Cyprian Queen.
Phœbus and Cynthia of our hemispheare,
Father, and Mother, of our fertile Ile,
May your admired court, and raigne become
The pattern for all Princes imitation
And be the coppy Kings strive to write after,
Heaven crowne my wish, whilst earth concur to sing
Kind fortune fan you with a courteous wing.

Enter Fortune conducting fame and vertue.
Fortune.
Translucent twins of Love, and majestie
I that of things ad libitum dispose,
And this man elevate, and that depose,
I that advanced Servus Tullius
That tumbling came into the spacious world,
A vassell cadit or cosmopolite.
Even to the Apex of all mundan honour,
I that cast Mustapha the Ideot
From th' Ottoman throne, & sealed Osman there
And dandled him in my lubricious armes,
Till weary of my dalliance I threw him downe,
Invested Mustaph in his pristine state,
Reducing Osman to such penurie
He beggd a draught of water at a fount,
Then out of cruell pitty I commanded
An obscure Ianizary to dispatch him,
I, that made Arlots Illegitimate son
To sway the scepter of rich Albion,
I have depos'd my variablenesse
And sworne alleagence to faire constancie,
I'le never interrupt your happines
By any churlish or disasterous frowne,
Which oath is as irrivocable as
The strickt law of the Meedes and Persians was,
About your palaces the yellow streames
Of Tagus, Isberus, and Pactolus,
Shall run & meet there with the Indian Ganges.
Little petty homagers all stubborne Princes
Shall prostrate their shining scepters at
Your most majestick feet and gredily
Shall glory in your royall servitude,
Crowns pil'd on crownes shall pave your happy paths,
And Captive Kings wait on your chariot.
And erect statues to your memoryes
Which shall survive Egyptian Pyramids,
And last when Hyems hath frozen up the world,
And when old palsie time shall droop, and halt
Being ore worne, and moatheaten with yeares.
Your joyes still bud, and grow, and gemminate
And not be capiable to terminate.

Fame.
Before Joves spangled portalls (with a crew
Of bright aeriall soules) I dwell insphear'd
Chanting the conquests of the son's of valour
And magnifying their great names, which last
Unbitten by the canker worme of time,
I neere can take a trump to carroll forth,
Some royall Potentates heroick name,
But Mars still rounds me in the eare, and sayes,
Fame sing Flaminius worth, whose mighty facts
Hath made the world a register of's acts,
Whose manly heart propitious Jove doth blesse
With haughty spirit, that spirit with successe,
Victorious successe with lasting glory
Which glory makes his martiall feates a story,
Whose spreading fame with gray hair'd time shall vie
And be companion of eternity.
When I would blaze a beauty Uenus comes
And with her fatall magick charmes me thus,
Harke thou repositor of comelinesse,
From Albions Isle where silver Thames dos dally
With the even bosome of the spungie sands
And often wash the fructifying sides
Of her beloved bankes, with wanton tides,
I have transplanted to my Cyprian Isle
Clorinda, from whose fair sun bright eyes
Issue such sparkling heart surprising rayes,
As proclaime her the wonder of her dayes,
Her brow excell's the Rodopeian snow,
Her silken haire which in curld ringlets grow
Might make so many strings for Cupids bow.
Her eyes can make a stubborne souldier melt
Although his heart be hearder then his sheild,
Each smile of hers hath a magnetick force
To attract soules, her Angells voyce can charme
A Satyre rude, and rock his wanton soule
Into Elizian slumbers, let her be
Genophilus the subject of thy song.
Erect a temple to her honoured name
The Virgin quire shall make it their devotion
To pay her gratefull Pæans, and to crowne
With ever springing garlands her faire statue;
I have descended through the silver orbes
To satisfie these dieties, I've tame
A thrill resounding trumpet, new, and clean,
Lest it it should taint my breath, whilst I blaze forth
Your names which as in deep graven characters
Shall last for times immortall processe sure,
Whilst Phœbus, Phæbe, and nights fry indure.

Uertue.
Bright ornaments of the heaven covered world
To whom the far fam'd Cyprian nation bow
I'ts most obsequious, and willing knees,
On whose illustrious fronts the regall crowne
Imprint no rigorous, and austere frownes
Your subjects hopes of joy to batter downe.
But whose auspicious, and calmer eyes
Pronounceth omens of ensueing joy,
And defuse hopes of safety to their hearts,
Which pious reverence doth thaw to streames
Flowing ith' current of obedience.
Your Raigne's become a lecture of pietie
Which transfuse through your court an admiration,
And Zealous ardour of its imitation,
Nay the high towring flames doe penetrate
The dapled skie, and make Gods emulate,
Jove envy your rare vertues (Potent Prince)
And Juno (Mighty Queen) your share of graces,
Which make you so resplendent in all places.
Now the musick sounded and fortune, fame, and vertue, danced to its measures, Corantoes, Durettoes, Moriscoes, Galliards, and sung thus,

Fortune.

Fame.

Uertue.

Fortune.

Uertue.

Fame.

Exeunt.
The Scene was transformed to that part of the Sea, that wastes the Cyprian shore, on the one hand were erected two pedestalls, whereon Captaines lay chained, on the other hand a woman in a sea green drapery heightned with silver, on her head a corona rostrata, with one hand holding the rudder of a ship, with the other a little winged figure with a branch of palme, and a garland, this woman denoted navall victory.
When the soft musick sounded, Neptune and a chorus of Marine Nymphs ascended, with a sea triumphe of children riding on sea horses, and young Tritons, with their writhen trumpets, they all sung this ditty.
Exeunt.
The Scene changed to a magnificent palace, adorned with al manner of diliciousnesse, Comas appeared & said.
Come lets dispeople all foure elements,
And when we've ran through all the register
Of past delights, lets set and study new ones,
Darke vail'd Cotytto stay thy ebon chaire
Wherein thou triumphest with Herate
And let not nice mourne on the Indian steep
Peep from her cabin'd loop hole, let no cock
His matins ring, till pomp, and revellry
Have tane their fills, with masque, and pagentry.
Let midnight see our feast and jollity
And weare a blacker maske, as envious
Of our dance, jocond rebecks, and wreathed smiles.
Now Tellus is arrayd in fresh attire
And prickt, and dect with Flora's tapestrie,
And each groves Quiristers doe warble anthems
And all to grace this nights solemnity.
Now that blith youth upon whose clusterd locks
A wreath of ivy berries set, have crusht
From purple grapes a most Nectarian juce
That mortalls may with freedome entertaine
Blith joy, and debonair mirth, which againe
At this good time to visit mortalls daigne.
Musick whose lofty tones grace Princes crown'd
Unto this novall coronation sound.
Fame with a blast as love as ratling thunder.
Proclaime this pompous frolick holy day,
That Jeve may know of our quips, and cranks
And to beare part in our smooth ditty'd pranks
Leave valted heaven, and his skie Roabes put off
And pure ambrosial weeds of Iris woof,
Attended by Coruscant constellations
Who to present shall make it their next taske
Before your Maiesties an nother masque.