 | A Private Entertainment of the King and Qveene, on May-day in the Morning At Sir William Cornvvalleis his house, at High-gate. 1604 |  |
Penates.
1.
Ioy is now the fittest passion;
Double maiestie hath blest
All the place, with that high grace,
Exceedeth admiration!
2.
Europes enuie, and her merror;
Great in each part of thy stile:
Englands wish, and Scotlands blisse,
Both France, and Irelands terror.
1.
Your admired queene: the glory
Both of state, and comelinesse.
Euery line of her diuine
Forme, is a beautious storie.
2.
So are both; and blood renowned
By oft falls, that make a flood
In your veines: yet, all these streines
Are in your vertues drowned.
1.
These two, onely, are the wonder:
In them shee's rich, and in no more.
Zeale is bound their prayse to sound
As loud as fame, or thunder.
Concurre in their deuotions;
Payres of Turtles sit, and sing
On each tree, ore-ioy'd to see
In them like loue, like motions.
1.
Whose glad lord nought could haue blessed
Equally; (I'am sure not more)
Then this sight: saue of your right,
When you were first possessed.
2.
Since which houre, wherein you gayn'd it.
For this grace, both he and his,
Euery day, haue learn'd to pray,
And, now, they haue obtayn'd it.
Here the Penates lead them in, through the house, into the garden, where Mercvry, with a second speech, receiued them, walking before them.
Mer.
Retyre, you houshold-gods, and leaue these excellent creatures
to be entertayned by a more eminent deitie. Hayle King, and Queen of
the Islands, call'd truely fortunate, and by you made so; To tell you, who
I am, and weare all these notable, and speaking ensignes about me, were
to challenge you of most impossible ignorance, and accuse my selfe of as
palpable glorie: It is inough that you know me here, and come with the
licence of my father Iove, who is the bountie of heauen, to giue you
early welcome to the bower of my mother Maia, no lesse the goodnesse
of earth. And may it please you to walke, I will tell you no wonderfull
storie. This place, whereon you are now aduanced (by the mightie power
of Poetrie, and the helpe of a faith, that can remoue mountaynes) is the
Arcadian hill Cyllene, the place, where my selfe was both begot, and
borne; and of which I am frequently call'd Cyllenivs: Vnder yond
purslane tree stood sometime my cradle. Where, now, behold my mother
Maia, sitting in the pride of her plentie, gladding the aire with her
breath, and cheering the spring with her smiles. At her feet, the blushing
Avrora, who, with her rosie hand, casteth her honie dewes on those
sweeter herbs, accompanied with that gentle winde, Favonivs, whose
subtile spirit, in the breathing forth, Flora makes into flowers, and sticks
them in the grasse, as if shee contended to haue the imbroyderie of the
delicate May keepes state; and from this Mount, takes pleasure to display
these valleyes, yon'd lesser hills, those statelier edifices, and towers,
that seeme enamour'd so farre off, and are rear'd on end, to behold her, as
if their vtmost obiect were her beauties. Hither the Dryads of the valley,
and Nymphs of the great riuer come euery morning, to taste of her fauors;
and depart away with laps fill'd with her bounties. But, see! vpon your
approch their pleasures are instantly remitted. The birds are hush'd, Zephyre
is still, the Morne forbeares her office, Flora is dumbe, and
herselfe amazed, to behold two such maruailes, that doe more adorne
place, then shee can time; Pardon, your Maiestie, the fault, for it is that
hath caus'd it; and till they can collect their spirits, thinke silence, and
wonder the best adoration.
Here, Avrora, Zephyrvs, and Flora, began this song in three parts.
Song.
The master of the Ocean;
And his beautious Orian:
Why left we off our playing?
To gaze, to gaze,
On them, that gods no lesse then men amaze.
Vp Nightingale, and sing
Iug, jug, jug, jug, &c.
Raise Larke thy note, and wing,
All birds their musique bring,
Sweet Robin, Linet, Thrush,
Record, from euery bush,
The welcome of the King;
And Queene:
Whose like were neuer seene,
For good, for faire.
Nor can be; though fresh May,
Should euery day
Inuite a seuerall paire,
No, though shee should inuite a seuerall paire.
Mai.
Of eu'ry flower, in euery field,
Were into one broad mazor fild;
If, thereto, added all the gummes,
And spice, that from Panchaia comes,
The odour, that hydaspes lends
Or Phœnix proues, before she ends;
If all the Ayre, my Flora drew,
Or spirit, that Zephyre euer blew;
Were put therein; and and all the dew
That euer rosy Morning knew;
Yet, all diffus'd vpon this bower,
To make one sweet detayning houre,
Were much too little for the grace,
And honor, you vouchsafe the place.
But, if you please to come againe,
We vow, we will not then, with vaine,
And empty passe-times entertayne,
Your so desir'd, though grieued payne.
For, we will haue the wanton fawnes,
That frisking skip, about the lawnes,
The Paniskes, and the Siluanes rude,
Satyres, and all that multitude,
To daunce their wilder rounds about,
And cleaue the ayre, with many a shout,
As they would hunt poore Echo out
Of yonder valley, who doth flout
Their rusticke noyse. To visite whome
You shall behold whole beuies come
Of gaudy Nymphes, who tender calls
Well tun'd (vnto the many falls
Of sweete, and seuerall sliding rills,
That streame from tops of those lesse hills)
Sound like so many siluer quills
When Zephyre them with musique fills.
For these, Favonivs here shall blow
New flowers, which you shall see to grow,
Of which, each hand a part shall take,
And, for your heads, fresh garlands make.
Wherewith, whilst they your temples round,
An ayre of seuerall birds shall sound
An Iöpæan, that shall drowne
The acclamations, at your crowne.
May vowes, so you will oft come here a Maying.
And Mercvry, her sonne, shall venture the displeasure of
his father, with the whole bench of Heauen, that day, but he will doe his
mothers intents all seruiceable assistance. Till then, and euer, liue high and
happy, you, and your other you; both enuied for your fortunes, lou'd for
your graces, and admired for your vertues.
This was the mornings entertaynments; after dinner, the King, and Queene comming againe into the garden, Mercvry the second time accosted them.
Mer.
Againe, great payre, I salute you; and with leaue of all the gods:
whose high pleasure it is, that Mercvry make this your holy-day.
May all the blessings both of earth, and heauen, concurre to thanke you:
For till this dayes sunne, I haue faintly inioy'd a minutes rest to my creation.
Now, I do, and acknowledge it you sole, and no lesse the diuine benefit.
If my desire to delight you, might not diuert to your trouble, I would
intreat your eyes to a new, and strange spectacle; a certaine sonne of mine,
whom the Arcadians call a god, howsoeuer the rest of the world receiue
him: It is the horned Pan, whom in the translated figure of a goate I begot
on the faire Spartan
Penelope; May, let both your eares, and
lookes forgiue it: These are but the lightest escapes of our Deities. And,
it is better in me, to preuent his rusticke impudence, by my blushing acknowledgement,
then, anon, by his rude, and not insolent clayme, be enforced
to confesse him. Yonder hee keepes, and with him the wood
Nymphes, whose leader he is in rounds, and daunces, to this Syluane musique.
The place, about which they skip, is the fount of laughter, or
Bacchvs spring; whose statue is aduanced on the top; and from whose
pipes, at an obseru'd howre of the day, there flowes a lustie liquor, that
hath the present vertue to expell sadnesse; and within certaine minutes
after it is tasted, force all the myrth of the spleene into the face. Of this
is Pan the Guardian. Loe! the fountain begins to run, but the Nymphes
at your sight are fled. Pan, and his Satyres wildly stand at gaze. I will
approach, and question him: vouchsafe your care, and forgiue his behauiour,
which (euen to me, that am his parent) will no doubt be rude
ynough, though otherwise full of salt, which, except my presence did
temper, might turne to be gall, and bitternesse; but that shall charme him.
Pan.
O, it is Mercvry! Hollow 'hem, agen,
What be all these, father? gods, or men?
Mer.
All humane. Onely, these two are deities on earth, but such, as
the greatest powers of heauen may resigne to.
Pan.
Why did our Nymphes run away? can you tell?
Here be sweet beauties loue Mercvry well?
I see by their lookes. How say you? great master?
Will you please to heere? Shall I be your taster?
Pan, you are too rude.
Pan.
By my beard, and my hornes, tis a health, and shall passe.
Were he a king, and his mistresse a queene
This draught shall make him a petulant spleene.
But, trow, is he loose, or costiue of laughter?
I'ld know, to fill him his glasse, thereafter,
Sure, either my skill, or my sight doth mock,
Or this lordings looke should not care for the smock;
And yet he should loue both a horse and a hound,
And not rest till he saw his game on the ground:
Well, looke to him, Dame; beshrow me were I
'Mongst these bonny-bells, you should need a good eye.
Here mistresse; all out. Since a god is your skinker:
By my hand, I beleeue you were borne a good drinker.
They are things of no spirit, their blood is asleepe,
That, when it is offred 'hem do not drinke deepe.
Ladies, I'am sure, you all ha' not fooles
At home to laugh at. A little of this,
Tane downe here in priuate, were not amisse.
Beleeue it, she drinkes like a wench, that had store
Of lord for her laughter, will you haue more?
Laugh, and be fat, sir, your penance is knowne.
They that loue mirth, let 'hem heartily drinke,
'Tis the only receipt, to make sorrow sinke.
Let her laugh him away, as fast as he can.
But laugh at the wench, that next doth trust you.
E're you sit out, yow'le laugh at a fether.
You sip, so like a forsooth of the citie.
The ladies, ifaith, else will laugh you downe.
Yow'le steale forth a laugh in the shade of your fan.
Will breed a laughter, as low was your belly
They must be tickled, before they will any.
Gallants, of both sides, you see here is all.
Only, good faces, I reed you, make store
Of your amorous Knights, and Squiers hereafter,
They are excellent sponges, to drinke vp your laughter.
Farewell, I must seeke out my Nymphs, that you frighted;
Thanke Hermes, my father, if ought'haue delighted.
Mer.
I am sure, thy last rudenesse cannot; for it makes me seriously
asham'd. I will not labor his excuse, since I know you more readie to pardon,
then he to trespasse: but, for your singular patience, tender you all
aboundance of thankes; and, mixing with the Master of the place, in his
wishes, make them my diuinations: That your loues be euer flourishing
as May, and your house as fruitfull: That your acts exceed the best, and
your yeares the longest of your predecessors: That no bad fortune touch
you, nor good change you. But still, that you triumph, in this facilitie, ouer
the ridiculous pride of other Princes; and for euer liue safe in the loue, rather,
then the feare of your subiects.
| A Private Entertainment of the King and Qveene, on May-day in the Morning At Sir William Cornvvalleis his house, at High-gate. 1604 | |