 | Loves Mistresse : or The Queenes Masque |  |
Act. V.
Scene. I.
Enter Pluto, Proserpine, Minos, Eacus, Rhadamant Charon, Cerberus and Mercury.Plu.
Faire Mayas Sonne, declare your embassie?
Mer.
Wheate-crowned Ceres, harvest Soveraine,
And Mother to the faire Proserpine,
Sends greeting to her Sonne, hells awfull King,
Letting him know, this day Latonas Sonne
Enters the first house of his Zodiake,
And with his guilt beames welcomes in the Spring;
This day the Virgins of Sicilia,
Old wives, young Children, Souldiers, Citizens,
Princes and Prelates, on Cissephus bankes,
Are gathered in well-order'd multitudes,
Dancing in Chorusses, singing mirth-full layes,
Such as Iambe Megamiraes maid,
Sung, when she mourn'd her Daughters ravishment:
This day hath Ceres call'd a Sessions,
Where Proserpine must bee; but ere shee leave
The black Imperiall Throne of this low world,
Psiche the Daughter to th'Arcadian King,
Must doe a message to her deitie.
Pro.
Wee know th'Intent of that great influence,
With all the purpose of the Paphian Queene,
Shee meanes prowd Esiche never shall returne,
And wee will keep her; Cbaron fetch her ore.
Cha.
Shee's come already.
Mino.
Then conduct her in.
Cha.
Hell's full enough of shrewes; if shee be faire,
I know shee's curst, pray let her tarry there,
A curst queanes tongue, the very feinds still feare.
Fetch her I say, Venus shall be reveng'd.
Eac.
Go Charon, wait upon him Cerberus.
Mino.
If she performe the customes of our Court,
Being sent on message from supernall powers,
We can then with no justice keep her here.
Rha.
True Minos, 'tis the law of hell and Fate;
Yet Cerberus and Charon, get you gone,
Tell Psiche that hells king, and Proserpine,
With Minos bench'd, Eachus and Radamant,
Vpon their black tribunalls, sends for her;
You Furies with your envious eyes attend,
Lest Psiche 'gainst our customes shall offend.
Cha.
Come Cerberus, come haggs, fetch Psiche in.
Cer.
Yes, and for all her staynes and leprosie,
Me-thinks I now could eat her.
Exit.
Mer.
Psiche is well instructed Rhadamant,
Her husband Cupid gave her certaine rules,
For her uncertaine journey.
Enter Charon, Cerberus, and Psiche.
All.
Here she comes.
Cer.
My sopp, hast thou thy naulum Ferry-man?
Cha.
I have.
Plu.
Psiche stand forth, nay poor soul, tremble not.
Minos.
How came this woman over Acheron?
Reach'd she not hand to helpe Oblivion?
Cha.
No, yet the wretch made a pitious cry,
Yet she look'd on him with a scornefull eye.
Eac.
How did she passe the haggs, that spunne the threds
Of Idle-folly, in the path of hell?
Cha.
They all desir'd her helpe, but she deny'd
To set a finger unto follies thred.
Plu.
She hath done well, why kneel'st thou on the ground?
Psi.
I kneel to Proserpine, for I am sent
By sacred Venus for a boxe of beauty.
Pros.
Faire Psiche, you shall have what you desire,
Rise up, sit downe by us, 'tis much unfit,
Psi.
Psiche is Cupids out-cast, and his scorne,
And therefore sits thus low, and thus forlorne.
Plu.
Oh thou belov'd of Loue, be not so sad;
Furnish a Banquet, let our cousen taste
The delicates that grow in these darke groves.
Pros.
Art thou not faint?
A Banquet set forth.
Psi.
Yes, wonderous faint and weary,
Faint through the want of food, weary with toyle
Of my un-number'd steps, faint through the terror
That on each side affrights me, faint and weary
With bearing this poor burthen in my wombe;
Cupid, thy words are true, thou didst fore-tell,
My pride on earth, should worke my plagues in hell.
Plu.
Refresh thy selfe then, taste our delicates.
Psi.
I dare not touch them.
Rha.
Thou hast a sop, eat that.
Psi.
It is not mine,
It is your Porters fee.
Cer.
Give it me then.
Psi.
Anon I will, at my returne from hence;
In the mean time, sacred Proserpina,
By all the teares your grieved mother shed,
When you were stole from Pismaes flowry banke,
Let Psiche be dispatched to Cipria,
Lest the incensed goddesse do some wrong
To her poor servant, if she stay too long.
Plu.
Will she not sit? scornes she to take our food?
Give her some wine.
Cha.
Here girle, drinke to hells King.
Psi.
Give me cold water from the murmuring spring?
Plu.
I am soul-vext, that any mortall eye
Should see our Customes, and returne alive,
To blab them to the wide eare of the world:
But Proserpine, having perform'd all rights,
We must not here detaine her; send her hence.
Pros.
My envy equalls yours, but all in vaine;
Wherein Cælestiall beauty is inclos'd.
But on thy life, dare not to look into't,
As thou respect'st thy safety.
Psi.
I receive it,
And humbly begging to dread Plutoes Queen,
Intreat to be dismiss'd this fearfull Court.
Plu.
Charon, convey her back.
Cha.
My Ferry-money.
Cer.
My sopp.
Psi.
Both's here.
Exit. Cha. and Cer. with Psiche.
Plu.
Psiche is worthy to be Pupids wife,
And Proserpine, remember her to Venus,
Make intercession that the Queen of Love
No longer prove th'ungentle step-mother.
Mer.
Pluto, when Psiche hath perform'd her taske,
My sister will no doubt be reconcil'd;
Cupid presented a petition
To Jove, and all the Senate of the gods,
To take from her, her base deformity,
The gods agreed, and Venus too was pleas'd
At her returne from hell it should be done.
Plut.
Here Hermes, take my Queen Proserpina,
Returne her when the sister of the Sun
Hath sixe times compassed her silver spheare;
Commend me to my mother, great Joves wife,
My sister Pallas, and to all the gods,
So fare-well Plutoes joy, all hell shall mourne
With hiddeous cries till my faire love returne.
Exeunt.
Hiddeous Musicke.
Enter Cupid.
Cup.
Many a long look have my watchfull eyes,
Sent out to meet with Psiche, here she comes,
Enter Psiche.
And in her hand the boxe, Cupid stand close,
And over-heare the summe of her discourse.
Enter Clowne.
Clo.
This is she, I know her by her marter'd face; Venus did
I have dogg'd her, to see if I could find her at any advantage,
to steal away her boxe; I have already got love from Cupid; I
have got Poetry from Apollo, and if I could now get beauty
from Psiche, Phaou the fair Ferry-man, was never so famous
in Sicillia, as I Coridon shall be in Arcadia.
Psi.
You trayterous thoughts, no more assault me thus,
My lovely Cupid charg'd me not to see
What Proserpine sent Venus in this boxe,
The like command did hells Queen lay on me,
Oh heaven, yet I shall die except I do't.
Cup.
I Psiche, what still in your longing vaine?
Clo.
That's it, nay I shall know't, if I see't againe,
Psi.
It's beauty Psiche, and Cælestiall,
And thou art ugly, this will make thee shine,
And change this earthly forme to shape divine;
Open it boldly, but I shall offend,
Why say I do, 'tis but the breach of duty,
And who'll not venture to get heavenly beauty,
Rich beauty, ever fresh, never decaying,
Which lies entombed in this heavenly shrine;
Nor in this bold attempt thinke me prophane,
Striving thus spotted, to be free from staine.
She opens the boxe and fals asleep.
Clo.
Nay I thought I should take you napping,
And thou shalt go with me; for 'tis my duty,
My Mistris being a blowse, to find her beauty,
Cupid charmes him asleep
Cup.
To make thee lovely in thy Mistris eyes,
Make use of that, and boast of thy rich prize.
Cupid layes a counterfeit Boxe by him.
But foolish girle; alas why blame I thee,
When all thy Sex is guilty of like pride,
And ever was? but where's this beauty now?
Turn'd into slumbers, and like watery pearles
Of honey-tasting dew hangs on these lids:
She wakes againe: I have swept off the slumber
Which once clos'd in, the light of all true lovers.
Psi.
Where am I now? dread Cupid pardon me.
Cup.
Come rise, and wipe away these fruitlesse teares;
Take up the boxe, and hie thee to my Mother?
Psi.
She'll kill me for the beauty I have lost.
Cup.
Tush foole, I gather'd it from thy clos'd eyes,
Where in the shape of slumber it did rest;
Be comforted, Cupids white hand shall cleere
This black deformity, and thou shalt ride
In Venus Charriot, and be deified;
I thought to chide too bad, but 'twill not be,
True Love can but a while look bitterly:
Awake thou too, the treasure there inclos'd,
Rifle at will, but see it well dispos'd.
Exit.
Clow.
Where am I, nay where is she; I no sooner cast mine
eye upon the boxe, to say here 'tis, but I was asleep before a
man could say, what's this; what's this said I: reioyce all mortalls
that weare smocks, for I have found rich beauties boxe: I
was before but a man made, but I am now a very made man;
and when 'tis known I am possess'd of this rich treasure, both
Yong and Old, Short and Tall, Tagg and Ragg, Witch and
Hagg, Crone and Bedlam, who though they come abroad
but seldome 'will crawle upon crutches to find out me; But
come as many as will, and as fast as can, by their favours, my
Amarellis shall be first serv'd: and yet not first neither, am
I in possession my selfe, and shall not I be the white boy of
Arcadia: Adonis is dead, and shall not I be Venus sweetheart.
Come boxe of beauty, and for white and red,
Put down Ioves Page, the smooth-fac'd Ganimed;
Dawb on, dawbe on, as thick as thou canst lay on,
Till thou exceed the Ferry-man call'd Phæon;
Cupid compar'd with me, shall be a toy,
And look but like the signe of the black boy;
My face shail shine just as my hand disposes,
In one cheek I'le plant Lillies, in t'other Roses,
Say, there, there goes the fair-fac'd Coridon.
Enter Swaines.
1 Swa.
Where is Coridon Hymen stayes, and Amarillis attends,
the Bride is ready, but no Bride-groom to be found?
Clo.
I do not thinke the Clowns will know me when they
see me, Colin, Dickon, Hobinall, and how is't, how is't?
2 Swa.
Ha ha ha, very scurvily me-thinks, is this Coridon?
Clo.
Nay, if my face in Swaines breed such delight,
What will the Nimphs do when they come in sight.
3 Sw.
Oh monstrous Coridon! how cam'st thou thus chang'd?
Clo.
Chang'd, I hope so; I have not travell'd thus farre for
nothing; speak you mortalls, doth not my brow relent? shines
not my nose? springs not here a Lilly, there a Rose.
2 Swa.
A Rose, a Lilly? a Blew-bottle, and a canker-flower,
what is that upon thy face?
Clow.
Beauty boyes, beauty.
2 Swa.
Beauty dost call it, I prethee from whence came it?
Clo.
Marry from hell.
2 Swa.
From hell, I beleeve it, for it hath made thee look
like a devill already.
Clo.
Go shear your sheep, make money of your wooll,
Sell all your Lambes, and make your purses full,
And then, if on the price we can agree,
I'le fit you all and make you look like me:
2 Swa.
Like thee, Ide rather see thee hang'd; dost thou
thinke we mean to wear Vizors?
Clo.
This 'tis to be meer mortalls, and have no addition of
learning or travell; their dull eyes cannot judge of Cælestiall
beauty: but where's my Amarillis, and the god of marriage
Hymen?
1 Swa.
They both stay for thee in Venus Temple; but I
hope thou wilt not be married to her in this pickle?
Clo.
Will I not, yes, and dazell all their eyes that shall look
on me, especially my Amarillis, and she must needs have
some part of my thfet, all is not gone, somthing for her is left:
And thus in pompe will we go meet with Hymen:
And Dicken if anon thou wilt be sinfull
To drinke with me, I will give thee thy skinfull:
If there be any here, I speak it out of duty,
Desire any Complection from my boxe of beauty,
This night I am busie, let him come to morrow,
They shall have store, if they will buy or borrow.
Exeunt.
Enter Phœbus, Pan, Vulcan, Venus, Admetus Astioche, Petrea, Menetius, and Zelotes.
Ven.
By this I know, that Minks is come from hell,
And here she harbours; but Arcadian King,
Deliver her, or by our dreadfull frowne,
I'le spoyle thy Courts, and cast thy Temples downe;
Conceal her longer, not the god intreats
Shall guard her from the death, my rage intends.
Ad.
Dread Queen of Paphos, she remaines not here,
Nor thinke that I abet her, though my child,
Against your wrath, or power; Nay, did she sojourne
In any place where I have free command,
Ide cause her to be fetch't thence instantly,
Aand as your slave and vassall tender her.
Ven.
If she be safe return'd from Proserpine,
She must be pardon'd, and become divine;
But to conceale her being, and keep backe
The present sent, keeps but her future wrack.
Apod.
If ever in faire Venus I had power,
Or grac'd her summer pastimes with my beames,
At length with a commisserating eye,
Look on distressed Psiche.
Vul.
Do good wife,
Vse her with all the favour thou can'st thinke,
Conive at her, as I at thy faults winke.
Pan.
And Pan protests by Cannaes nut-browne haire,
The fairest Nimph, since Sirnix I ere saw,
And I with them make this a holy-day.
Enter Mercury and Proserpine
Mer.
To all these gods, to Venus and this traine,
Health from the Son of Saturne, and Queen Ceres.
Ven.
Welcome, what would the messenger of Jove
To us, or these?
Mer.
Pan, Vulcan, and your selfe,
With Phœbus, and the great Arcadian King,
Must be this day at Ceres sowing-fast,
Vnto which Annuall meeting, see faire Proserpine
Is come from Plutoes Court.
Ven.
Welcome faire Queen.
Apol.
Welcome faire sister from the vaults below,
We two are Twins, of faire Latona borne,
And were together nurst in Delos Ile;
You guide the night, as I direct the day,
Darknesse and light betwixt us we divide,
Nor square, but in our mutuall Orbes agree,
Vnlesse you move just 'twixt the earth and me,
For then you eclipse my lusture.
Vul.
Cousen Queen,
I am even moon-sicke, and halfe merry mad,
For joy of thy arivall.
Pan.
By our Crests
We should be cousens, for we both are horn'd,
And Vulcan of our kin too; but sweet goddesse,
Now I bethinke me of th'Arcadian Nimphes,
I am bound to thee for many a pretty sight,
And much good sport I have had by thy moon-light.
Pros.
To give you meeting, I am come from hell.
Ven.
Saw you not Psiche there?
Pros.
Loves Queen I did,
Hither she comes with Cupid, hand in hand,
Her leprousie, through labour, is made cleare,
And beauteous in your eye, she'll now appeare,
Cup.
Cælestiall Sea-borne Queen, I here present you
My Psiche, who hath satisfi'd your will:
Deliver her, faire Love, from Proserpine,
The boxe of beauty, endlesse, and devine.
Psi.
Guided by Love, Lord of my life and hope,
I come undaunted to your gracious sight,
Hoping my sufferance hath out-worne his wrath?
Ven.
She hath scap'd hell, and now the taske is done,
And I still crost by a disobedient Son;
But tell me how this Leoper came thus faire?
Cup.
At my entreat it was,
'Mongst all the gods I claym'd her for my Wife,
Who taking a joynt pity of her wrongs:
Gave their consent, and then great Iove himselfe
Call'd for a cup of Immortality,
Dranke part to her, and Psiche quaff't the rest,
At which, deformity forsook her quite,
And she made faire, and then proclaim'd my bride,
Iove vowing, she should now be deifi'ed.
Ven.
I see I cannot conquer Destiny,
By Fate she first was thine, I give her thee.
Mer.
Now Psiche, you must see your sisters judg'd,
Vnstaid Petrea, and unkind Astioche,
Admetus, you must be their sentencer.
Asti.
Husband, your knees.
Petr.
My dear lord plead for us.
Asti.
Will neither; yet Father.
Ad.
Wretches peace.
Psiche by you was torne from her delight,
And rudely rent from Cupids Paradice;
'Twas you that robb'd her of a fathers love;
By your alurements she was sent to hell,
And had not divine aid secur'd her thence,
Poor soule for ever sh'had bin there detain'd,
For which, to endlesse durance I adjure you;
To hearts impenitent and wilfull hard.
Psi.
Have pity on them Father, gentle husband,
Remember not their fraw'd in tempting me:
You gods and goddesses with Psiche ioyne,
To beg their pardons, all you Arcadians kneele;
For had they not my happinesse envy'd,
My Love and patience had not so bin try'd.
All.
We all will mediate for them.
Ad.
Then Daughters, give your sister Psiche thanks,
And to her vertues be a servant still,
Which makes atonement for your ill.
Both.
We'll henceforth be her hand-maids.
Ven.
They shall attend her unto plenties bower,
Where Ceres, Queen of Fertility,
Invites us with the other gods to feast.
Mer.
There Iove and Phœbus shall lead Cupids Queen,
To the bright pallace of Eternity;
Bacchus shall give us Wine, and Ganimed
Shall crowne our full cups with the grapes pure blood;
Ceres shall yeeld us all earths delicates,
The Graces shall bring Balme, the Muses sing
In Cupids honour, Loves Immortall King.
Vul.
Vulcan will dance, and sing, and skip, and quaffe,
And with his smoaky jests make Cupid laugh.
Cup.
Such as love me, make me their president,
See, thus I take faire Psiche by the hand,
Mercury do you the like to Proserpine,
My Mother Venus cannot want a mate;
In honour of our marriage, match your selves,
And with a measure grace our nuptialls,
But such as do not love to be in motion,
View as spectators, how our joy appeares,
Dancing to the sweet musick of the spheares.
A Dance of Cupid, Psiche, the gods and goddesses.
Apol.
Now circle Psiche in a fayry ring,
This done, to feast with Ceres, and the gods,
And next unto the pallace of the Sun,
To end those sacred rites we have begun.
Enter Midas and Apuleius.
Mi.
Is this your morrall? This your Poetry?
What hast thou done, what spoke, what presented,
Which I with all these cannot justly taxe?
Ap.
Yes, all like thee th'obtuse and stupid mindes,
But there's an understanding that hath depth
Beyond thy shallow non-sence; there's a wit,
A braine which thou want'st, I to that submit.
Mi.
And even in that thou fool'st thy selfe.
Cup.
Nay then,
I by the favour of these Gentlemen,
Will arbitrate this strife; one seeks to advance
His Art, the other stands for ignorance;
Both hope, and both shall have their merits full,
Here's meed for either, both the apt, and dull,
Pleas'd or displeas'd, this censure I allow;
Keep thou the Asses cares, the Lawrell thou:
If you, judicious, this my doom commend,
Psiche by you shall doubly Crown'd ascend;
And then this Legacy I leave behind,
Where ere you love, prove of one faith, one mind.
The Spring comes on, and Cupid doth devine,
Each shall enjoy his best lov'd Valentine,
Which when you have, may you like us agree,
And at your best retirements thinke on me.
FINIS.
| Loves Mistresse : or The Queenes Masque | |