 | The Trivmph of Beavtie |  |
Omnes.
A Bottle
, a Bottle!
Bo.
I am out of winde. So, so, are
we all here? good men and true stand
together, and heare your charge. Hum,
hum.
Hob.
Bottle has something in him.
I knew him of a little one.
Scr.
A very sucking Bottle.
Bot.
Peace Scrip and Hobbinoll, Toad-stoole draw
a little nearer,—you all know—
Crab.
What doe you know?
Bot.
Silence neighbour Crab,—which of you
all is so wise, as to know what I would say now?
and a man should knock your braines out—
You all know, I say—
Cra.
I say agen, we know not. Bottle you forget
your selfe, you call'd us all ignorant Puppies. But now,
and now agen you say we all know.—
Bot.
—The Prince excuse me, you all know
Paris the Prince of Troy.
Cr.
We know him now, but it was a mysterie for
many yeares.
Ho.
Our young Lord and Master?
Bo.
Why very good then, and yet I must bee corrupted?
No, no, Bottle is a drie coxcombe, an emptie
foole. Bo'y te'e; make the Prince merrie your
selves.
Scr.
Nay Bottle, sweet Bottle, sweet Bottle; you
will never leave this peevish humour Crabbe; come,
he is sorrie.
Cra.
Well, I am sorrie; but will you not give a man
leave to speake?
Bo.
Speake? yes, but then you must not talke and
bolt such peremptorie questions, when I mis-call you
for your owne good. What is't to me, and the Prince
shall take a convenient twig, or drowne himselfe in
one of his melancholy fits: I can live, when you
have all betaken your selves to Hempe, I can. Only
I preferre the publick good before all the world, and
and the Prince before that, and my selfe before the
Prince, and my wife before my selfe, and your wife
neighbour before her: I know what's what. But
what's all this? unlesse we be reconciled and perfectly
divided among our selves. I know you all love me.
I love Bottle with my heart.
Bo.
But the Prince is another manner of man,
though I say't, and every day falls away with a humour
of melancholy; if we shall joyne our Panniers,
to make him merry with some rare and pleasant device
—why; your old friend and Bottle,
and so forth. Now let every man speake his opinion
freely, as his owne want of discretion shall direct
him.
Ho.
Some new device? there be a thousand new
devices, and a man could but remember one on 'em.
Sc.
Stay some strange shapes Bottle.—Silence,
what doe you thinke and wee should all be Fishes?
Bo.
He sayes well for silence, this must consist of
Mutes.
Scr.
I can play a Mute rarely.
Crab.
You the Mute? as if no-body could speake
but you: you the Mute?
Ho.
And the river hard by, will serve us rarely to
act in.
Scr.
And when we dance under water, no bodie
can see our footing. And you love me, let me be a
Whale: oh I can foot it curiously; and I can drinke
like a Fish.
Bo.
No. I doe not like these Water-works. I
was in a faire election to be drown'd at the last sheep-shearing;
and the Cramp is a thing to be considered.
No Water-works.
Hob.
What doe you say to Birds: a Device of
Birds?
Bo.
Birds? You'll be an Owle too.
Hob.
I have been taken for one in a tree a hundred
times.
Bot.
No, I have thought of a conceit—dee hear?
we scorne fishes, they are dull, phlegmatick things,
and your Birds at best are melancholly matters. What
doe you think of ---
Hob.
Beasts then: let us all be Beasts Bottle.
Bot.
Be all Asses will you not? Bou'y-tee agen.
Play the fooles your selves, doe, and see how the
Prince will like it, if Bottle be out. I am a puppy, I?
no, no.
Scr.
Nay, nay, honest Bottle: did you not bid every
man speak according to his discretion?
Bot.
I grant you; but is there discretion in a Beast?
Let us all play the Beasts quotha? Oh, I could bee
as musty as the Prince now; but I am of too sweet
a nature to flie out: which makes you presume. Well,
now or never, will you be rul'd yet?
Hob.
Now, and never too, bottle?
Omnes.
A Bottle, a Bottle. Silence, breake Silence.
Bot.
Why then, I'le make you all Princes or Lords,
or something else that shall bee little better: and because
we are all Shepheards, wee'll doe a thing proper
to our callings.
Omn.
That, that Bottle.
Bot.
What doe you say? if we act the Tragedie of
the golden Fleece?
Cra.
How? a Tragedy to make the Prince merry?
Bot.
There's the conceit: if he doe not laugh at every
man of us, Ile lose my part of the next possit,
neighbour.
He cannot choose.
Bot.
You all remember the story of Jason, that
sail'd to Colchos, with Hercules, and a Company
of Blades, where he kill'd the Brazen-footed Bulls,
and the fierie Dragons.
Bot.
Let me see, how many Actors are wee?—
The number will serve, well let me see, first, who
shall doe Hercules in the Lions belly?
Hob.
Belly?
Bot.
Why in the Lions skinne, 'tis all one.
Shr.
Ile doe Hercules.
Hob.
Let Shrub doe Hercules, he has plaid afore.
Shr.
I have a Club already, and I know where a
terrible Lion is, if any man will but flea off his skin
for me: Let me alone.
Hee struts and speaks small.
Omn.
A Shrub a Hercules.
Bot.
Who shall do Lady Medea the Kings daughter,
that fell in love with Jason, and bewitched the
Dragon?
Toad.
I'le doe the Lady, and the Kings daughter,
and for a Witch I am right by the mothers side.
[He speaks big.]
Cra.
His very voice will conjure.
Toad.
Who playes Jason my sweet-heart?
Hob.
Is Jason a man or a woman?
Bot.
Jason is a Kings sonne, and Captaine of a ship
call'd Argo.
Crab.
For a Prince or an Emperour, I know where
a choice might be made. But I have no heart to the
Captaine.
Your reason neighbour Crab.
Crab.
I know not which limbe I can best spare,
and Carpenters makes but scurvie legges. At Football,
or Fisty-Cuffes, I feare no Prince under the
Moon.
Bot.
You fight against no bodie but Bulls, and fiery
Dragons.
Cra.
Doe I not?
Bot.
And they must bee all fast asleep when you
kill 'em; Nay, Hercules himselfe must take your
part too.
Crab.
Nay then let me alone.
Bot.
Now my Masters, who shall doe the Dragon?
Scr.
Is it a he, or a she Dragon?
Bot.
No matter which.
Scrip.
What doe you think of my wife? she'll do't.
She does the Dragon at home, 'twod do a mans heart
good to be out of the house; no body is able to endure
her; shee is a flying Dragon, and will fit yon
rarely—
Bot.
We wo'not be troubled with women; and
you'll do't your self; well and good.
Scr.
Rather then the play shall not goe forward
my wife shall teach me my part.
Hob.
Doe you meane I shall have no part? Shall
Hobbinoll play nothing? Clout has no part neither.
Bot.
You shall be Medeas Brother, Absirtus, a
little childe.
Hob.
I shall bee too tall.
Bot.
You must be cut a peeces, and have your limbs
throwne about the waves.
Crab.
And when your legges, and your head are
take a course to make you little enough. And Clout,
doe you see? you shall be the ship, hung all round
about with Flags, and fine things, we cannot come
to Colchos without you.
Clout.
Shall I play the Ship? let me alone to carrie
my body swimming.
Crab.
Have a care you doe not leake before the
Prince; and bee sure to carry a good winde in your
Poop-Clout. But stay, all this while, who shall
doe the golden Fleece? Bottle, you forget that?
Bot.
The chiefe part in the Play, and one that must
weare the best cloathes too.
Crab.
Why let some body else doe Jason, and Ile
doe the golden Fleece.
Scr.
Or I.
Hob.
Or I.
To.
Or any body—Or what if we left out
the golden Fleece?
Bot.
What if you left out the play? the golden
Fleece out? why 'tis the name, and the onely rich
thing in the Play.
Scr.
Why then leave out the Ship.
Cl.
Yes, and goe by land to Colchos. May not somebody
doe two parts. Let Scrip doe the Dragon and
the Kings daughter.
Cr.
Or leave out the little boy; he has but a small
part.
Hob.
Ile be cut in pieces a hundred times first, leave
out Hercules and you will, or Jason: if I doe not fit
you Crab.
Shr.
Why Hercules, left out, good-man Hobbinoll?
No mutiny Shrub, neighbour Crab.
Shrub strikes Hob: they all fight.
Bot.
So so, we shall have a Tragedy indeed; have
a care of the Kings daughter among you. Hold, they'll
teare Clout all to peeces, Have a care of the Ship.
Cr.
Sinke or swim, I care not.
Clout.
Oh my Ribs!
Bot.
He that gives the next blow shall lose his share,
if he be not turn'd out of the Company. What my
Masters, you shal not fall out about this golden Fleece:
I kept that part for my selfe I warrant you; you shall
not fall out about sharing: I am resolved the golden
Fleece is mine, as I am the best Actor, and Master of
the Company.
Clout.
Bottle indeed had no part before: So, so,
then we are all friends, and fitted.
Hob.
When shall we have our parts? oh Bottle
how I thirst! when our parts?
Bot.
Parts? why you must doe it instantly, the
Prince stayes for't.
Shr.
How? the Lion is to be kill'd, whose skin
I must weare when I play Hercules.
Clout.
Doe you thinke, I can doe the ship, and
have not halfe my tacklings about me?
Scrip.
And I have not practised to spit fire yet.
Bot.
I knew what a company of sots you would
be. You'll be Hercules, and you'll be a Whale, and
you'll be a Ship, and you'll be a Dragon, and you will
be a Lady. You Actors? you Animals, to undertake
a Play, and aske when you shall have your parts;
Oh I am asham'd! but there is no remedy, with
Dance, I taught you last? that shall serve for this
time. The Prince keeps his old walke: be sure to be
within reach of my voice, when I call you. Get behinde
the trees; I spy him.
Exit.
Enter Paris.
Par.
What is it to be sprung of Kingly race,
Or have the bloud of Priam in my veines,
Yet dare not call him Father? he was cruell,
Thus for a dreame to banish me his sight,
And my deare mothers armes.
Bot.
within.
So ho, ho, ho.
Par.
This busie shepheard will afflict me stil
With his unseasonable mirth; I am
Onely in love with Melancholy; Pleasures
Are tedious to my soule; Must I be ever
Confin'd to woods? are Beasts or men more wilde
Than they companions for a Prince? are these
Fit ornaments of State? is this a Pallace?
Bot.
within.
So ho, ho, ho.
Par.
Again? would I could hide me from the world;
I will goe seek my dwelling in some rock
Where never day shall be acquainted with me;
The Sun whose beams cheare all the world beside,
Shines like a Comet o're my head.
Enter Bottle.
Bot.
So ho, ho, ho.
I thought we had lost you: why how now? still in
De'e heare Sir; I met your your Nurse at the
bottome of the Hill.
Par.
What Nurse?
Bot.
The charitable Beare that gave you suck; for
though you be a Prince borne, your Parents would not
be at the charge to bring you up at Court; Mistris
Ursula, and I, have have been the best friends to your
bloud Roiall.
Par.
I prethee leave me.
Bot.
Leave my young Prince in a wood? A word
to the wise—are not you in love?
Par.
In love? with what?
Bot.
Nay, I doe not know what wilde beast hath
entangled you: but I have a shrewd suspition; for
thus simply did I look by all report, when I was in
love too, it had almost undone me, for it infected me
with Poetrie; and I grew witty to the admiration of
all the Owles in Ida.
You shall heare my Verses.
That is love, and cannot woe?
By sad experience now I finde,
That Love is dumbe as well as blinde.
Her haire is bright, her forehead high,
Then am I taken with her eye:
Her cheeks I must commend for gay,
But then her nose hangs in my way.
Her lips I like, but then steps in
Her white and prettie dimpled chin.
But then her neck I doe behold,
Fit to be hang'd in chaines of gold.
Beneath which lies her Maiden-towne,
So strong and fortifi'd within,
There is no hope to take it in.
And so forth. But I thank my dutifull father, hee
cur'd me with a Flaile, and most learnedly thresh'd
blinde Cupid out of my sides. I had been no Bottle
of this world else.
Par.
If thou dost love mee, doe not interrupt me,
I would be private.
Bot.
I would be loath to be unmannerly, and hinder
a Princely recreation: but I see no temptations,
nothing in the likenesse of a Petticote. What would
you be private for?
Par.
I have some serious thoughts to examine, if
thou wilt use thy diligence to keep off those that
rudely would disturbe my present retirement: trust
me, Ile reward thy care with my best weather.
Bottle.
Weather? You are wise; doe you think,
Sir, I have so little honesty, to be Sir Pandarus to your
Melancholy. Illo, ho.—
Par.
What, art thou mad?
Bot.
You are little better: if you can get their
consent.
Par.
Whose consent?
Bot.
Hobinoll, Crab, Toad-stoole,—Illo ho, boyes.
Some friends of yours, that sent me to hunt out your
Highnesse, your humble Subjects and Play-fellowes,
that have a minde to be merrie.—To tell you
true, we have taken notice of your sullen disposition;
and therefore halfe a dozen have penn'd a dance to
a hand in it. If you doe heare an Oration over and
above, by way of a preparative to the Physick we
intend, so. I name no body: all the Shepheards wit
is not a wool-gathering. Therefore stir not my deare
Prince, as you will answer the contempt of our authority
at your perill.
Exit.
Par.
What a strange rudenesse am I forc'd to obey?
Unhappy Paris! thy ungentle starres,
Not onely have decreed thy cruell Exile,
From those delights thy bloud and birth should challenge,
But by their fatall doome vouchsafe thee not
To enjoy a quiet miserie.
Bag pipes are heard. Enter Bottle.
Bot.
Hold thou unlearned Bag-pipe: for now I am
to act a Speech unto the sonne of Priam. Hum, hum.
Most noble Prince! behold thy Bottle here,
Thy well-beloved Bottle does appeare,
With many more that shall be seen hereafter,
To tickle thy kinde spleen into a laughter:
With feare and wit, or without feare and wit,
We come, as it becomes, to friske a bit,
In a ridiculous round: and therefore lye
Thee downe and laugh, (Now you may lye down, so.
Thee downe and laugh, for we doe meane, whereby
It may be said in a well-written dance
To shew thee sport, our heeles for to advance.
Which is an excellent thing. Banish thy feares,
Oh lovely Prince, bred up amongst the Beares,
And beare with us.
Par.
What mist doth dwell about my eyes? I feele
Their heavy curtaines fall; welcome soft sleep,
The cure of all unrest. helpe to repaire
The broken silence of my braine, distill
Thy Balme into my wounded thoughts; oh see
I doe obey, and throw my cares on thee.
Dormit.
A Song.
No more discord entertaine,
But be smooth and calme againe.
As your streames are passing by,
Teach your murmurs harmony.
And perfumes to flowers do bring:
Let your amorous whispers here
Breath soft Musick to his eare.
From every wood, to charme this aire,
And with the wonders of your breast,
Each striving to excell the rest.
When it is time to wake him, close your parts,
And drop downe from the trees with broken hearts.
Young Priam's son, and darling of the gods,
I Mercurie, winged Messenger of Jove,
By his command have lest his spangled Court,
And through the silver Orbes descend to tell thee,
That he hath chosen thee to be the Judge
Between three Deities, which shall best deserve
This golden Ball: Juno his Queen of heaven,
Pallas the goddesse of faire Arts, and Armes,
And Citherea, Queen of Love and Beautie.
Shake off thy clouds of sleep, and freed from all
Distractions, prepare to heare them plead
Their glories here. Imperiall Juno drawne
Be her proud Birds, is stooping from her Coach.
The Jove-borne maid already hath dismounted
The Paphian Queen with her young Archer drawne
By Swans more white than Rodopeian snow,
Is now descending from her Chariot,
And on the green Plush of this Ida hill
They all move to thee with celestiall pace.
Paris awake, Jove doth his Herald call,
To the most worthy give this golden Ball.
(Ascendit.
Par.
What have I seene? what strange
But heavenly dreame hath Paris had:
(He spies the Ball.
Yet this presents more then an emptie shadow,
I'me sure it grew not here; there are no trees
That beare such fruit in Ida; such as these
Grew in the Orchard of Hesperides,
And ever guarded by a watchfull Dragon.
Then Jove hath gather'd it and sent it me.
I am not then deluded; it is fit
I should observe with all obedience
Great Joves command.
Soft Musick.
What sacred change is this?
Such harmony must needs speak the approach
Of the Celestiall powers.
Song of Juno within.
Jove sent thee Paris; what is mine,
be safely bold;
And for that trifle I resigne
a wreath of gold.
Obey then and command, thou canst not be
Just to thy selfe, if not to me.
Pallas.
Twice happy in thy choise: be wise,
ere thou dispence
This Treasure, give thy Reason eyes,
and blinde thy sence,
Thus Armes and Arts thy humble name shall raise,
Alike to Wreathes of Oakes and Bayes.
She, whom all suppliants else implore
is here made thine,
And will for this a gift restore,
no lesse divine.
The best of pleasures thus enjoy, and trie.
Where Beautie Courts who can denie.
Chorus.
Examine Princely Shepheard here
the Offerings which we send thee,
How for that narrow golden sphere,
Wealth, Fame and love attend thee.
And judge by this, how large these honours be,
None to each other yeeld, yet all to thee.
Juno, Pallas, and Venus at severall places appeare Juno attended by a King and a Senator. Pallas by a Souldier, and a Philosopher. Venus by Hymen and Cupid. They dance: At the close, all remove, but the three goddesses. Paris kneeles.
Juno.
Put off thy wonder Paris, and collect
Thy scattered sences in our Temples, we
Expect those hummble adorations
And sacrifice from Mortalls, that doe bring
Petitions to our Altars. We are come
From our bright Pallaces, to sue to thee:
(Thinke it no staine to our Celestiall nature)
That golden Ball, sent thee by Jove, to be
Her prize, whose merits can obtaine it from
Thy equall sentence of us three, hath brought
Our competition hither; be just Paris,
And live for ever happy.
Par.
How shall Paris,
Whose yeares are green, & too unripe for judgment,
Decide the worth of three such Deities,
Which not a counsell of the gods themselves,
Hath wisedome to determine?
Juno.
We will plead
Our owne deserts before thee, to which give
Thy fixt attention, and heare Juno first
Court thy election.
Par.
Humbly I attend.
Juno.
Ile not insist, that I am with the vote
Of all the gods first both in place and title:
Th' Olimpian Empresse, Joves wife and sister,
These are but names and shadowes of my greatnesse,
And which doe rather fright, than win from mortalls,
Whose sense must let in objects to the soule:
Know Paris, with that Scepter I controule,
Not skies alone, but all this under world:
Kingdoms and Crowns are mine, all wealth contain'd
In Neptunes watry circle, or the veines
Of earth as subject to my gift and largesse.
Min.
With favour of great Junoes Empire,
She that disposeth golden Mines at pleasure,
('Tis strange) should hold contention for a Ball.
I doe, and will reward it with more Treasure
Then his ambition knowes how to aske:
Not that I prize that poore and narrow globe,
But that I hate, Pallas should be competitour,
Or any with Saturnia; give it me,
And I will furnish thee with the same mettall,
To build thy self a Pallace, about which,
The yellow Tagus, and Iberus streames,
Asian Pactolus, and the Indian Ganges,
Shall flow with golden sands: let thy Birth Paris,
Put thee in minde what 'tis to be a Monarch.
I will adorne thy Temples with a wreath,
Whose flame shall dimme bright Ariadnes Crowne,
Embellish'd with the glorious Lamps of heaven:
Name but the bounds and limits of thy Empire;
Asia shall bow, and all her stubborne Princes,
Like petty homagers shall kneele before thee,
And lay their shining Scepters at thy feet;
Europe shall prostrate all her Provinces,
And glorie in her servitude, incline
To me, and India shall send thee Pearles,
As tribute to bestow upon thy Queens;
The precious Ermynos shall without pursuit
Present thee with her skins: and the cold climes
Bring home rich Furres, and Sables to adorne thee.
The servile roomes within thy Pallace, shall
Have Babilonian hangings, and rich shapes,
Wrought by the needle of Semyramis.
The fish shal bring thee purple to the shore.
Panchaia send thee Spice, and wealthy Gummes,
Such as the Assyrian Bird doth fill her nest with,
When she prepares for sacrifice. The spoiles
What shall I say, present that Ball to me,
And in exchange Ile give the world to thee.
Pa.
Juno hath said; and were not Pallas here,
Might tempt thee Paris to forget thy selfe:
Her promises are vast, and full of State,
But weigh'd with what Minerva can bestow,
They shrinke to aire, and thou Ixion-like,
Embracing Juno dost but graspe a cloud.
Nay, if thou dost examine well her gifts,
How 'ere their flattering sound affect thy eare,
Or their possession court thy eye with thew,
And specious glories, thou shalt finde within,
They have disguis'd a poison, that doth lurke
To infect thy minde, and kill with their corruption
Thy intellectuall Beauties, by soft ease
A sordid avarice, coward thoughts, and all
The traine of Lust and Lethargies that hang
Upon a Masculine soule; where thy acceptance
Of what is in my power, shall make thee scorne
These things of care and golden slaverie,
That foole and flinty consciences adore,
And grasp'd, like theeving sands steal through our fingers.
Ile give thee Wisedome Paris, in which name
I comprehend all harmony of earth,
And heaven, and make thee kinse-man to the gods.
Nature shall open her darke bosome to thee,
And give thee leave to rifle all her wonders:
The Virgin Arts shall court thee to be call'd
Their Oracle, and whatsoe're the extent
Of that wide Orbe containes, whose bounds shut up
The universall creature, shall unveile
Ven.
Juno and Pallas promise gallantly.
Pa.
Yet this concludes not, what Minerva can
Bestow upon her Paris; if the Arts
Inflame thee not, or doe appeare lesse active,
And glorious to meet thy fierce Ambition.
Fame shall want breath to tell the world what triumphs
Shall Crowne thy name in warre, if Pallas arme
Thy breast with courage, which my bounty throwes
To thy acceptance; if that Ball be mine,
Ile give thee a spirit Trojan, and such conquests
By thy owne valour, as at once shall fright,
And please the hearers faith: Nations shall tremble
To mention thy great Acts, whose memory
Shall out-live all Egyptian Pyramids,
And bloome when Winters have defac'd the world,
And feeble time shall droop and halt with age:
Trophies shall fall in dutie to thy sword,
And Captive Princes wait upon thy Chariot.
Some shall build Statues, others invent games,
Some Temples to thy name, while holy Priests
And Virgin Quires shall make it their Religion,
To pay thee songs, and Crowne thy images
With ever-springing Garlands. Be wise, Paris,
Resolve to make that golden Circle mine,
Both Arts and Armes shall make their glories thine.
Ven.
What words? what argument to move thee Paris
Is left for Cytherea? Mighty Juno
Woes thy ambition with State and Kingdomes,
Courting thy Genius in a shower of gold:
Pallas not onely will inspire thy soule,
With valour, on which victory shall waite,
But make thee rich in Science, and uncloud
The sacred beauties of all Art and Nature.
These bounties seem to have left Venus nothing;
But when my power and gifts come to the Ballance,
Paris shall see their glories, thinne and light,
Fly into aire: I am the Queen of love:
Thinke but how poore are Pallas victories,
When I have made her greatest souldiers tame,
Forc'd 'em look pale, and tremble, sigh and weep,
Ready to give their ghost up at a frowne,
And thinke my smile or kisse their onely heaven.
Her Oracles of Wisedome and Philosophy
Have been my fooles, & all their strength of learning,
But able to expresse great Loves supremacie,
And my dominions boundlesse. What doe I
Boast the extent of my command on earth?
When under my Diviner Ensignes march
Etheriall Troops? my power confest by Jove
To sway in heaven: and what are all the treasures
And gifts of Juno, Kingdomes pil'd on Kingdomes?
Which at the best but multiply thy cares
To keep, if Love be not propitious to thee?
Who can discharge a thousand stings upon
Thy heart, and make it prisoner when I please.
Juno.
The goddesse of vexation we allow thee.
Ven.
But these are not the motives to incline
Thy thoughts young Prince to me; thus fear, not love
Should plead for me, although the torments are
High and consuming, where I fixe displeasure,
The joyes I poure upon my favourites
Shall be my Orators, whose endlesse charmes
Thy soule in everlasting chains of love.
Poets have feign'd Elysium after death,
Which thou shalt here possesse; and all the pleasure
Of those blest shades, they talke of in their songs,
Shall spread themselves before thee, which thou shalt
Possesse as Lord, not Tenant to the Groves.
It shall be ever spring, and ever Summer,
Where Paris shall inhabit, all rude aires,
The killing dewes, tempest, and lightning, shall
Be strangers to thy walkes, which the West winde
Shall with their soft and gentle gales perfume.
The Laurell and the Mirtle shall compose
Thy Arbours, inter-woven with the Rose,
And honey-dropping Wood-bine; on the ground
The flowres ambitiously shall croud themselves
Into Love-knots, and Coronets, to entangle
Thy feet, that they may kisse them, as they tread,
And keep them prisoners in their amorous stalkes.
The Violet shall weep when thou remov'st,
And the pale Lilly deck her innocent cheek
With Pearles to Court thy stay; the Hyacinth,
When thou art passing by her, shall disclose
Her Purple bosome to thee, proud to be
Saluted by thy eye, and being left,
Blush, droop, and wither, like a Love-sick Virgin.
Doth Paris thirst? Rivers of Nectar flow
In every chrystall channell: wouldst thou feed,
The trees shall bow under their heavenly fruit,
And offer their Ambrosia to thy gathering.
Nor shalt thou be alone, a thousand Nymphes,
Fairer then ever thy eyes gaz'd upon,
Make thy delight immortall: these at last
To crowne thy joyes shall lead thee to a Mistris,
Compar'd to whom; their beauties have no name;
In whose least part more wonders shall invite
Thy amaz'd eye, than all the Queens of earth
Can boast together, and this beauties heaven
Will I bestow on Paris, in whose love
He shall possesse more raptures, than are sands
In all the glasse of time.
Juno.
Fine aery Blessings;
A small Art will distinguish 'twixt us three
Who can deserve thee best.
Par.
I am transported,
And first my humble gratitude presented
For this, an honour above all, that has
A name in story, lent to grave a mortall,
And give me patience you deviner natures,
If it distract, and fright my weaker counsells.
It is not safe to thinke, what language then
Shall have the confidence to expresse those thoughts
That merit to be stiff'd? I must tremble
To be my selfe, and speak: Yet if I dream not,
I am commanded to resigne this Ball,
Not mine, but hers, of you three best deserving:
Is't not a sinne to name one best? oh pardon!
That I had leave to whisper in the eare
Of Jove two minutes.
Pal.
It was meant by him,
You should declare your selfe to us.
Ven.
Be confident,
And wisedome guide the sentence.
'Tis expected,
Be therefore bold and wise.
Par.
I feele new courage
Infus'd; there's something spreads through every part,
And chides my timerous youth into resolve
Of something that must be.
Omn.
It must be welcome,
We are prepar'd.
Par.
Great Juno, I not dare
To question your vast power, the world and you
Shut all up with one circle, wealth and kingdomes
Are able to strike blinde with their temptation;
The eyes of young ambition, and my birth
Had sure those seeds of glorie; but my fate
Has stifled 'em, and made them so familiar
With shades and humble thoughts, I cannot finde,
My soule now fit for those desires.
Jun.
Despise
My gifts? perish in wants unpittied.
Pal.
Nay stay, and heare one more concluded Juno.
The Ball is not bestow'd.
Par.
'Tis some unhappinesse,
I look not with that admiration
Upon Minerva's gifts. Philosophy
That teacheth to contemplate heaven and nature,
Carries some trouble with it: and for Armes,
There are enow will bleed to be triumphant.
A Limbe to me is better than a Lawrel
Purchas'd with wounds; your pardon, if I think
The Queen of Love to be preferr'd, accept
The Ball bright Citherea, and with it
The humble heart of Paris.
Am I thus
Neglected by a Boy? how I despise him.
Pal.
I pitie the fond youth.
Exit.
Par.
They are both gone.
Ven.
Displeased.
Par.
Their anger frights not me,
So I be welcome here.
Ven.
Be confidentt
Enter Cupid.
Love shall confirme it: see my son appeares.
Cupid, I thought thou hadst been lost.
Cup.
Though blinde,
I never lose my way to Beautie: Mother,
I all this while but hover'd in the aire,
To heare how Paris would determine, and
Rejoyce in Beauties triumph, and thy justice
Par.
Let Juno fret, and Pallas frowne,
Nature to all succeeding times shall prove,
Wealth, Arts, & Arms must yeeld to conquering Love.
Cup.
That name belongs to me.
Par.
Venus and Cupid will no doubt agree.
Love dwels with Beautie, they together move;
There is no Beautie where there is not love.
Cup.
For this choise, young Paris know,
While powerfull Cupid hath a Bow,
A golden shaft, or skilfull hand,
All shall move at thy command.
Par.
You both make Paris happy.
Ven.
But where are
Our traine of Graces, and the pleasant Houres,
To entertaine our Darling? Where is Hymen?
Where is Delight?
Cup.
Mother they both appeare.
Song.
Hym.
Come yee Graces come away.
Del.
Yee pleasant Houres why doe you stay?
Both.
Vpon your Mistris wait.
Hym.
See where in state
The Queen of Love and Beautie is.
Del.
On such a solemne-night as this,
Sacred to kissing:
What bold Nymph dare be missing?
Hym.
They come, they come, behold
The modest Graces.
The Graces and Houres Enter.
Del.
For loves sake mend your paces,
And blush not to be bold.
Hym.
The Houres have lost their wings, I feare,
Del.
No, they appeare.
Chorus.
And Ida green
Is now the Court of Paphos Queen:
To Venus, and their new made King.
They all bow to Venus.
Ven.
All these wait
On me, and I command them to attend
On lovely Paris.
Par.
Let me dwell ever
With Citherea, Ida is turn'd heaven.
Ven.
Now let us dance, these pleasures are not active.
They dance; after which a Song. The Houres steale off.
How dully all your joyes doe move,
Delight is crippled, here.
Your motion should be like to that above,
This is too thick a sphere.
The feather-footed houres are fled away,
Asham'd to stay:
Then follow, flie, oh come,
You must made haste,
If you will taste
Loves new Elysium.
Ven.
We want some of our Nymphes Eunomia,
Faire Diche, and Irene, are they gone?
Although we did entreat them stay,
The pleasant houres are stolne away.
Ven.
Which way.
Grac.
That way,
To the Elysian Bowers.
Pa.
Wee'll flye, and overtake the happy houres.
Exeunt.
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