University of Virginia Library

The Lar Familiaris of the house being proud of so much and great Company, and glad of their free and noble Entertainment, appears to congratulate the hospitality of the Lord and Lady, and speaks these lines.
Better then I could wish! Superlative
To all relations, not examples now!
I've known the Houshold Gods of Rome & Greece,
And all the good Penates of fam'd Troy,
Heard what they could triumph in, of their Fates;
Tell jovial stories of the frolick Greeks,
And the great Banquets of fam'd Ilium;
Have been inform'd of Egypts glorious Feasts
To entertain the Courtly Anthony:
Yet was there or Necessity, or pride,
Or empty prodigality in all.
Here is a Course steer'd even, and voluntary;
And I rejoyce, as much as Ganymed,
Olympus Nectar, and Ambrosia Keeper.
Here I grow fat with plenty of all sorts
That either Seas, or Land, or Air can yield;
And here I live as well admir'd, as envi'd
By all the Lares of all other Places:
For there's a Constancie in my delights,
A blest Elyzium where I do not want
The tithe of any wish I ever thought.
The proudest Lares of the greatest Princes
May boast of state, and languish in a noise,
Whil'st here I live secure, and do enjoy
As much of every thing, but fears and dangers.
And may it last while Fate attends on time,
Until the supreme Deities of Heaven
Think you too worthy to adorn the earth,
And mean to fix you glorious Stars in Heaven:
And whiles there's air but to receive a Sound,
May your Names busie it to speak your praise,
Continue ever matchless, as you are
A Pair without Compare, and but a Pair.

A Satyre invited by the Loudness of the Musick, and the perpetual concourse of people to inform himself to what end all tended, comes boldly in, and meets with the Lar Familiaris.
Lar.
What means this bold Intrusion?

Sat.
Friend, forbear,
Though I was born ith'Woods, and rudely bred
Among the Salvages, I have a mind
Aspires the knowledge of great Princes Courts,
And to what end aimes all this jollity
In yours as well as others Palaces.

Lar.
Dost thou approch to censure our delights,
And nip them in the bud? Satyre! take heed
We'l hunt you hence through al the woods & launs,
And over all the brooks thine eyes have seen.

Sat.
You threaten more perhaps then you can do:
What art?

Lar.
I am this Palace Deity.

Sat.
I wish thou wert a Servant unto Pan,
Or any God that doth frequent the Fields.

Lar.
So would not I: I'm better as I am.

Sat.
Thy Ignorance bewitches thee to this:
Thou liv'st among all fears, all noise, all cares,
While I walk merry under heavens bright eye.
We in the Fields are free from any Sin
Against th'almighty Deities of Heaven:
We know no Law but natures; do not tremble
At Princes frowns; have neither fear nor hope;
And are content, a State the Gods exceed not.
You languish in a perpetuity
Of thoughts as unconfin'd as are your ends
You truly lavish all your faculties
In getting covetous wealth, which we contemn.
Your sleeps are starting, full of dreams and fears;
And ours as quiet as the Barks in Calmes.
The youthful spring makes us our Beds of flowers,
And heaven-bright summer washeth us in springs
As clear as any of your Mistress's eies:
The plenteous Autume doth enrich our Banquets
With earths most curious fruits, & they unbought:
The healthful Winter doth not pain our bones,
For we are arm'd for cold, and Heat in Nature.
We have no unkind loves in meads or fields,
That scorn our tears, or slight our amorous sighes.
Nor are we frantick with fond jealousie,
The greatest curse Iove could inflict on's Queen,
For all her curious search into his Life:
We in the woods esteem that Beast the stateliest
That hath his head the richliest spread with horns.
The Golden Age remains with us, so fam'd
By your Athenian and Roman Poets.
Thus we enjoy what all you strive to get
With all the boundless riches of your wit.

Lar.
Satyre! When I but say th'art Ignorant,
Thy flourishing Boast is answered at the full.

Sat.
But I desire a larger way.

Lar.
And take it.
Canst thou compare the Rags of nakedness
Before the studied dressings of these times?
And canst thou like a cold and stony Cave
Before the perfum'd Beds of Palaces?
Admire the Melancholie falls of waters,
Or whistling Musick of th'inconstant windes,
The chirping discords of the wanton Birds,
Above the Angel-voices of our Ladies,
And th'exquisite variety of Musick
Order'd to thousand several Instruments?
Content to cloy thy homely Appetite
With Crabs, and Slows, and Nuts, and rude mixt herbs,
Before the stately Banquets of the Great?
How canst thou like Beasts inarticulate voices
Above the Heaven-given eloquence of men?
Forsake the Woods (fond Satyre) and but try
The unthought difference 'twixt them and us.
The Hills are fit for Beasts: Converse with men,
And thou wilt never like thy Cause agen.

Sat.
Thou almost dost perswade me: but then I
Shall leave mine old, and honest Company.

Lar.
Thy new Ones shall exceed them. Her's a Butler
Wil give thee wine as rich as is thy blood:
And her's a Cook will clothe thy bones with flesh
As rich as was young Jason's Golden Fleece.

Sat.
Well: I will live with thee.

Lar.
And welcome Satyre.

Sat.
Spite of the Fates, and Grecia's best Protector,
I'le be Achilles, and o'recome by

The Cooks Name.

Hector.

Lar.
A resolution worthy thy Sylvanus.

Sat.
But for my last Farewell unto the Woods,
I'le shew you a wild Dance of nimble Satyres:
For we do dance as much as they that live
In Princes Courts, and Tissue-Palaces.

First Song.
You Satyres that in Woods
Have frozen up your bloods,
Advance your selves, and show
What great Pan's men can do;
Appear.
Here you had need beware,
And move as swift as Air:
These are not Sylvane Swaines,
But Courtly Lords and Dames
Sit here.