 | The Triumphs of the Prince D'Amour |  |
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The first Anti-Masque.
Two, whose habits presented them, for swaggering Souldiers, and of the cheaper quallity, such as are said to roare, not fight, their Beards mishapen, with long whiskers of the Stilletto cut.
Two Dutch Sea Officers, a Gunner and a Boatswaine.
An old over-growne debaush'd Cavalier, that seem'd unwieldy with his weight, his Riots had so inlarg'd him.
A Begging Souldier, with a Knapsack hanging at his backe.
A Suttlers wife, denoted by her dresse of the Campe, her head being bound with a Saddle girth, instead of Phylliting.
These after their Entry was perform'd, retire.
On the sudden, the Scene wholly changing, appeares a Campe of Tents, distinguished by their severall Colours: And in the middst was discover'd the Temple of Mars, the forme being square, and of the Dorick Order, with Trophies of Armes on the Front. Within the middle of the Temple stood the Statue of Mars, of Copper, upon a Pedestall.
This having continu'd a while in prospect, the Priests of Mars came out of the Temple, cloath'd in Crimson robes, of the Antick shape, girt in the wast and being tuck'd up, fall in a fold; on their heads,
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(1)
Come shut our Temple and away,Our bold seditious God shall stay;
Wee'l serve no sacrifice to day,
Our humor is to Feast, not Pray.
(2)
The Battell which our Knights have won,Did last untill th'amazed Sun
For feare, did mend his usuall pace,
And set betimes to hide his face.
(3)
And now the story of their fightIs universall, as his light,
Which Fame upon her swifter wing
Hath early brought for us to sing.
This Song ended, with a slow pace they descend (playing on their Instruments) and being advanc'd
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[Priests of Mars.]
(1)
Heark! heark! the trouble of the day draws neere,And now the Drum doth teach the heart to beat,
Whilst Trumpets cherish not, but wound the eare
Of such, who are ordain'd for a defeat.
Heark! Heark! some groane, and curse uncertaine Fate,
Which vs for blood and ruine, doth create.
Which vs for blood and ruine, doth create.
(2)
Charge! charge! cries ev'ry bold ambitious knight,Whilst artificiall darknesse hid their way,
The lightning of their Swords was all their light,
For dust, & sulphrous clouds had chok'd the day.
Heark! Heark! some groane, and curse uncertaine Fate,
Which vs for blood and ruine, doth create.
Which vs for blood and ruine, doth create.
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(3)
Burn, burn, was straight the noyse in ev'ry Tent,Whilst some mis-led by their disorder'd feare,
Did helpe to kindle what they should prevent,
And scap'd the Van to perish in the Reere.
Heark! Heark! some groane, and curse uncertaine Fate,
Which vs for blood and ruine, doth create.
Which vs for blood and ruine, doth create.
(4)
Fly, fly, cryes then the tame dejected Foe;Each wondring at the terror which he feeles,
And in the hurry of their overthrow,
Forsook their Arms, and trusted to their heels.
Heark! Heark! some groane, and curse uncertaine Fate,
Which vs for blood and ruine, doth create.
Which vs for blood and ruine, doth create.
(5)
Stand! stand! was now the word our Knights did give,For weary of pursuit, they had no will
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As if unworthy of their paines to kill.
Heark! Heark! some groane, and curse uncertaine Fate,
Which vs for blood and ruine, doth create.
Which vs for blood and ruine, doth create.
The Priests of Mars retire, and strait the Masquers appeare as coming out of severall Tents, their habits being Martiall and richly imbroder'd, inclining neere the old Romane shape; their Helmets Triumphantly plum'd, whiles the Bevir falling ore the face, serv'd for a disguise, and supply'd to each the office of a Vizard. These by their appearance and demeanour were devis'd to intimate those heroique Knights Templers, to which the Pallace of the Prince D' Amour was anciently Dedicated. They descend with a Majestique pace, and dance their first entry, then retire towards the Scene: whilst with amazement they discover Cupid descending in a bright cloud, who at their interview sings this.
(1)
Whither so gladly, and so fast,As if you knew all danger past
Of Combat, and of War?
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Or when J shoot, still ev'ry wound
J make, is but a scar.
(2)
Arme now your brests with shields of steele,And plates of Brasse, yet you shall feele
My arrowes are so keene,
Like lightning that not hurts the skin,
Yet melts the solid parts within,
They'l wound, although unseene.
(3)
My Mother taught mee long agoeTo ayme my shafts, and draw my Bow
When Mars shee did subdue.
And now you must resigne to Love,
Your warlike hearts, that shee may prove
Those antick Stories true.
This being sung, Cupid having dispersed his darts amongst them, which charmes them from designes of warre to inclinations of love, they all retire.
The Scene wholly changing, there appeares a square Piazza, resembling that of Venice, and 'tis
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| The Triumphs of the Prince D'Amour | |