 | The Araygnement of Paris |  |
SCENA. III.
Flora entereth to the countrie gods.Pan.
Flora well met, and for thy taken payne,
Poore countrie gods city debters we remaine.
Flor.
Beleeue me, Pan, not all thy lambes and yoes,
Nor, Faunus, all thy lustie buckes and does,
(But that I am instructed well to knowe,
What seruice to the hills and dales lowe,)
Could haue enforced me to so straunge a toyle,
Thus to enrich this gaudie gallant soyle.
Faun.
But tell me wench hast don't so trick in deede,
That heauen it selfe may wonder at the deede.
Flor.
Not Iris in her pride and brauerie,
Adornes her arche with such varietie:
Nor doth the milke white way in frostie night,
Appeare so faire and beautifull in sight.
As done these fieldes, and groues, and sweetest bowres,
Bestrewed and deckt with partie collord flowers.
Alonge the bubling brookes & siluer glyde,
that at the bottome doth in sylence slyde,
The waterie flowers and lillies on the bankes,
Like blazing cometes burgen all in rankes.
Vnder the Hathorne and the Poplar tree,
Where sacred Phœbe may delight to be:
The Primerose and the purple Hyacinthe,
The dayntie Uiolet and the holsome Minthe.
Of sommer floures, do ouer peere the greene:
And rounde about the valley as ye passe,
Yee may ne see for peeping flowers the grasse:
That well the mightie Iono and the rest,
May boldlie thinke to be a welcome guest
On Ida hills, when to approue the thing,
The queene of flowers prepares a second spring.
Sil.
Thou gentle Nymphe, what thankes shall we repaie
To thee, that makest our fieldes and woodes so gaie?
Flo.
Siluanus, when it is thy hap to see,
My workemanship, in portraying all the three,
First stately Iuno with her porte and grace,
Her roobes, her lawnes, her crounet and her mace:
Would make thee muse this picture to beholde,
Of yellow Oxstips bright as burnisht golde.
Pom.
A rare deuice, and Flora, well perdie,
Did painte her yellow for her iellozie.
Flo.
Pallas in flowers of hue and collowers red,
Her plumes, her helme, her launce, her Gorgous head,
Her trayling tresses that hang flaring rounde,
Of Iulie-flowers so graffed in the grounde,
That trust me Sirs, who did the cunning see,
Would at a blush suppose it to be shee.
Pan.
Good Flora, by my flocke twere verie good,
To dight her all in red resembling blood.
Flo.
Faire Venus of sweete Violetts in blue.
With other flowers infixt for chaunge of hue,
Her plumes, her pendants, bracelets and her ringes,
Her dayntie fan and twentie other thinges:
Her lustie mantle wauing in the winde,
And euerie part in collor and in kinde:
And for her wreath of roses she nil dare,
With Floras cunning counterfet compare
So that what lvuing whight shall chaunce to see,
These goddesses, eche placed in her degree,
Portrayed by Floraes workemanshipe alone,
Must say that Arte and nature met in one.
A deintie draught to lay her downe in blue,
The collour commonlie betokening true.
Flo.
This peece of worke compact with many a flowre,
And well layde in at entraunce of the bowre,
Where Phœbe meanes to make this meeting royall,
Haue I prepared to welcome them withall.
Pom.
And are they yet dismounted, Flora, saie:
That we may wende to meete them one the way.
Flo.
That shall not neede: they are at hand by this,
And the conductor of the trayne hight Rhanis.
Iuno hath left her chariot longe agoe,
And hath returned her Peacocks by her rainebowe.
And brauelie as becommes the wife of Ioue,
Doth honour by her presence to our groue.
Faire Uenus shee hath let her sparrowes flie,
To tende on her and make her melodie:
Her turtles and her swannes vnyoked bee,
And flicker neere her side for companie.
Pallas hath set her Tygers loose to feede,
Commaunding them to waite when shee hath neede.
And Hitherward with proude and statelie pace,
To doe vs honor in the Siluan chace
They marche like to the pompe of heauen aboue,
Iuno the wife and sister of king Ioue,
The warlicke Pallas, and the Queene of loue.
Pan.
Pipe Pan for ioy and let thy sheepeherdes sing,
Shall neuer age forget this memorable thing.
Flo.
Clio the sagest of the sisters nine,
To do obseruaunce to this dame deuine,
ladie of learning and of chyualrie,
Is here aryued in faire assemble,
And wandring vp and downe th'unbeaten wayes,
Ringe through the wood sweete songes of Pallas prayse.
Pom.
Harke Flora, Faunus, here is melodie,
A charme of birdes and more then ordinarie.
An artificiall charme of birdes being harde within, Pan speakes.
Pan.
The sillie birdes make mirth, then shoulde we doe them wronge,
Pomona, if we nil bestowe an Eccho to their songe.
The songe. A quier within and without.
Gods.
OIda, oIda, oIda happie hill,
This honour done to oIda may it continue still.
Mus.
Yee countrie gods, that in this Ida wonne,
Bring downe your giftes of welcome:
For honor done to Ida.
Gods.
Beholde in signe of love we sing,
And signes of ioyfull wel come bring.
For honor done to Ida.
Mus.
The Muses giue you melodie to gratulate this chaunce,
And Phœbe cheife of siluan chace commaundes you all to daunce.
Gods.
The rounde in a circle our sportance must must be,
daūce.
Holde handes in a hornepype all gallant in glee.
Mus.
Reuerence, reuerence, most humble reuerence.
Gods.
Most humble reuerence.
| The Araygnement of Paris | |