 | Love and War |  |
Scen. 1.
Aberden, Adrenimia.Aber.
The north and south both Poles do not contain
The very thoughts of this our great Lands joyes,
A Conqueror by popular grace;
I raign with reverent voyce among my flock,
Revenge will not spring up by angers dew,
Or shew its muddy face by foul conspiracy;
Fortune is prosperous, spurning gods of Love
To dress our Land with crown of Trophies, Gold,
Repulsing Legions of Furies that spend
Their breathing hours nought but to wrack and ruin:
All Lands implore my aid, drooping their head,
Till hope doth blow the fire of better days,
Sharp empty titles they make fame of them,
While we with hostile voyce crack Thunder-bolts;
And 'twas Hollarro's valour stated it,
Which is a captive to fond Cupids bolt,
Planting female Cannons charg'd with love,
Whose shot is fear, and powder jealousy,
Turning this Land to the Antipodes.
Lerenica hath a stronger arm then he,
And by her sweet-fac'd plots, which Tyrants turn,
Hath the pledges of his Princely brow;
But at the length he loves her so entire,
That he hath promis'd union to her shrine,
And marry her.
'Tis pride, not fortune sure, that nature leads,
His years are too young to hide such vowes;
That glorious rays will vanish with the Sun,
Striking a seeming passage of dispair,
And waken the papavered sense of his brain,
Which by an opiate virtue is made dull,
And will revive desire of extasie;
But if that balm, that soveraign balm of love,
Hath so impregnated by a silent look,
The bed of all his joy, and heart of fire,
Them to unjoyn, shall not be my desire;
Let Myriads of prayers, and countries love sound all
Large Hymns of mirth unto their nuptiall;
And let all acute Poets seek their store,
To give the Bride a gift beyond all o're;
Let mirth and triumph then so joyn together,
That there's no difference 'twixt fair or foul weather.
Aber.
The trembling silence of your dreadful vote,
Hath turn'd his title to another sense,
The extream load which virtuous valour bear
By loves punnyard, is an abyss of pain;
But your reply gives a supporter to
That heavy heart, which is by th'load opprest,
Out of the stage where honour plays her Scenes.
I know he'l call reward unto your name;
His duty binds such sonly grace to me,
That Reason says he will not forget thee.
Adr.
The Syrian flames quench the damp of spirits,
So honour'd terms brings conclusion to good will;
I know the dainty Souldiers of such troops,
Fear not the fight of ashes of mens Tombs,
The constellation of his nature good,
Doth bring a recompence beyond that form:
There is no royall looks, or face of fame,
Be more in gratitude then his own selfe,
I wish the presence of his Princely plumes,
Would over-fly the Court into this place,
That peace might shew my pitty to consent,
To the bright day triumph of his Bride,
I give my free consent.
Aber.
His presence is
By their true rays, the substance not far off;
For time doth sacrifice unto the dame
Of patience, the flower of its first prime,
Because our mind stayes leasure of his will,
Untill it please be present in our sight,
The dismall looks of th'progress that he goes,
Debars the splendency of his bright beam,
Or otherwise he would have seen the Queen
(Your selfe) my joy, with his blessed spouse;
But stay, he comes with her.
Hollarro, Lerenica.
Adr.
Is this her?
Aber.
Yes, this is she; welcome Hollarro.
Adr.
The civill war of all the world, bends knee
Unto your judgement and excellency,
And so I hope this Lady gives the Bayes
Unto your Crown, I wish long happy days.
Hol.
Great Queen, the weaknesse of my youth did bend
My fancy to a sensual carelesse end,
Because no knowledge seem'd to admit its trust
Unto your sacred wisdom which is just;
But let a fickle fancy with weak mind,
Crave pardon for my folly there inclin'd.
Ler.
And I, most Princely Queen, which Mother be
To my poor soul, I thank on bended knee,
Because you grant the same.
Adr.
Rise hopefull childe,
Then King Aberden give the day its fill
Of merriment unto a Princess will.
Aber.
I will, blest Queen, Hollarro take the Bride,
And to the Church be thou a swift sure guide.
Where all the Gods of th'Land stand in a form
Of servitude, as they were all forlorn;
But haste to th'Bishop that combines the knot,
I'le stay at Palace for a future plot.
Exeunt.
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