 | London's tempe |  |
The first scæne is a water-worke, presented by Oceanus, king of the sea, (from whose name the universall maine sea is called the ocean) he, to celebrate the ceremonies and honors due to this great festivall, and to shew the world his marine chariot, sits triumphantly in the vast (but queint) shell of a silver scollup, reyning in the heads of two wild sea-horses proportioned to the life, their maynes falling about their neckes, shining with curles of gold.
On his head, which (as his beard) is knotted, long, carelesly spred, and white, is placed a diadem, whose bottome is a conceited coronet of gold; the middle over that, is a coronet of silver scollops, and on the top a faire spreading branch of corrall, interwoven thickly with pearle. In his right hand a golden trident, or three forked scepter.
His habit is antique, the stuffe, watchet and silver; a mantle crossing his body, with silver waves, bases and buskins cut likewise at the top into silver scollups, and in this language he congratulates his lordship.
OCEANUS
HIS SPEECH.
Whos voyce charmes roughest billows into slaves,
As in my shelly coach I reyne up these.
To see the noble Thamesis,—a sonne
To this my queene and me (Tethys) whose eare
Ne're jeweld up such musick as sounds here:
For our unfaddomed world, roares out with none
But horrid sea-fights, navies overthrowne;
Ilands halfe drowned in blood, pyrates pell mell,
Turkes slavish tugging oares, the Dunkerk's hell,
The Dutchman's thunder, and the Spaniards lightning,
To whom the sulphures breath gives heate and heightning,
O! these are the dire tunes my consort sings.
But here! old Thames out-shines the beames of kings.
And to all you who to this hall resort,
This Lactea Via (as a path) is given,
Being paved with pearle, as that with starres in heaven.
(But the wilde boare has tusked up his vine);
I could swift Volga call, whose curld head lies
On seaven rich pillowes (but, in merchandize
The Russian him imployes); I could to theis
Call Ganges, Nilus, long-haird Euphrates;
Tagus, whose golden hands claspe Lisbone walles,
Him could I call too,—but what neede theis calles?
Were they all here, they would weepe out their eyes,
Madde that new Troy's high towers on tiptoe rize
To hit heaven's roofe: madde to see Thames this day
(For all his age) in wanton windinges play
Before his new grave prætor, and before
Theis senators, best fathers of the poore,
A fleete of bridall gondolets appeare,
To marry with a golden ring, (that's hurld
Into the sea) that minion of the world,
To these full braveries of Thamesis.
What honours there are left to Campebel's name,
As by disent; whilst we tow up a tyde,
Which shall ronne sweating up by your barges side;
That done, Time shall Oceanus' name inroll,
For guarding you to London's capitoll.
THE SECOND PRESENTATION.
The invention is a proud-swelling sea, on whose waves is borne up a sea lyon, as a proper and eminent body to marshall in the following triumphes; in regard it is one of the supporters of the East Indian Company, of which his lordship is free, and a great adventurer. And these marine creatures, are the more fitly imployed, in regard also, that his lordship is Maior of the Staple, Governour of the French Company, and free of the East-land Company.
On this lyon (wich is cut out of wood to the life) rides Tethys wife to Oceanus, and queene of the sea; for why should the king of waves be in such a glorious progresse without his queene, or she without him? They both therefore twin themselves together to heighten these solemnities.
Her haire is long, and dishevelled; on her head an antique sea-tyre, encompast with a coronall of gold and pearle, her garments rich and proper to her quality, with a taffaty mantle fringed with silver crossing her body. Her right hand supporting a large streamer in which are the Lord Maiors armes.
On each side of this lyon, attend a mermaid and merman, holding two banners, with the armes of the two new shrieves, several fishes swimming as it were about the border. And these two having dispatched on the water, hasten to aduance themselves on land.
THE THIRD.
The third show is an estridge, cut out of timber to the life, biting a horse-shoe: on this bird rides an Indian boy, holding in one hand a long tobacco pipe, in the other a dart; his attire is proper to the country.
At the four angles of the square, where the estridg stands, are plac'd a Turke, and a Persian, a pikeman and a musketeere.
THE FOURTH.
The fourth presentation is called the Lemnian forge. In it are Vulcan, the Smith of Lemnos, with his servants (the Cyclopes), whose names are Pyracmon, Brontes and Sceropes, working at the anvile. Their habite are wastcoates and leather approns: their hair blacke and shaggy, in knotted curles.
A fire is seene in the forge, bellowes blowing, some filing, some at other workes; thunder and lightning on occasion. As the smiths are at worke, they sing in praise of iron, the anvile and hammer: by the concordant stroakes and soundes of which, Tuballcayne became the first inventor of musicke.
[Smiths]
THE SONG.
The art of musicke has her ground;
Thy knick-a-knock is a smithes best chyme.
Thwick, thwack-a-thwack, thwack,
Make our brawny sinewes crack,
Then pit-a-pat pat, pit-a-pat pat,
Till thickest barres be beaten flat.
Harnesse the dragons of the moone,
Forge Cupid's quiver, bow, and arrowes,
And our dame's coach that's drawn with sparrowes.
Till thwick-a-thwack, &c.
We beat out with our Lemnian hammers;
Mars his gauntlet, helme, and speare,
And Gorgon shield, are all made here.
Till thwick-a-thwack, &c.
Those golden studdes which naile the starres,
The globe's case, and the axletree,
Who can hammer these but wee?
Till thwick-a-thwack, &c.
Lying i'th'frozen zone halfe dead;
Hob-nailes to serve the man i'th'moone,
And sparrowbils to cloute Pan's shoone,
Whose work but ours?
Till thwick-a-thwack, &c.
We make, or else she brawles and bannes;
Tonges, shovels, andirons have their places,
Else she scratches all our faces.
Till thwick-a-thwack, &c.
Cupid sits in one place of this forge, on his head a curld yellow haire, his eyes hid in lawne, a bow and quiver, his armour: wings at his backe; his body in light colours, a changeable silke mantle crossing it; golden and silver arrowes are ever and anone reached up to him, which hee shootes upward into the aire, and is still supplied with more from the forge.
On the top sits Jove, in a rich antique habite, a long white reverend hayre on his head, a beard long and curld: a mace of triple fire in his hand burning; who calling to Vulcan, this language passes betweene them.
Jove.
Ho, Vulcan.
Vul.
Stop your hammers: what ayles Jove?
We are making arrowes for my slip-string sonne.
Here, reach him those two dozen; I must now
A golden handle make for my wife's fann:
Worke, my fine Smugges.
Jove.
First heare: you shall not play,
The Fates would scold should you keepe holiday.
Vul.
What then?
Jove.
At th'anvile, and to dust their hammers beate,
To stuffe with thunder-bolts Jove's armoryes,
For vices (mountain-like) in black heapes rize.
My sinewes cracke to fell them. Ideot pride
Stalkes upon stilts; Ambition, by her side,
Climbing to catch starres, breakes her necke i'th'fall;
The gallant roares; roarers drinke oathes and gall;
The beggar curses; Avarice eates gold,
Yet ne're is fil'd; Learning's a wrangling scold;
Warre has a fatall hand; Peace, whorish eyes;
Shall not Jove beat downe such impieties?
Vulcan, for thee and thy tough hammer-men
To burne these broodes, who kill even with their names?
Vul.
Yes, Jove, 'tis more then time.
Jove.
Shall this great Troy, text up the memory
Of you her noble prætor, and all those
Your worthy brotherhood, through whose care goes
That rare rich prize of iron to the whole land,
Iron, farre more worth than Tagus' golden sand.
Hart of the earth! hand of the world! which fals
Heavy when it strikes home. By iron's strong charmes
Ryots lye bound. Warre stops her rough allarmes.
Iron, earthquakes strikes in foes: knits friends in love;
Iron's that maine hinge on which the world doth move;
No kingdomes globe can turne, even, smooth, and round,
But that his axletree in iron is found:
For armies wanting iron are puffes of wind,
And but for iron, who, thrones of peace would mind?
Were there no gold nor silver in the land,
Yet navigation, (which on iron does stand),
Could fetch it in. Gold's, darling to the sunne,
But iron, his hardy boy, by whom is done
More than the t'other dare. the merchant's gates
By iron barre out theevish assassinates:
Iron is the shop-keeper's both locke and kay;
What are your courts of guard when iron's away?
How would the corne pricke up her golden eares,
But that iron plough-shares all the labour beares
In earth's strange midwiffry? Brave iron! what praise
Deserves it! more 'tis beate, more it obeyes;
The more it suffers, more it smoothes offence;
In drudgery it shines with patience.
United to the twelve great companies:
A file inferiour. Yon's, the sunn's guilt hill,
On too't, Love guardes you on: Cyclopes, a ring
Make with your hammers, to whose musicke sing.
THE FIFT.
The fift presentation is called London's Tempe, or the Field of Happinesse; thereby reflecting upon the name of Campe-bell or Le Beu Champe, a faire and glorious field. It is an arbor supported by four great termes: on the four angles, or corners over the termes, are placed four pendants with armes in them.
It is round about furnished with trees and flowers: the upper part with severall fruites, intimating that as London is the best stored garden in the kingdome for plants, herbes, flowers, rootes, and such like; so, on this day it is the most glorious citty in the Christan world.
And therefore Tytan (one of the names of the sun) in all his splendor, with Flora, Ceres, Pomona, Ver, and Estas, are seated in this Tempe; on the top of all stands a lyon's head, being the Lord Maiors crest.
Tytan being the speaker, does in this language court his lordship to attention.
TYTAN
HIS SPEECH.
Whose beames to crowne this day, through clouds thus break.
My coach of beaten gold is set aside,
My horses to ambrosiall mangers tied;
Why is this done? why leave I mine own sphere?
But here to circle you for a whole yeare.
Embrace then Tytan's counsell:—now so guide
That all (to come hereafter) may with pride
Say, None like you did noblier quit the place;
Lower than now you are in fame, never fall;
Note me (the Sunne) who in my noone careere
Renders a shadow, short, or none at all;
And so, since Honor's zodiac is your sphere,
A shrub to you must be the tallest pine;
On poor and rich you equally must shine.
About those roomes you feast in; from her head
Flora her garlands pluck (being queene of flowers),
To dress your parlors up like summer's bowers.
Ceres lay golden sheaffes on your full boord;
With fruit, you from Pomona shall be stoard;
Whilst Ver and Estas (Spring and Summer), drive,
From this your Tempe, Winter, till he dive
I'th'frozen zone, and Tytan's radiant shield
Guard Campbel's Beauchampe, London's fairest field.
THE SIXTH AND LAST PRESENTATION.
This is called Apollo's pallace, because seven persons representing the seven liberal sciences are richly inthroned in this city. Those seven are in loose roabes of several cullors, with mantles according, and holding in their hands escutcheons, with emblems in them proper to every one quality.
The body of this worke is supported by twelve silver columnes; at the four angles of it, four pendants play with the wind; on the top is erected a square tower supported by four golden columnes, in every square is presented the embos'd antique head of an emperour,
Apollo is the chiefe person, on his head a garland of bayes, in his hand a lute. Some hypercriticall censurer perhaps will aske, why having Tytan, I should bring in Apollo, sithence they both are names proper to the sunne. But the youngest novice in poetry can answer for me, that the sunne when he shines in heaven is called Tytan, but being on earth (as he is here) we call him Apollo. Thus therefore Apollo tunes his voyce.
APOLLOES
SPEECH.
Apollo never stucke in admiration till now, my Delphos is removen hither, my oracles are spoken here; here the sages utter their wisdome, here the sybils their divine verses.
I see senators this day in scarlet riding to the capitoll, and to morrow the same men riding up and downe the field in armours, gowned citizens and warlike gownmen. The gunne here gives place, and the gowne takes the upper hand; the gowne and the gunne march in one file together.
Happy king that has such people, happy land in such a king! happy prætor so graced with honours! happy senators so obeyed by citizens, and happy citizens that can command such triumphes.
Go on in your full glories, whilst Apollo and these mistresses of the learned sciences waft you to that honorable shore whither Time bids you hasten to arrive.
A SPEECH AT NIGHT, AT TAKING LEAVE OF HIS LORDSHIP AT HIS GATE, BY OCEANUS.
After the glorious troubles of this day,
Night bids you welcome home; Night, who does lay
All pompe, all triumphs by, state now descends;
Here our officious trayne their service ends,
Albeit he has his dayes worke fully done,
Sits up above his houre, and does his best
To keep the starres from lighting you to rest.
Him will I take along to lay his head
In Tethys lap, Peace therefore guard your bedde;
In your yeares zodiacke may you fairely move,
Shin'd on by angels, blest with goodness, love.
Thus much his owne work cryes up the workman, (M. Gerard Chrismas) for his invention, that all the pieces were exact, and set forth lively with much cost. And this yeare gives one remarkable note to after times, that all the barges followed one another (every company in their degree,) in a stately and maiesticall order; this being the invention of a noble citizen, one of the captaines of the city.
| London's tempe | |