 | The Mask of the Four Seasons |  |
Genius, or the Countryes better Angell, wrapt in amazement at
some happy changes he observes in his Soyle and Clymate, begins
the entertainment wt
h his first Entry.
Genius.
What mean these præparations in ye ayre,
proclaimeing some great welcome? all soe fayre,
the dogstar bites not! and the parching heat
that lately chapt our feilds, sweet showres, that beat
on the earth's teeming bosome, have allay'd:
the earth in robes of a new Spring arayde,
seems proude of some late gueste: the days are clear
as had tyme, from all seasons of ye year,
extracted forth theyr quintessence. In mee,
this countryes Genius, the sweet harmony
of all the elements (that have conspir'd
to blesse our soyle and clymate) hath inspir'd
a fresher soule. But soft! what doo I see?
Beuty join'd hand in hand with Majesty?
Mars and ye Queen of Love? Sure, tis not they.
I see noe wanton glances, but a raye
like bright Diana's smiles; and in his face
a grave aspect, like Jove's, taking his place
amidst heavns counsellors: nor are those twayn
yonge Cupids: they have eys, and I in vayne
guesse at yon fresher beauty then ye Spring,
or smooth-fac't Hebe. Let sweet Orpheus sing
unto his well tun'd lyre, yt they may see
they're truly welcome here, whoe ere they bee.
Orpheus
enters wt h this Song.
Genius.
I'me sung into my sences, but nought might,
like Majesty or Beuty, dazle sight:
bee that my just excuse. Now let mee show
what welcome for my country's sake I owe
to these her blessings. Backward shall ye year
runne in his course; ye Seasons shall apear
each wt h theyr proper dantyes; Winter shall,
as for his age preferd, bring first of all
his full, though grosser dishes; let them be
th'expression of our entertainement, free,
though not soe fine. Yet thus much lett mee say,
there is noe danger in them, but you may
feareles tast where you please, they're all our own;
noe dish whose tast or dressing is unknown
unto our natives: neighbouring mountains yeald
us goats, and in ye next adjoining feilds
pasture our muttons: if there bee a buck
turnd into venison, that was likewise struck
on our owne lawnes: of whatsoere is more,
wee serve in noe strange dish, but [our] owne store.
This speech ended, Winter ushers in ye first course, wc h having ordered upon ye table, turnes to ye Company.
Winter.
Not to detaine you longer from your fare,
to tell you more then welcome, welcome y'are:
welcome, with all my hart. More can't be spoak;
a fuller word then welcome is would choak.
[An old man: if you hear more, hear grace.
The first Course taken away, Orpheus ushers Autumne, with the second: hee presents a bakemeat in one hand, and wyne in ye other, being ye fruits of Ceres and Bacchus, properly belonging to Autumne, in whose name Orpheus sings.
[Exeunt.
The second Course taken away, Orpheus enters again, bringing in Summer, and the frutes of her Season, wt h this Song.
[Exeunt.
The last of Orpheus songs is in ye person of ye Spring, whoe brings in ye bason and ewer.
[Exeunt.
After supper is ended, and ye tables taken away, Enters
Genius.
Heres not enough of mirth. I warne t'appear
Once more the Seasons of ye year.
Let musique strike, and you shall see
old Winters full of jollity:
Autumne is Bacchus darling, and
soe joyd, perchance hee can not stand:
the other livelyer Seasons shall,
show you theyr pastimes festivall,
how usually they doe themselves bestirre
on May day, and the feast of Midsommer.
This Speech ended, enter Winter.
Winter is old, yet would he fain
this fayr assembly entertain
to his best powre; but should he try,
he feares it were not worth your ey.
His cold stiffe limbs are most unfit,
although his heart be merry yet,
his long nights jovially to spend
with cups and tales to pleas his friend.
Let not your expectations runne
further; his dancing days are done:
yet if hee soe may satisfie,
by some quicke yongster to supply
his place, hee Christmas Gamboles pickes,
to entertain you wt h his trickes.
1. Then enters Gamboles, dancing a single Anticke wt h a forme.
2. After him, Autumne brings in his Anticke of drunkards.
3. Summer followes, wt h a country dance of heymakers or reapers.
4. The last is a morrice dance, brought in by ye Spring.
Genius.
What mean these præparations in ye ayre,
proclaimeing some great welcome? all soe fayre,
the dogstar bites not! and the parching heat
that lately chapt our feilds, sweet showres, that beat
on the earth's teeming bosome, have allay'd:
the earth in robes of a new Spring arayde,
seems proude of some late gueste: the days are clear
as had tyme, from all seasons of ye year,
extracted forth theyr quintessence. In mee,
this countryes Genius, the sweet harmony
of all the elements (that have conspir'd
to blesse our soyle and clymate) hath inspir'd
a fresher soule. But soft! what doo I see?
Beuty join'd hand in hand with Majesty?
Mars and ye Queen of Love? Sure, tis not they.
I see noe wanton glances, but a raye
like bright Diana's smiles; and in his face
a grave aspect, like Jove's, taking his place
amidst heavns counsellors: nor are those twayn
yonge Cupids: they have eys, and I in vayne
guesse at yon fresher beauty then ye Spring,
or smooth-fac't Hebe. Let sweet Orpheus sing
144
they're truly welcome here, whoe ere they bee.
Orpheus
enters wt h this Song.
Canst thou in judgment bee soe slow,
as those ritch beautyes not to know?
look on those eys, and sure theyr shine
will give more clearnes unto thine.
as those ritch beautyes not to know?
look on those eys, and sure theyr shine
will give more clearnes unto thine.
These, the fayr causes of our mirth,
shall in esteem our barren earth
equall with theyrs, whose lofty eys,
our higher mountaines heer despise.
shall in esteem our barren earth
equall with theyrs, whose lofty eys,
our higher mountaines heer despise.
See how the heavnes smile on our land,
and plenty stretch her opened hand,
enritching us wt h hearts content,
civility and government.
and plenty stretch her opened hand,
enritching us wt h hearts content,
civility and government.
Wee in our country, that in us,
both happy are, and prosperous;
and of our youth noe more made poore,
shall find ye Court ev'n at our dore.
both happy are, and prosperous;
and of our youth noe more made poore,
shall find ye Court ev'n at our dore.
Genius.
I'me sung into my sences, but nought might,
like Majesty or Beuty, dazle sight:
bee that my just excuse. Now let mee show
what welcome for my country's sake I owe
to these her blessings. Backward shall ye year
runne in his course; ye Seasons shall apear
each wt h theyr proper dantyes; Winter shall,
as for his age preferd, bring first of all
his full, though grosser dishes; let them be
th'expression of our entertainement, free,
145
there is noe danger in them, but you may
feareles tast where you please, they're all our own;
noe dish whose tast or dressing is unknown
unto our natives: neighbouring mountains yeald
us goats, and in ye next adjoining feilds
pasture our muttons: if there bee a buck
turnd into venison, that was likewise struck
on our owne lawnes: of whatsoere is more,
wee serve in noe strange dish, but [our] owne store.
This speech ended, Winter ushers in ye first course, wc h having ordered upon ye table, turnes to ye Company.
Winter.
Not to detaine you longer from your fare,
to tell you more then welcome, welcome y'are:
welcome, with all my hart. More can't be spoak;
a fuller word then welcome is would choak.
[An old man: if you hear more, hear grace.
The first Course taken away, Orpheus ushers Autumne, with the second: hee presents a bakemeat in one hand, and wyne in ye other, being ye fruits of Ceres and Bacchus, properly belonging to Autumne, in whose name Orpheus sings.
Your beautyes, ladyes, far more bright
and sweet then Phœbus clearest light,
have sooner far fetcht Autumne heer
then all his smiles throughout ye year.
Though wt h his rayes
and fayrest days,
and wt h serenest view,
hee courts mee heer,
yet I appear,
but to attend on you.
and sweet then Phœbus clearest light,
have sooner far fetcht Autumne heer
then all his smiles throughout ye year.
Though wt h his rayes
and fayrest days,
and wt h serenest view,
hee courts mee heer,
146
but to attend on you.
And, being come, I hold it scorne
to welcome you wt h meer bare corne;
here's Ceres in a new attire,
and ripned wt h a second fire.
Cut up and find
how shee is lind;
for to entertaine you
here's Bacchus blood,
to digest your food;
why then, doe not refraine you.
to welcome you wt h meer bare corne;
here's Ceres in a new attire,
and ripned wt h a second fire.
Cut up and find
how shee is lind;
for to entertaine you
here's Bacchus blood,
to digest your food;
why then, doe not refraine you.
[Exeunt.
The second Course taken away, Orpheus enters again, bringing in Summer, and the frutes of her Season, wt h this Song.
Summer was offring sacrifice
unto ye Sunne, but from your eys
perceiving far a clearer light,
ladyes, hee gives them to your sight;
and ritcher paiment doth hee find
from your breaths then the Southern wind.
unto ye Sunne, but from your eys
perceiving far a clearer light,
ladyes, hee gives them to your sight;
and ritcher paiment doth hee find
from your breaths then the Southern wind.
As Autumnes clusters ripned bee
by neighbouring grapes maturity,
soe from your lips his cherryes, heer,
take sweetnes, and theyr colour clear.
Noe marvell, then, yt as your due
they thus present themselves to you:
all other fruites his season yealde[s]
are yours, himself, his trees, his feilds.
by neighbouring grapes maturity,
soe from your lips his cherryes, heer,
take sweetnes, and theyr colour clear.
Noe marvell, then, yt as your due
they thus present themselves to you:
all other fruites his season yealde[s]
are yours, himself, his trees, his feilds.
[Exeunt.
The last of Orpheus songs is in ye person of ye Spring, whoe brings in ye bason and ewer.
The nightingale, ye larke, ye thrush doe sing,
and all to welcome in ye Spring.
The warme blood in ye veynes
doth hop about and dance,
and new life's in evry thing.
and all to welcome in ye Spring.
147
doth hop about and dance,
and new life's in evry thing.
The yong men they doe likewise court theyr lovers,
whilst them theyr lusty warme blood mooves;
but unto you ye Spring
doth [raise] her voyce and sing,
and her self your lover prooves.
whilst them theyr lusty warme blood mooves;
but unto you ye Spring
doth [raise] her voyce and sing,
and her self your lover prooves.
Shee not presents you heer wt
h simple flowres,
but with sweet distilled showres:
theyr very quintessence,
most pleasing to ye sence,
extracted from them forth shee powres.
but with sweet distilled showres:
theyr very quintessence,
most pleasing to ye sence,
extracted from them forth shee powres.
Add sweet to sweet, and wash your lilly hands:
The Spring shall be at your commands.
Nought could have brought back heer
ye Spring tide [of] ye year,
Save you, fayr blessings of our land,
To whom thus wt h a wish shee bids Adieu.
Spring, youth, and beuty, still attend on you.
The Spring shall be at your commands.
Nought could have brought back heer
ye Spring tide [of] ye year,
Save you, fayr blessings of our land,
To whom thus wt h a wish shee bids Adieu.
Spring, youth, and beuty, still attend on you.
[Exeunt.
After supper is ended, and ye tables taken away, Enters
Genius.
Heres not enough of mirth. I warne t'appear
Once more the Seasons of ye year.
Let musique strike, and you shall see
old Winters full of jollity:
Autumne is Bacchus darling, and
soe joyd, perchance hee can not stand:
the other livelyer Seasons shall,
show you theyr pastimes festivall,
148
on May day, and the feast of Midsommer.
This Speech ended, enter Winter.
Winter is old, yet would he fain
this fayr assembly entertain
to his best powre; but should he try,
he feares it were not worth your ey.
His cold stiffe limbs are most unfit,
although his heart be merry yet,
his long nights jovially to spend
with cups and tales to pleas his friend.
Let not your expectations runne
further; his dancing days are done:
yet if hee soe may satisfie,
by some quicke yongster to supply
his place, hee Christmas Gamboles pickes,
to entertain you wt h his trickes.
1. Then enters Gamboles, dancing a single Anticke wt h a forme.
2. After him, Autumne brings in his Anticke of drunkards.
3. Summer followes, wt h a country dance of heymakers or reapers.
4. The last is a morrice dance, brought in by ye Spring.
| The Mask of the Four Seasons | |