University of Virginia Library

Act III.

Scene I

Scene, a Magnificent Hall: A Banquet; at which sit The Duke, Duchess and Ladies &c, with Attendants.
Duke.
Why Florimel appear not at our Banquet
Seems somewhat strange: And the excuse she sends
Is so ambiguous, that 'twere hard to guess
Her real meaning.

Duchess.
And Fiducio too
Withholds his presence under the pretence
Of sudden illness: Yet I saw him walk
Under the Palm Trees of the Garden grove,
In shade too cool for sickness.

Duke.
Doubtless both
Have taken some offence; or mean to treat
Our self, or State, with markt indignity.—
But she is wayward—And Fiducio oft
Hath melancholly humours which sit dull
And heavy on his senses; cloud his brain,
And so perplex him with vain Phantasies.

Enter a Servant.
Servant.
A Youth with face of Hebe, & with voice
Soothing & gentle as the tend'rest Maid,
Of sweet demeanour, & of aspect mild,
Yet humbly vested as a Shepherd Swain,
With past'ral Crook, & Scrip, & Oaten-Pipe,
Waits at the Portal, & an entrance asks;
Begging You hear his unskill'd Minstrelsy.

Duke.
Admit the Youth—We'll hear this scarce-fledg'd Bird:
Perhaps his song may charm Us, or amuse.
His wild notes may excel the measur'd time,
In which nice Art attempts in vain to bind
The yet untaken soul of Harmony.

Enter Cupid, in a Shepherd's dress.
Duke.
Whence art thou Boy? & what thy name & trade?

Cupid.
Far in a Vale that winds below the hills,
On which 'tis said the Fairies oft descend,
And play their mid-night gambols on the green,
I tend my Father's Flock—Amyntor he,
Fidelio I am nam'd: a Shepherd Swain,
Who led by roving fancy hither came,
To see, what ne'er these eyes beheld before;
This goodly Palace, & this noble Train,
Of which I oft have heard—My Father askt,
Gave me full liberty to rove a while,
To play the Minstrel's part, & then return.

Duke.
Thou tellst an artless tale—& in thy looks
Sit sweet Content, & harmless Innocence.
Come then & breathe thy Pipe, or raise thy voice
Either belikes thee best: And let us taste
Of that delicious Draught that lulls the soul,
Or raises it to Extasy.—Begin!

Cupid
plays—then sings:
Song

Duke.
Urchin! thy song exceeds thy age, & state:
And much I wonder at the Ditty's frame.
Of whom didst learn it?

Cupid.
—Of the Fairy Queen.

Duke.
The Fairy Queen? Thy riddle Boy expound.

Cupid.
That will I gladly—'Tis for this I come:
'Tis to explain my Sonnet that I sang it.

Duke.
Be brief—for Expectation lends its ear.

Cupid.
Oft as I wander in the peaceful Vale,
Or climb the Mountain's top, or lay Me down
On the soft herbage at decline of Day;
I hear aërial notes of dulcet sound
That fill my soul with bliss, & fix each sense
In sweet forgetfulness, all but the Ear,
And that is charm'd to extasy.—I sleep,
And then such pleasing Phansies fill my brain,
That when I wake I strive to sleep again;
Wishing that such sleep would for aye endure.

Duke.
Why! thou art fairy-born, or fairy-led:
Or hath thy Nurse these vain tales told to thee,
And school'd thee in these rural Mysteries?

Cupid.
Ye little ween the high-born line I boast;
Or who my Mother is, or who Myself:
But Time shall give it utt'rance—hear Me on.
These are no housewife's tales, or Nurses dreams:
The Fairy Queen herself hath school'd me in them.
She, gentle Pow'r presided at my birth;
Fed Me with honey from the wild-Bee's store;
Washt Me in dew ambrosial—gave Me milk
Sweet as the fabled Nectar of the Gods:
And often pillow'd Me upon her breast,
Where I have lain, & slept, & dreamt of heav'n.
Sometimes on beds of Rose, & Hyacinth,
Sweet Marjoram & wild Thyme would She couch
Her dainty limbs, & on the mossy sod;
And leave behind her smells of sweet perfume;
Sweeter than Rose, or Vi'let, Thyme, or Balm:
So that I ever knew where She had lain:
And in the soft impression she had made
Upon the flow'ry Couch, I us'd to stretch
Myself in extasy—& felt such bliss,
Which, now relating, seem I to renew.

Duke.
Why this is coinage of wild Phantasy.
Were but thy stature higher—did thy chin
Put forth the bud of Manhood, I should say,
These are the transports of the madning brain
Of first-love stricken Youth.

Cupid.
Then further hear;
And see a sacred Token, which the Queen
(To prove the verity of what I speak)
Hath given to my care—Behold this Band!
[shewing the Cestus]
This sacred Girdle fraught with pow'rful charms:
Wove by the Graces in the Loom of Heav'n:
Inlaid with stars from out the Milky-Way.
The stud is Saphire, which chaste Dian gave
To ring the Bracelet from the precious Vest
That claspt the Virgin Purity herself.

Duke.
More Riddles still—If Dian were not nam'd,
I should suspect thee for that wanton Boy
Whom Venus calls her Son, tho' thus disguis'd.

Cupid.

Duchess.
Wonderful Girdle! truly.

Cupid.
Madam 'tis:
Please You first try its charm your Grace's self?

Duchess.
I do not deal in Amulets or charms;
They're of uncertain use, & doubtful virtue:
They prove but little save credulity.

Cupid.
Madam! this Cincture is not of such sort:
It doth contain the potency I warrant.

First Lady.
Then let me try its virtue—for my own
I trust will bear the strictest scrutiny.

Cupid.
Ere with this sacred Band your tender Waist
You venture to encircle, think what you risque.

1st Lady.
I'll try the Band—I never have offended.

[binds it on]
Enter the Fairy Queen unseen.
1st. Lady.
There Boy! behold how well it fits my body!

[The Fairy Queen unobserv'd, touches it: it flies off]
1st. Lady.
Why! it was on—& daintily did fit.

Cupid.
Aye, Madam! but it burst, & would not stay.

1st. Lady.
The Locket's faulty—It did loose itself.

Cupid.
The Locket's not imperfect—were you not,
The Cincture once lockt round your faultless waist,
Close as the Ivy to the parent Oak,
Or twisted Tendril round the spreading Vine
Implicitly would twine—nor ever loose,
Till urg'd by hand divine, or hand commission'd.

2d. Lady.
Give me the charm—I'll try if it befit
My unoffending waist—I warrant You
I'll try the Girdle's pow'r, & Locket's firmness.

Cupid.
Lady! the charge before, I now renew:
Think of the Girdle's Virtue, & your own.

2d. Lady.
I have,—& having thought, thus bind it on.
[binding it on]
There—it sits close as Ivy round the Oak,
And clasps Me like the tendril of the Vine.

[The Fairy Queen touches it—it flies off.]
2d. Lady.
Bless Me! I breath'd so hard I burst the Belt.

Cupid.
No! Lady!—Breath like yours can never burst it.
The Girdle is not faulty.

2d Lady.
Take the Bauble:
'Tis a meer trick to put Us all to shame.

1st. Attendant.
Please your Grace! let Me try this precious thing?
I'm sure I ne'er in thought, or word, or deed,
Offended 'gainst the law of Chastity.

Duchess.
Give her the Girdle—let her make the trial.

[Cupid gives her the Cestus]
[the moment the F. Queen touches it, it flies off]
1st. Attendant.
O! heavens! I swear I felt a Giant's hand
Squeeze almost close my ribs, & break the band:
I vow I did not do it.

[Cupid offers it to the 2d. Attendant]
Cupid.
Please you try?

2d. Attendant.
O! no: I fear a Giant.

[Offers it to a third]
3d. Attendant.
—So do I.—
But yet I'll make essay—how my hand shakes?
[trying & cannot lock it]
Ah! these are fears of maiden Modesty:
I'm always taken so when Men assail Me.—
I see how 'tis—The Charm has wond'rous pow'r.—
I've try'd enough: & giv'n sufficient proof
That only maiden fears prevent the clasping.

[returning the Cestus]
1st. Lady.
How should it fit a Mortal? he did say,
The Graces wove it in the Loom of heav'n.
'Tis only fit then for celestial Beings;
And let Celestials wear it—I despise it.

2d. Lady.
Aye! as the Graces were employ'd to make it,
'Tis therefore fitting only Venus' self,
Or some such wanton Pow'r—We are abus'd.

1st. Attendt.
Yes!—& he said the Stars were milk, & whey:
I wonder We believ'd him, & made trial.

2d. Attendt.
The Urchin further said, that Dian gave
Her Saphire for the Locket—would a Goddess,
More than a Mortal, part with such fine things
To such a Boy as this? & run the chance
To lose the Locket, & the Bracelet too?
I'll not beleive it—No—I'll not beleive it.

Cupid.
Beleive Ye All, & think whate'er You please:
The Girdle holds the sacred pow'r I boast.—
Lady! perhaps a waist may yet be found,
To prove the verity of what I vouch.
Is there no other Fair One who may try
Its potency & Merit?

Duke.
—Well remember'd—
Call Florimel—& let her try the charm:
If it prove false on her, why, I shall think
He mocks Us with this Cestus; & is sent
By some swart Fairy to impose on Us:
Or that a Fairy's self this quaint game plays,
As oft they do on Fairy-Holy-Days.

Duchess.
Here comes the Lady.

Cupid.
—Hail! thou gentle Fair!
His Grace has sent for You to try this band.
Potent its charm & pow'r—It surely proves
(If it abide unloossen'd round the Waist,
After it once embrace that charming round)
The Chastity of her whose waist it binds:
And proves, in thought, word, deed, She ne'er offended.
'Tis Venus' Girdle, wrought by hands devine;
And lent by Dian—who, for precious purpose,
Sent by the Fairy Queen, directs it hither.—
Perhaps You will essay the Girdle's power?

Florimel.
Faultless in deed, & word, & very thought!
The Trial is above our mortal state.

Cupid.
Lady! I pray be not discomfitted:
More hazardous the trial, more the glory,
If, after trial, conquest crown the deed.

Florimel.
Tho' I have never swerv'd in love or duty
Towards my plighted Lord—nor ever thought
Of any He but him to wed & love;
Yet, like the Light'ning's glare (but that I know not)
Some sudden glance might (I unconscious now)
Have shot across my wayward Phantasy.
And tho' with nicest care, like new-made Garment,
I've kept unsun'd my Robe of Chastity;
Some Moth might thither unperceived steal,
And soil this gracious Mantle.—Good, my Lord!
Let it not then be thought the voice of fear,
Or trembling Conscience that I shun the test:
But that I would not wantonly appear,
To urge the trial, in full confidence,
That I, unlike all Mortals, ne'er offended.

Duke.
If thy pure Spirit never hath offended,
Why leave thy fair fame open to the shaft
Of aiming Envy? or licentious tongue
Of foul Suspicion? when, by present trial,
Thou hast nought to hazard, & so much to gain.

Cupid.
Faint not fair Lady! in thy good resolves;
But try the Girdle: For as oft 'tis seen
That frontless Guilt assume the port of Virtue;
So the chaste fear that keeps Us from offence,
Will sometimes lead Us to suspect Ourselves,
The heart yet pure, & thoughts immaculate.
Beseech You make the trial.

Florimel.
—Give the Band!—
[Takes it—after a pause]
Chaste Goddess of the Woods! & silent Night!
Stop my rash hand with unperceived stay;
Or stop the vital current in my veins,
Rather than suffer Me to make the trial
Which my firm faith, & truth cannot abide.—
[after a long pause]
No secret hand witholding,—I obey:
And thus I gird Me with this sacred Band.

[pulling on the Cestus]
[The Fairy Queen, & Cupid try it on each side.]
Cupid.

Florimel.
Me it beseems not, in this splendid Crown,
To boast of this well-fitting Annulet;
Seeing it proves but what I ought to be:
And what ten-thousand more with me may boast;
Unshaken faith, pure love, & Chastity.

F. Queen.
Now it behoves Me to reveal Myself.

[aside]
Cupid.
Lady! thy speech befits thee like the Zone
For Modesty is ever the bright stone
That gems the ring of Merit & of Virtue.

[Enter The Fairy Queen in a richly ornamented Robe] All appear astonish'd.
Cupid
Wonder not at th'Appearance of this Form!
The Fairy Queen herself now stands before You.

F. Queen.

[Enter Sir Guyon, attended by Fiducio.]
Sir Guyon.
First, noble Duke! in duty bound, I bow
Before Your Grace—& Madam next to You,
[To the Duchess]
And to this goodly Circle.—Now my heart
May be allow'd to pour its transports forth
On the dear hand of this approved Fair.

[taking, & kissing Florimel's hand]
F. Queen.
Forbear these Raptures! till thou stand approv'd
As the fit Partner for this honor'd Maid.

Sir Guyon.
Soft Power! I will obey—& yield Myself
To the keen question of approving Trial.

F. Queen.

Sir Guyon.
Imperial Dame! I have—Thy potent aid
Lent to my arm its nerve, & crown'd the conquest.

F. Queen.
In brief recite thy conflicts in our presence;
That on the brow of Merit we may bind
The palmy Crown of Victory.—First of Sloth.—

Sir Guyon.
After long toil & pain, I sought Repose:
Left the wild Forrest where I oft had lain
Upon my Mother Earth, beset with Dangers.
At length a moss-grown Roof, beneath a Rock,
Appear'd midst tangl'd boughs of unprun'd Trees.
This house, if house it might be call'd, I enter'd.
The Portal was o'ergrown with thorns pernicious
That almost bar'd my entrance—enter'd in
I found a spacious Hall—Scatter'd around,
In careless heaps of ruin, fragments lay
Of yet unfinisht work—Rich Tap'stry hung
With antique shapes inwrought around the Chamber,
O'er which Arachne spread her subtle Net.
Upon a Couch of down I saw reclin'd
An uncooth Wight, huge, cumbersome, & bloated.
An half-drain'd Bowl of Wine stood by the Couch,
Within his reach; which, ever, & anon,
Waking he tasted, & again sunk down
To indolent Repose. Him with my Spear,
By unoffensive touch, I strove to wake:
When instantly the Caitif rous'd from slumber,
And leapt upon Me—in his potent grasp
Encircling Me around—When straight I felt
A sudden torpor run thro' all my veins
Enfeebling ev'ry pow'r—And much I wisht
To quaff his Bowl, & press his Bed of down.
When, strange to sense! thro' all my curdling blood
A pow'r diffus'd—My spirits I regain'd;
And struggling, threw the Carle upon the ground:
Where 'stound he lay—I left him in the swoon.

F. Queen.
The pow'r then felt was Mine—'tis heav'n alone
Gives strength for such encounters—But proceed.

Sir Guyon.
I onward sped my way—& passing through
Another such Pavilion, left the place
Escaping at the Postern. With new strength,
Gain'd by this new encounter, on I presst
And at the close of Day, thro' winding paths
On each side deckt with flow'rs, I urg'd my steps.
Birds sang on every branch—the Winds were husht,
Save the soft whisper of the Evening breeze:
While perfum'd sweets 'gan every where to breathe
This Paradise around.—When lo! appear'd
A stately Edifice of wondrous Art:
“It framed was of precious Ivory;
“And on the Jasper Columns was ingrav'd,
“In rarest workmanship, the history
“Of Iason & Medea—Argos stood,
At proper distance, prominent in gold:
And the fam'd Euxine seem'd to lift its waves
“Of shining Crystal.—In the Porch did sit,
“With divers flow'rs daintily bedeckt,
“A comely Personage, of stature tall:
“In his right hand a Mazer Bowl he held;
“And courted Strangers to its fatal taste.
“His Chalice I rejected, pressing on
I past the Portal.

F. Queen.
Enter'd, what appear'd?

Sir Guyon.

F. Queen.
The syren Pleasure thus o'ercome, say next,
What other Perils hadst Thou to encounter?

Sir Guyon.

F. Queen.
I wellcome thy Return—& give my blessing.
Toils such as thine O! Fairy Son! deserve
The palm of Vict'ry.—Dangers now are past:
Thy race of Glory run, behold the Goal!
And this, the fair Reward of all thy Toils.
Take Her—& know, a richer never yet
The Gods have giv'n, or can Man receive.

[giving him Florimel's hand]
Sir Guyon.
As such I take it—vowing on this hand,
By tenderness, & love, to merit it.—

Duke.
Most gracious Queen! Permit Me, in thy presence,
To ask forgiveness of this peerless Maid:
[to Florimel]
And Madam! next of you [to the Duchess]
I, for a while,
Forgot my state, & Duty—sin'd in thought:
But now, recover'd from the mazy Error,
Like one but fresh awake from dreadful dreams,
I strive to recollect my former State,
To know what then I was, & what I should be.

F. Queen.
I know it all—& and tho' you are not blameless;
Yet 'twas decreed, Her Virtue should be try'd.

Duchess.
Since things are so decreed—& so we trespass;
That pardon You receive as I expect,
Should my feet slip upon Temptation's ice.
Come, my good Lord! the vows we ne'er have broke,
Let Us both jointly swear we never will;
And, in one even tenor, let us round
The circle of our duty.

Duke.
—Let Resolve,
On either part, supply the form of oath.

Florimel.
O! let Me breathe my pray'r on your Resolves:
I pardon the offence that try'd my Virtue.

Duke.
Excellent Florimel! accept my thanks!
Receive my blessing, warmer from the heart,
Than was the wish that offer'd the offence.

Cupid.
I'll swear for All—& truly I've a Charm
Will do, instead of formal oath, or promise.

F. Queen.
Indeed he has—I know his powerful spell.

Duke.
What spell hath this same Yonker then to boast?
Fain would I know him, & his high pretensions.

Cupid.
Briefly you shall—I'll slough this skin of guile,
And soon inform You, who, & what I am.
Exit Cupid.

Duchess.
This little Sphynx will now expound his riddle.
And clear the Mystery that hung around him.

Duke.
His 'haviour o'ertops his seeming state.
The rude husk slipt, I fancy we shall find,
A Nut of rarest quality within.

Duchess.
So fancy I.—I think we soon shall see
This little Bug slip skin, & shake his wings.

[Cupid Re-enters in his proper dress.]
Duchess.
New feathers make new Birds—Is this the Linnet
That charm'd Us with his song in russet Plumes?
He now appears the Bird of Paradise.

Cupid.
Madam! the same.—Now moulted are those plumes,
Of russet hue; & I appear Myself,
To give my benediction to this Pair.—
You see before You now—The God of Love.

Duchess.
Wonderful change! just Sir! what you suspected.

Duke.
I thought that under those grey plumes was hid
A Bird of choicest feather, note, & Name.

F. Queen.
Our Drama then is finisht.—Nought but joy
Should now ride triumph on each friendly heart:
Let Us all join to gratulate this Pair.

Sir Guyon.
First let Me gratulate my noble Friend
And thank him, from my soul, for kindness shewn,
While I was absent, to this charming Maid.

Fiducio.
This moment gives Me the reward I ask:
For, in your happiness, I find my own.

[To Florimel, & Sir Guyon]
Duke.
We all rejoice.—Sir Guyon! Florimel!
Deign to make this your Court, to solemnize
Your festival of Bliss—We'll play the Host
While You preside at Cupid's feast of Love.

Cupid.

Exeunt Omnes.