University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

A Dance by Discord and the Furies.
Exeunt all.
The Scene is chang'd to a pleasant Landschape of a flowrie Mountain, &c. Juno, Pallas and Venus enter, attended by Iris and many Nymphs; the Goddesses lay their hands on a Garland of Laurel, Bayes and Myrtle.—It Thunders and Lightens.—
[All this Scene is spoken.]
Juno.
Our Sacred Union all the Gods approve,
And send this thundring message from above,
To grace the Sister and the Wife of Jove.
Iris my swift Embassadress, be gone,
Clap thy light wings and shining colours on,
And let our Union round the world be known.

Iris.
Great Queen of Gods, and Empress of the Skies,
Whose fair plum'd team adorn'd with Argus eyes,
Eclipse the splendour of my brightest Dyes:
My painted Throne with watry Clouds I'le build,
Which with more various colours shall be fill'd,
Then flowrie Springs, or gaudy Summers yield.
When wondring Mortals from their houses run,
To see my Glories far out-shine the Sun,
The will of Royal Juno shall be known.

Juno.
Rich Embassies the wills of Kings declare:
What then should mine, to whom great Monarchs are
Like twinkling Glow-worms to the Morning-Star?

(Juno and Iris seem to talk together.
Venus.
Is this the Union, this the equal sway?
I'le rather Fate's than Juno's pow'r obey:
The will of Royal Juno—
And is not Venus worthy of a name?
My Beautie's greater, and as great my Fame.

Pallas.
Fair Queen of Love, let not the rash mistake
Of that untutor'd Maid a diff'rence make;
My honour is an equal suff'rer made,
And with your fame shall Pallas shine or fade:
But let not Passion be too fast obey'd.
Passion commits more crimes then it can find,
It shakes the soul like a tempestuous wind;
The Senses slave, but Tyrant of the mind.

Venus.
Sister of much-lov'd Mars, Goddess of Arms,
Thy Prudence conquers whom thy Beauty warms,
I yield as all must to thy pow'rfull charms.

Pallas.
Juno does private pow'r in vain pursue,
While Beauties Goddess is to Pallas true;
Beauty and Wit the highest pow'rs subdue.

Juno,
to Iris
Thou dost the full of our great purpose know,
Ascend and from thy party-colour'd bow,
Proclaim it to the list'ning world below.
Exit Iris.
Now Fate, deluded mortals shall no more
Dread thy feign'd Laws, and thy fantastick pow'r,
But with glad hearts our sacred Shrines adore.
Our Rites were lost, our Temples were prophan'd,
No Praise or Sacrifice our Altars gain'd,
No pow'r, forsooth, could change what Fate ordain'd.

Pallas.
So far this wild Imposture has been hurl'd,
Gypsies and Star-gazers command the world.

Venus.
Th'are Fate's Viceroys, dispose of ev'ry heart;
From Sacred Love the giddy Youth depart,
And marry by the Stars:—vain rules of Art.

Juno.
Juno's not call'd to kindle Hymen's fire,
And bless the Nuptial-bed with chast desire,
But Fate with Avarice base knots conspire.

Pallas.
Then bloudy Discord with a Hellish throng
Of Furies, houl the Hymeneal Song,
And make the hated Marriage-night seem long.

Juno.
They rise, seek lawless Love in sev'ral rooms,
And cry, Alas! who can avoid their dooms?
Thus rigid Fate a gentle Bawd becomes.

Venus.
Then with unhallow'd breath they spot my name,
And on my Innocence would lay their shame;
I cherish none but chast and virtuous flame.

Juno.
The lazie drone lies stretch'd upon the floor,
Cries, Destiny compels him to be poor:
He lyes,—What am not I the Queen of Pow'r?

Pallas.
The wild debauch 'gainst Heav'n makes open War,
And lays his crimes upon his harmless Star,
As if that caus'd that did the guilt declare.

Juno.
Mankind no more in slav'ry shall remain,
Long banish'd Justice shall to Earth again,
And Vertue o're insulting Fate shall reign
I'le give her pow'r unlimited to share
The highest blessings of the Field or Chair,
Among the good, the painfull, chast and fair.

Pall.
Prudence I'le give, and an enlighten'd mind,
To teach her where she may be wisely kind.

Ven.
Beauty I'le give in blooming youth enshrin'd;
Beauty which Monarchs more than Empire prize,
Which makes the Hero brave, and States-man wise;
For which the wretched lives, and happy dies.

Juno.
Fortune shall still command the ign'rant Fool,
But those that live in spotless Virtue's School,
O're the severest Destiny shall rule.

Enter Iris.
Iris.
Hail mighty Queens of conquer'd Fate.

Juno.
Quickly thy progress and success relate.

Iris.
No sooner from my arched Throne,
Which with unusual Beauties shone,
Did I Fate's sudden fall proclaim,
But ev'ry word by greedy Fame
Was to a thousand ecchoes sent,
And posted through each Element;
Like Lightning 'twas dispers'd a-round,
And Thunder eccho'd from the ground:
Such joyfull shouts were upward sent,
As shook Heav'ns lofty battlement:
My painted bow their vigour felt,
And to a pearlie show'r did melt.
Heark! the impatient Crowd draws near,
[Musick heard.
To let their hasty joys appear;
Two of Fate's notorious cheats,
About the Mount the Rabble beats.

Juno.
In yond bright cloud conceal'd let's lye,
While the rejoycing Crowd pass by.

Exeunt omnes.
After a flourish of Violins, Rechorders, Flajolets, &c. an Astrologer with a Globe in his hand, and a Fortune-telling woman enter, pursu'd by Shepherds and Shepherdesses.
Chorus
of Shepherds and Shepherdesses, to which all Dance, and drive off the Astrologer and woman.
Be gone you Deluders, your Traffick is o're,
Your Figures and Canting shall cheat us no more.

Song by a Shepherdess.
Come, come away,
To solemnize this happy day;
With joyfull cries
Let's rend the skies,
For Fortune's fall is Virtue's rise.

Chorus
of all with Musick.
Come, come away, &c.

2 Shepherdess
sings.
Sing, sing aloud,
And you that love the coy or proud,
No more complain,
But chuse again,
For Fate must yield to Virtue's reign.

Chorus.
Sing, sing aloud, &c.

Song by a Shepherd.
Fortune's a drab, though the fool and the knave
Proclaim her a Goddess, and Court her;
Because they deserve not the blessings they have,
They think the blind Quean their supporter:
But the wise and the brave
Still make her a slave,
They laugh at her frowns and her favour,
And now the deceiver
Is ruin'd for ever,
Her Cracks and her Cullies shall leave her.
The Jilt to her own rouling-wheel shall be ty'd,
And the three Fatal Sisters be hang'd in their thread.

Chorus.
The Jilt, &c.

A Dance by a Shepherd alone.
Song by a Shepherd.

A Dance by a Shepherdess alone.
A Song by a Shepherd and Shepherdess.
Shepherd.
Joy sits smiling on each brow,
In each dimpl'd cheek's a furrow,
Made by mirth to bury sorrow;
All are happy,—All are happy now,
Only Celia's cruel, cruel, cruel eye,
Dooms Amintor still to dye.

1 Shep.
Poor Amintor's doom'd to dye.

2-
Poor Amintor's doom'd to dye.

3-
Poor Amintor's doom'd to dye.

All Shep. Chorus.
Only Celia's, &c.

Shepherdess.
Oh Amintor hide thy pains,
If thy tempting tongue had won me,
Lawless passion had undone me,
Sacred Virtue,—Sacred Virtue reigns.
All that Virtue, All that Virtue grants I'le give,
For thy hopeless love I'le grieve,

1 Shep.
And Amintor still shall live.

2-.
Celia bids Amintor live.

3-.
Celia bids, &c.

Chorus.
All that Virtue, &c.

Shepherd.
Then the longing eyes may gaze,
In each others beams uniting,
And the trembling hands uniting,
Break not Virtues,—Break not Virtues Laws.
Chastest Vestals, Chastest Vestals thus may kiss,
Thus may Saints repeat their bliss,

1 Shep.
Virtue will not blush at this.

2-
Virtue will, &c.

3-
Virtue will, &c.

Chorus.
Chastest Vestals, &c.

Shepherdess.
Hold, fond Shepherd, keep thy vow,
Love deny'd 's an humble waiter,
But a bold insulting traytor,
When the Virtuous,—when the Virtuous bow.
Dear Amintor, Dear Amintor pray give o're,
Celia cannot grant thee more,
Alas she would but has not pow'r.

1 Shep.
Virtue, makes thy Celia poor.

2-
Virtue, &c.

3-
Virtue, &c.

Chorus.
Dear Amintor, &c.

A Dance to the following Song, the Rechorders and Flajolets playing.
Song.

The three Furies rise up in the middle of them, and fright them all off:—Then the Furies dance,—& Exeunt.
Enter Juno, Pallas and Venus, embracing: Discord enters observing them.
[Discord speaks this.]
Now injur'd Fate thy gloomy den forsake,
Raise all thy forces from the Stygian Lake;
Thy foes are mighty, and thy Crown's the stake.
Burning Ambition and revengefull Pride,
Heart-gnawing Envy, and all ill beside,
Attend, and Hell and Furies be your guide.
Discord throws the Golden Apple, which the Goddesses strive for, and go off.
Hoh, ho, ho, hoe, 'tis done, 'tis done:
Methinks I see the frighted world look pale,
And Nature to her secret mansion crawl,
As if she fear'd an everlasting fall.
To Ida's Mount the striving pow'rs retire,
Prophetick Spirits my hot brains inspire,
And swell my thoughts with ruine, blood and fire.
Venus obtains the prize from Priam's Son:
Good, good, then Rapes and Murthers shall be done,
Whose stories shall make future Ages groan.
Now Fate, let thy tormenting Furies rest,
Since my wild Empire's fix'd in ev'ry breast,
The Goddesses themselves shall do the rest.
Virtue shall into several factions fall;
Strictness, Pride; Freedom, it shall Looseness call:
Where Discord raigns, swift ruine swallows all.

Exit Discord.
Musick plays.
Enter Paris and Oenone, crown'd with Garlands of Flowers, with Sheep-hooks in their hands, attended by Shepherds and Shepherdesses.
Song in Dialogue.
Paris.
Tell me dearest Oenone,
Why such sadness clouds my Sun;
A pearly deluge from thy eyes,
Spreads thy rosie cheeks around,
Where poor Cupid mourning lyes,
To see his World of beauty drown'd.

Oenone.
Oh my Paris, Oh my Swain,
Thou darling of the flow'ry Plain,
I fear—But Ah my grief's too much to speak,
I fear, I fear my swelling heart will break.

Paris.
Has the fierce Woolf devour'd a bleating Lamb,
Or robb'd the Fondling of his Dam?

Oenone.
Ah!—no, those losses are
Which changing time or prudent care
Would soon repair.

Paris.
Say what does thy heart invade,
I conjure thee, charming Maid,
By those secret Bowers,
Which the twining Myrtles shade;
By those banks of flowers,
Where our sacred vows were made;
By the Spring, and by the Grove,
And by the soft delights of Love.

Oenone.
Among the sweets this Garland bears,
Say which the greatest glory wears.

Paris.
That—
Whose bright leaves round yellow seeds are grown,
Like sparkling Gems about a Golden Crown.

Oenone.
That does my sudden sorrow move,
It will I fear thy Emblem prove,
That gaudy flower's call'd Shepherd's Love.
How far his sweet perfumes do spread,
How proudly shines his painted head:
A dazling Crown's less gay then this,
And that excels Arabian Spice.

Chorus.
How far, &c.
How proudly, &c.
A dazling, &c.
And that, &c.

Paris.
My Shepherdess more glorious shews,
And sweeter breath perfumes her vows.

Oenone.
But e're yond' Sun the world survey,
And chase a second night away,
This glory of the Spring will fade,
And shrink into perpetual shade.

Paris.
His stalk will stoop,

Oenone.
His head will droop,

Paris.
His fragrant scents will fly;

Oenone.
His beauteous leaves no more will shine,

Paris.
But this proud Shepherds love will die,

Oenone.
And so alas, and so I fear will thine.

Paris.
The Sun shall be fix'd, the Earth shall remove,
But never shall Paris be false to his Love.

Oenone.
And will you always be thus kind to me?

Paris.
By all those powers that our actions see
I will.—

Oenone.
Yet! yet! yet you may deceive.

Paris.
O cruel! will you ne're believe?

Oenone.
I do, I do, and will no longer grieve.

Paris.
We'l love while we live, and we'l live without care,
Together we'l dye, and we'l make but one Star,
To which happy Lovers shall offer their pray'r.

Chorus
of all Voices and Instruments.
We'l love, &c.
Together, &c.
To which, &c.

A Dance.
Enter Iris and speaks to Paris.
Iris.
Hail thou most beauteous youth, hail Princely Swain!
Thou pride of Shepherds, glory of the Plain!
The motto on this Golden Apple writ,
Three pow'rfull Goddesses at strife has set;
Let it be giv'n to her that is most fair,
Thy prudent Judgment must their right declare.
To thee their doubtfull Titles they submit,
Thou now art Lord of Beauty, Pow'r, and Wit.

Enter Juno, Pallas, and Venus, attended by a great Train.
Juno.
Spoken.
If for Juno thou declare,
Crowns and Empire are thy share;
Laurels on thy brow I'le show'r,
And all the tempting sweets of pow'r.

Enter a Spaniard, with a Crown in one hand and a Laurel in the other, he lays them at Paris's feet.

Song in praise of Power.
Oh how sweet it is to reign!
How delightfull 'tis to see
The begging eye and bended knee,
To hear the guilded Palace ring
With praises of the King:
Kings are Gods, and from the lofty Throne,
On all the rest of men look down;
All bow to them, but they submit to none.
With frowns they kill,
And with a smile
More ravishing delights they move,
Then all the fading sweets of Love.
Pleasure and Treasure and Beauty are theirs,
To sweeten their Cares;
All Nature gives or Art can find,
To please the sense and ease the mind,
The Gods for Monarchs did ordain:
Oh how sweet it is to reign!

The Spaniard dances a Saraband in honour of Juno,—
Et Exit.
Enter an Amazon with a Mitre and Sword, which she lays at Paris's feet.
Pallas.
Spoken.
If Pallas gain the envy'd prize,
Though thou to Empire dost not rise,
Great Monarchs shall yield
To thy Counsel at home, and thy Sword in the field.


Song in praise of Wisdom.
Why should short-liv'd mortals strive to gain
Guilded cares and glorious pain,
'Tis not powers boundless sway,
Nor all the guards that wait upon
A shining Throne,
Can drive intruding care away.
Wisdom's sacred pow'r can bind
The raging passions of the mind,
He that has attain'd to that,
Is the Emperour of Fate.
Rough tempests that make Kingdoms roul,
Against his breast in vain do beat,
They cannot shake his fixed soul,
But must like vanquish'd waves retreat.
No restless wish, no trembling fear,
Or fierce despair can enter there;
Vain love, cold death, or hasty time,
Have neither darts nor wings for him;
When life forsakes his quiet breast,
He does but change his place of rest:
'Tis he, 'tis he alone is blest.

The Amazon dances in honour of Pallas,—& Exit.
Enter a beautifull well-dress'd Woman, with a Garland of Flowers, and a wounded Heart, which she lays at Paris his feet.
Venus.
Spoken.
If thou grant'st the prize to me,
None shall be so blest as thee;
Killing eyes and charming faces,
Beauties deck'd with all the Graces,
Shall submit to thy embraces.


Song in praise of Beauty.
When Beauty arm'd with smiling eyes,
And in betraying features drest,
For wandring hearts in Ambush lyes,
She beats the valiant, cheats the wise,
And gains a Throne in ev'ry breast;
To so many bright forms she varies her shape,
No God nor no Hero can ever escape.
Who pleasing looks and mirth disdain,
She wounds with more Majestick Art,
And where the haughty meen proves vain,
Such pearlie show'rs of tears she'l rain,
As can dissolve the hardest heart:
So deep is her cunning, so sweet is he's stroke,
That all must be subject to Beauties soft yoke.
But Oh how sweet 'tis to possess
The secret wishes beauty move,
The joys no language can express,
Nor any wretched mortal guess,
That has not try'd successful love;
Such raptures of pleasure from Beauty proceed,
That none but true Lovers are happy indeed.

The Lady dances in honour of Venus,—& Exit.
Song by Paris.

Paris gives the Golden Apple to Venus, at which Juno and Pallas seem to storm.
Juno.
Thy fondness, silly Shepherd, shall destroy
The late enlarged Monarchy of Troy;
When Grecian Swords and Fire thy house devour,
No God shall guard thee from my injur'd power.

Pallas.
I'le your infatuated minds prepare,
To urge swift ruine and destructive War;
Neglected Wisdom near that fatal hour,
Shall leave the City, when I quit the Tow'r.

Exeunt Juno, & Pallas.
Venus.
Saturn's proud daughter, to thy office hie,
Go mind thy Match-making and Midwifrie.
And what's dame Pallas with her pining train?
A sordid Insect, bred of Jove's hot brain.
Go threaten Children with your Bug-bear rods,
My Son, my Husband, and Gallant are Gods.
Love!—Love's thy Province!—let Fools and Stoicks care,
I rule the mighty Gods of Fire, Love, and War.

Exit Venus.
Song between Paris and Oenone.
Paris.
To the Grove, gentle Love, let us be going,
Where the kind spring and wind all day are wooing;
He with soft sighing blasts strives to o'retake her,
She would not, though she flies, have him forsake her.

Oenone.
But in circling rings returning,
And in purling whispers mourning,
She swells and pants as if she'd say,
Fain I would but dare not stay.

Paris.
Strait he gets all the sweets on the banks spreading,
Which he brings on his wings where his Nymph's hiding,
In some close hollow creek kind Nature shades her,
In the green Willow tree he Serenades her.

Oenone.
—And to gain her chast embraces,
Sends his notes to lofty places;
In calms they lye and seem to say,
Stormy care drives love away.

Paris.
—There the loud busie Croud never shall part us,
Nor no kind fawning friend from love divert us;
We'l to each other be friends, fame and treasure,
And no unruly thought shall stain our pleasure.

Oenone.
—Time and Nature ever smiling,
Shall forget their Arts of killing;
And all the Gods aloud shall say,
Love so chast should ne're decay.

A Dance by Paris and Oenone.
Sung by several.
1.
Oh, how delightfull is Love, and how strong,
When Beauty and Virtue are joyn'd in the young.

Chorus.
Oh how, &c.
When, &c.

2.
The flashes of Vices intemperate joys,
Are haunted with noise of Drunkards and Boys:

3.
And when the short blaze of Beauty decays,
With spight and contempt on the ashes they gaze.

Chorus.
Oh how, &c.
When, &c.

1.
For the ruine of Virtuous Beauties are still,
Ador'd like old Temples where Deities dwell.

2.
Fair Virtue keeps love still alive in the heart,
When Age has o'recome Youth, Beauty and Art.

Chorus of all Voices and Instruments.
Oh how, &c.
When, &c.

A Dance to this Chorus.