Part 22

_Merc._ Alas, when ever offer'd he t'abridge Your Ladies power, but only now in these, Whose match concerns [his] general government? Hath not each God a part in these high joyes? And shall not he the King of gods presume Without proud _Juno's_ licence? let her know, That when enamour'd _Jove_ fir[st] gave her power To link soft hearts in undissolv[ed] b[o]nds, He then foresaw, and to himself reserv'd The honor of this marriage: thou shalt stand Still as a Rock, while I to bless this Feast Will summon up with mine all-charming rod The Nymphs of Fountains, from whose watry locks, (Hung with the dew of blessing and increase) The greedy Rivers take their nourishment. Y[ou] Nymphs, who bathing in your loved Springs, Beheld these Rivers in their infancy. And joy'd to see them, when their circled heads Refresh'd the Air, and spread the ground with Flowers; Rise from your Wells, and with your nimble feet Perform that office to this happy pair, Which in these Plains you to _Alpheus_ did, When passing hence, through many Seas unmixt, He gain'd the favour of his _Arethuse_.

[_The Nymphs rise, and dance a little, and then make a stand._

_Iris._ Is _Hermes_ grown a Lover? by what power Unknown to us, calls he the [Naiades]?

_Merc._ Presumptuous _Iris_, I could make thee dance, Till thou forgetst thy Ladies messages, And rann'st back crying to her; thou shalt know My power is more, only my breath, and this Shall move fix'd Stars, and force the Firmament To yield the Hyades, who govern showers, And dewy clouds, in whose dispersed drops Thou form'st the shape of thy deceitful Bow. Y[ou] Maids, who yearly at appointed times Advance with kindly tears, the gentle floods Discend, and pour your blessing on these streams, Which rolling down from Heaven-aspiring hills, And now united in the fruitful vales, Bear all before them, ravish'd with their joy, And swell in glory, till they know no bounds.

[_The Cloud discends with the Hyades, at which the Maids seem to be rejoyced; they all dance a while together, then make another stand, as if they wanted something._

_Iris._ Great Wit and Power hath _Hermes_ to contrive A livel[esse] dance, which of one sex consists.

_Merc._ Alas poor _Iris_! _Venus_ hath in store A secret ambush of her winged boys, Who lurking long within these pleasant groves, First stuck these Lovers with their equal darts; Those _Cupids_ shall come forth, and joyn with these, To honor that which they themselves began.

[_The_ Cupids _come forth and dance, they are weary with their blind pursuing the Nymphs, and th[e] Nymphs weary with flying them_.

_Iris._ Behold the Statues which wild Vulcan plac'd Under the Altar of Olympian _Jove_, And gave to them an artificial life: [Shall daunce for joy of these great Nuptialls:] See how they move, drawn by this Heavenly joy, Like the wild Trees, which followed _Orpheus_ Harp.

[_The Statues come down, and they all dance, till the Nymphs out-run them, and lose them, then the_ Cupids _go off, and last the Statues_.

_Merc._ And what will _Juno's Iris_ do for her?

_Iris._ Just match this shew, or m[y] inventio[n] fail[es], Had it been worthier, I would have invok'd The blazing Comets, Clouds, and falling Stars, And all my kindred Meteors of the air, To have excell'd it; but I now must strive To imitate confusion; therefore thou Delightful _Flora_; if thou ever feltst Increase of sweetness in those blooming Plants, On which the horns of my fair Bow decline, Send hither all th[e] rural company, Which deck the May-games with their [Countrey] sports; _Juno_ will have it so.

[_The second Anti-Masque [rush] in, [dance] their measure, and as rudely depart._

_Merc. Iris_, we strive Like winds at liberty, who should do worst E'r we return. If _Juno_ be the Queen Of Marriages, let her give happy way To what is done in honor of the State She governs.

_Iris. Hermes_, so it may be done Meerly in honor of the State, and th[e]se That now have prov'd it; not to satisfy The lust of _Jupiter_, in having thanks More than his _Juno_; if thy Snaky rod Have power to search the Heaven, or sound the Sea, Or call together all the ends of earth, To bring [in] any thing that may do grace To us, and these, do it, we shall be pleas'd.

_Merc._ Then know that from the mouth of _Jove_ himself, Whose words have wings, and need not to be born, I took a message, and I b[a]re it through A thousand yielding clouds, and never staid Till his high Will was done: the _Olympian_ games, Which long ha[ve] slept, at these wish'd Nuptials, He pleas'd to have renew'd, and all his Knights Are gather'd hither, who within their Tents Rest on this hill, upon whose rising head

[_The Altar is discovered with the Pri[e]sts about it, and the Statues under it, and the Knights lying in their Tents on each side, near the top of the hill._

Behold _Jove's_ Altar, and his blessed Priests Moving about it; come you Holy men, And with your voices draw these youths along, That till _Jove's_ Musick call them to their games. Their active sports may give a blest content To those, for whom they are again begun.

The first Song, when the Priests descend, and the Knights follow them.

_Shake off your heavy trance,_ _and leap into a dance,_ _Such as no mortals use to tread,_ _fit only for_ Apollo _To play to, for the Moon to lead,_ _And all the Stars to follow_.

The second Song at the end of the first Dance.

_On blessed youths, for_ Jove _doth pause,_ _Laying aside his graver Laws_ _For this device:_ _And at the wedding such a pair,_ _Each dance is taken for a prayer,_ _Each Song a Sacrifice._

The third Song, after their many Dances, when they are to take out the Ladies.

Single.

_More pleasing were these sweet delights,_ _If Ladies mov'd as well as Knights_; _Run every one of you and catch_ _A Nymph, in honor of his match;_ _And whisper boldly in her ear,_ Jove _will but laugh, if you forswear._

All.

_And this days sins he doth resolve,_ _That we his Priests should all absolve._

The fourth Song, when they have parted with the Ladies, a shrill Musick sounds, supposed to be that which calls them to the Olympian games, at which they all make a seeming preparation to depart.

_Y[e] should stay longer if we durst,_ _Away, alas! that he that first_ _Gave time wild wings to fly away,_ _H[ath] now no power to make him stay._ _[But] though these games must needs be plaid,_ _I would th[is] pair, when they are laid,_ _And not a creature nigh 'em,_ _[Could] catch his sithe, as he doth pass,_ _And [cut] his wings, and break his glass,_ _And keep him ever by 'em._

The fifth Song, when all is done, as they ascend

_Peace and silence be the guide_ _To the Man, and to the Bride:_ _If there be a joy y[e]t new_ _In marriage, let it fall on you,_ _That all the world may wonder:_ _If we should stay, we should do worse,_ _And turn our blessings to a curse,_ _By keeping you asunder._

Four PLAYS in One.

The Persons represented in the Play.

Emanuel, _King of_ Portugal, & Castile. Isabella, _his Queen_. Lords. Frigoso, _a Courtier_. } _Spectators of the Play at the_ Rinaldo, _his acquaintance_. } _celebration of their Nuptials._

The Triumph of Honor.

Martius, _a Roman General_. Valerius, _his Brother_. Nicodemus, _a cowardly Corporal_. Cornelius, _a wittal Sutler_. Captain. Sophocles, _Duke of_ Athens.

WOMEN.

Diana. Dorigen, Sophocles _wife, the example of Chastity_. Florence, _Wife to_ Cornelius.

The Triumph of Love.

Cupid. Rinaldo, _Duke of_ Milan. Benvoglio, } _Brothers, Lords of_ Randulpho, } Milan Gerard, } _Sons of the Duke, supposed_ Ferdinand, } _lost._

WOMEN.

Angelina, _Wife to_ Benvoglio. Violante, _her Daughter_, Gerard's _Mistriss_. Dorothea, Violante's _Attendant_. Cornelia, _the obscured Duchess_.

The Triumph of Death.

Duke _of_ Anjou. Lavall, _his lustful Heir_. Gentille, _a Courtier, Father to_ Perolot. Perolot, _contracted to_ Gabriella. Two Gentlemen. A Spirit. Shalloone, _servant to_ Lavall.

WOMEN.

Gabriella, _the despised wife of_ Lavall. Hellena, _his second wife_. Casta, _Daughter to_ Gentille. Maria, _a servant attending on_ Gabriella.

The Triumph of Time.

Jupiter. Mercurie. Plutus. Time. Atropos. Desire. Vain Delight. Bounty. Poverty. Honesty. Simplicity. Fame.

Four

PLAYS

OR

Moral Representations

IN ONE.

_Enter Don_ Frigozo.

_Frig._ [_Noise within._ Away with those bald-pated Rascals there, their wits are bound up in Vellom, they are not currant here. Down with those City-Gentlemen, &c. Out with those ---- I say, and in with their wives at the back door. Worship and place, I am weary of ye, ye lye on my shoulders lik a load of Gold on an Asses back. A man in Authority, is but as a candle in the wind, sooner wasted or blown out, than under a bushel. How now, what's the matter?

Who are you, Sir?

_Enter_ Rinaldo.

_Rin._ Who am I, Sir? why, do y' not know me?

_Frig._ No by my ---- do I not.

_Rin._ I am sure we din'd together to day.

_Frig._ That's all one: as I din'd with you in the City, and as you paid for my dinner there, I do know you, and am beholding to you: But as my mind is since transmigrated into my office, and as you come to Court to have me pay you again, and be beholding to me, I know you not, I know you not.

_Rin._ Nay, but look ye, Sir.

_Frig._ Pardon me: If you had been my bed-fellow these seven years, and lent me money to buy my place, I must not transgress principles: This very talking with you is an ill example.

_Rin._ Pish, you are too punctual a Courtier, Sir: why, I am a Courtier too, yet never understood the place or name to be so infectious to humanity and manners, as to cast a man into a burning pride and arrogance, for which there is no cure. I am a Courtier, and yet I will know my friends, I tell you.

_Frig._ And I tell you, you will thrive accordingly, I warrant you.

_Rin._ But hark ye, Signior _Frigozo_, you shall first understand, I have no friends with me to trouble you.

_Frig._ Humh: That's a good motive.

_Rin._ No[r] to borrow money of you.

_Frig._ That's an excellent motive.

_Rin._ No my sweet Don, nor to ask what you owe me.

_Frig._ Why, that is the very motive of motives, why I ought and will know thee: and if I had not wound thee up to this promise, I would not have known thee these fifteen years, no more than the errantst, or most founder'd _Castillian_ that followed our new Queens Carriages a-foot.

_Rin._ Nor for any thing, dear Don, but that you would place me conveniently to see the Play to night.

_Frig._ That shall I, Signior _Rinaldo_: but would you had come sooner: you see how full the Scaffolds are, there is scant room for a Lovers thought here. Gentlewomen sit close for shame: Has none of ye a little corner for this Gentleman? I'll place ye, fear not. And how did our brave King of _Portugal_, _Emanuel_, bear himself to day? You saw the solemnity of the marriage.

_Rin._ Why, like a fit Husband for so gracious and excellent a Princess, as his worthy mate _Isabella_, the King of _Castiles_ Daughter doth in her very external li[ne]aments, mixture of colours, and joyning Dove-like behaviour assure her self to be. And I protest (my dear Don) seriously, I can sing prophetically nothing but blessed Hymns, and happy occasions to this sacred union of _Portugal_ and _Castile_, which have so wisely and mutually conjoyned two such virtuous and beautiful Princes as these are; and in all opinion like to multiply to their very last minute.

_Frig._ The King is entring: Signior, hover here about, and as soon as the Train is set, clap into me, we'll stand near the State. If you have any Creditors here, they shall renew bonds a Twelvemonth on such a sight: but to touch the pomel of the King's Chair in the sight of a Citizen, is better security for a thousand double Duckets, than three of the best Merchants in _Lisbon_. Besides, Signior, we will censure, not only the King in the Play here, that Reigns his two hours; but the King himself, that is to rule his life time: Take my counsel: I have one word to say to this noble Assembly, and I am for you.

_Rin._ Your method shall govern me.

Frig. _Prologues are bad Huishers before the wise;_ _Why may not then an Huisher Prologize?_ _Here's a fair sight, and were ye oftner seen_ _Thus gather'd here, 'twould please our King and Queen_ _Upon my conscience, ye are welcome all_ _To_ Lisbon, _and the Court of_ Portugal; _Where your fair eyes shall feed on no worse sights_ _Than preparations made for Kings delights._ _We wish to men content, the manliest treasure,_ _And to the Women, their own wish'd for pleasure._ [Flourish.

_Enter King and Queen, Emanuel and Isabella,_ _Lords and attendants._

_Em._ Fair fountain of my life, from whose pure streams The propagation of two Kingdoms flowes, Never contention rise in eithers brest, But contestation whose love shall be best.

_Isab._ Majestick Ocean, that with plenty feeds Me, thy poor tributary Rivolet, Sun of my beauty, that with radiant beams Dost gild, and dance upon these humble streams, Curst be my birth-hour, and my ending day, When back your love-floods I forget to pay: Or if this brest of mine, your crystall brook, Ever take other form in, other look But yours, or ere produce unto your grace A strange reflection, or anothers face, But be your love-book clasp'd, open'd to none But you, nor hold a storie, but your own; A water fix'd, that ebbs nor floods pursue, Frozen to all, onely dissolv'd to you.

_Em._ O, who shall tel the sweetness of our love To future times, and not be thought to lye? I look through this hour like a perspective, And far off see millions of prosperous seeds, That our reciprocall affection breeds. Thus my white rib, close in my brest with me, Which nought shall tear hence, but mortalitie.

_Lords._ Be Kingdoms blest in you, you blest in them.

_Frig._ Whist, Seignior; my strong imagination shews me Love (me thinks) bathing in milk, and wine in her cheeks: O! how she clips him, like a plant of Ivie.

_Rin._ I; Could not you be content to be an Owl in such an ivie-bush, or one of the Oaks of the City to be so clipt?

_Frig._ Equivocal Don, though I like the clipping well, I could not be content either to be your Owl, or your Ox of the City. The Play begins. [_Flourish._

_Enter a Poet with a garland._

Poet Prologue. _Low at your sacred feet our poor Muse layes_ _Her, and her thunder-fearless virdant Bayes._ _Four severall_ Triumphs _to your Princely eyes,_ _Of_ Honor, Love, Death, _and_ Time _do rise_ _From our approaching subject, which we move_ _Towards you with fear, since that a sweeter_ Love, _A brighter_ Honor, _purer_ Chastitie _March in your brests this day triumphantly,_ _Then our weak Scenes can show: then how dare we_ _Present like Apes and Zanies, things that be_ _Exemplifi'd in you, but that we know,_ _We ne'r crav'd grace, which you did not bestow_?

_Enter in triumph with Drums, Trumpets, Colours_, Martius, Valerius, Sophocles _bound_, Nicodemus, Cornelius, _Captains and Soldiers_.

_Mar._ What means proud _Sophocles_?

_Soph._ To go even with _Martius_, And not to follow him like his Officer: I never waited yet on any man.

_Mar._ Why poor _Athenian_ Duke, thou art my slave, My blows have conquerd thee.

_Soph._ Thy slave? proud _Martius_, _Cato_ thy countrey-man (whose constancie, Of all the Romans, I did honor most) Rip'd himself twice to avoid slavery, Making himself his own Anatomie. But look thee _Martius_, not a vein runs here From head to foot, but _Sophocles_ would unseame, and Like a spring garden shoot his scornfull blood Into their eyes, durst come to tread on him: As for thy blows, they did [not] conquer me: Seven Battailes have I met thee face to face, And given thee blow for blow, and wound for wound, And till thou taught'st me, knew not to retire; Thy sword was then as bold, thy arm as strong; Thy blows then _Martius_, cannot conquer me.

_Val._ What is it then?

_Soph._ Fortune.

_Val._ Why, yet in that Thou art the worse man, and must follow him.

_Soph._ Young Sir, you erre: If Fortune could be call'd Or his, or your's, or mine, in good or evill For any certain space, thou hadst spoke truth: But she but jests with man, and in mischance Abhors all constancie, flowting him still With some small touch of good, or seeming good Midst of his mischief: which vicissitude Makes him strait doff his armour, and his fence He had prepar'd before, to break her strokes. So from the very Zenith of her wheel, When she has dandled some choice favorite, Given him his boons in women, honor, wealth, And all the various delecacies of earth; That the fool scorns the gods in his excess, She whirls, and leaves him at th' _Antipodes_.

_Mar._ Art sure we have taken him? Is this _Sophocles_? His fettred arms say no; his free soul, I. This _Athens_ nurseth Arts, as well as Arms.

_Soph._ Nor glory _Martius_, in this day of thine, 'Tis behind yesterday, but before to morrow: Who knows what Fortune then will do with thee? She never yet could make the better man, The better chance she has: the man that's best She still contends with, and doth favor least.

_Mar._ Me thinks a graver thunder then the skies Breaks from his lips; I am amaz'd to hear, And _Athens_ words, more then her swords doth fear.

_Soph. Martius_, slave _Sophocles_, couldst thou acquire (And did thy Roman gods so love thy prayers, And solemn sacrifice, to grant thy suit) To gather all the valour of the _Cæsars_ Thy Predecessors, and what is to come, And by their influence fling it on thee now, Thou couldst not make my mind go less, not pare With all their swords one virtue from my soul: How am I vassall'd then? Make such thy slaves, As dare not keep their goodness past their graves. Know General, we two are chances on The die of Fate; now thrown, thy six is up, And my poor one beneath thee, next th[y] throw May set me upmost, and cast thee below.

_Mar._ Yet will I trie thee more: Calamitie Is mans true touchstone: Listen insolent Prince, That dar'st contemn the Master of thy life, Which I will force here 'fore thy City walls With barbarous crueltie, and call thy wife To see it, and then after send her--

_Soph._ Ha, ha, ha.

_Mar._ And then demolish _Athens_ to the ground, Depopulate her, fright away her fame, And leave succession neither stone nor name.

_Soph._ Ha, ha, ha.

_Mar._ Dost thou deride me?

_Val._ Kneel, ask _Martius_ For mercy, _Sophocles_, and live happy still.

_Soph._ Kneel, and ask mercie? (_Roman_) art a god? I never kneel'd, or begg'd of any else. Thou art a fool, and I will loose no more Instructions on thee: now I find thy eares [_Solemn Musick._

_Enter Dorigen, Ladyes bearing a sword._

Are foolish, like thy tongue. My _Dorigen_? Oh! must she see me bound?

_1 Cap._ There's the first sigh He breath'd since he was born, I think.

_2 Cap._ Forbear, All but the Lady his wife.

_Soph._ How my heart chides The manacles of my hands, that let them not Embrace my _Dorigen_.

_Val._ Turn but thy face. And ask thy life of _Martius_ thus, and thou (With thy fair wife) shalt live; _Athens_ shall stand, And all her priviledges augmented be.

_Soph._ 'Twere better _Athens_ perish'd, and my wife Which (Romans) I do know a worthie one, Then _Sophocles_ should shrink of _Sophocles_, Commit profane Idolatry, by giving The reverence due to gods to thee blown man.

_Mar._ Rough, stubborn Cynick.

_Soph._ Thou art rougher far, And of a couser wale, fuller of pride, Less temperate to bear prosperity. Thou seest my meer neglect hath rais'd in thee A storm more boystrous then the Oceans, My virtue, Patience, makes thee vitious.

_Mar._ Why, fair-ey'd Lady, do you kneel?

_Dor._ Great Generall, Victorious, godlike _Martius_, your poor handmaid Kneels, for her husband will not, cannot: speaks Thus humbly, that he may not. Listen _Roman_, Thou whose advanced front doth speak thee _Roman_ To every Nation, and whose deeds assure 't; Behold a Princess (whose declining head Like to a drooping lilly after storms Bowes to thy feet) and playing here the slave, To keep her husbands greatness unabated: All which doth make thy Conquest greater: For, If he be base in ought whom thou hast taken, Then _Martius_ hath but taken a base prize. But if this Jewell hold lustre and value, _Martius_ is richer then in that he hath won. O make him such a Captive, as thy self Unto another wouldst, great Captain, be; Till then, he is no prisoner fit for thee.

_Mar. Valerius_, here is harmonie would have brought Old crabbed _Saturn_ to sweet sleep, when _Jove_ Did first incense him with Rebellion: _Athens_ doth make women Philosophers, And sure their children chat the talk of gods.

_Val._ Rise beauteous _Dorigen_.

_Dor._ Not untill I know The Generals resolution.

_Val._ One soft word From _Sophocles_ would calm him into tears, Like gentle showres after tempestuous winds.

_Dor._ To buy the world, he will not give a word, A look, a tear, a knee, 'gainst his own judgement, And the divine composure of his minde: All which I therefore doe, and here present This Victors wreathe, this rich _Athenian_ sword, Trophies of Conqu[e]st, which, great _Martius_, wear, And be appeas'd: Let _Sophocles_ still live.

_Mar._ He would not live.

_Dor._ He would not beg to live. When he shall so forget, then I begin To command, _Martius_; and when he kneels, _Dorigen_ stands; when he lets fall a tear, I dry mine eyes, and scorn him.

_Mar._ Scorn him now then, Here in the face of _Athens_, and thy friends. Self-will'd, stiff _Sophocles_, prepare to die, And by that sword thy Lady honor'd me, With which her self shall follow. Romans, Friends, Who dares but strike this stroke, shall part with me Half _Athens_, and my half of Victorie.

_Cap._ By ---- not we.

_Nic. Cor._ We two will do it, Sir.

_Soph._ Away, ye fish-fac'd Rascals.

_Val. Martius_, To Eclipse this great Eclipse labours thy fame; _Valerius_ thy Brother shall for once Turn Executioner: Give me the sword. Now _Sophocles_, I'll strike as suddenly As thou dar'st die.