Cupid invites you to the sights Ven. 'Tis a good child, speak out; hold up your head, Love. Cup. And which Cupid and which Cupid Ven. Do not shake so, Robin; if thou be'st a-cold, I have some warm waters for thee here. Chris. Come, you put Robin Cupid out with your waters, and your fisling; will you be gone? Ven. Ay, forsooth, he's a child, you must conceive, and must be used tenderly; he was never in such an assembly before, forsooth, but once at the Warmoll Quest, forsooth, where he said grace as prettily as any of the sheriff's hinch-boys, forsooth. Chris. Will you peace, forsooth? Cup. And which Cupid—and which Cupid, Ven. Ay, that's a good boy, speak plain, Robin: how does his majesty like him, I pray? will he give eight-pence a day, think you? Speak out, Robin. Chris. Nay, he is out enough, you may take him away, and begin your dance: this it is to have speeches. Ven. You wrong the child, you do wrong the infant; I 'peal to his majesty. Here they dance. Chris. Well done, boys, my fine boys, my bully boys! THE EPILOGue. Sings. Nor do you think that their legs is all For at the Artillery-garden they shall And march as fine, as the Muses nine, And in their brave tires, to give their false fires, Now if the lanes and the allies afford Such an ac-ativity as this; At Christmas next, if they keep their word, Though, put the case, when they come in place, Their very gold lace, with their silk, would'em grace, Having so many knights o' the shop. But were I so wise, I might seem to advise They should, sir, I tell ye, spare't out of their belly, And this way spend some of their pelf. Ay, and come to the court, for to make you some sport, At the least once every year: As Christmas hath done, with his seventh or eighth son, And his couple of daughters dear. AND THUS IT ENDED. THE MASQUE OF LETHE. The FRONT before the SCENE was an ARCH-TRIUMPHAL, On the top of which, HUMANITY, placed in figure, sat with her lap of flowers, scattering them with her right-hand; and holding a golden chain in her left hand: to shew both the freedom and the bond of courtesy, with this inscription: SUPER OMNIA VULTUS. On the two sides of the arch, CHeerfulness and CHEERFULNESS, in a loose flowing garment, filling out wine from an antique piece of plate; with this word, ADSIT LÆTITIÆ DATOR. READINESS, a winged maid, with two flaming bright lights in her hands; and her word, AMOR ADDIDIT ALAS. The SCENE discovered, is, on the one side, the head of a boat, and in it CHARON putting off from the shore, having landed certain imagined ghosts, whom MERCURY there receives, and encourageth to come on towards the river LETHE, who appears lying in the person of an old man. The Fates sitting by him on his bank; a grove of myrtles behind them, presented in perspective, and growing thicker to the outer-side of the scene. MERCURY, perceiving them to faint, calls them on, and shews them his golden rod. Mercury. AY, faint not now, so near the fields of rest. Here no more Furies, no more tor ments dwell, Than each hath felt already in his breast; Who hath been once in love, hath proved his hell. Up then, and follow this my golden rod, That points you next to aged Lethe's shore, Who pours his waters from his urn abroad, Of which but tasting, you shall faint no more. Lethe. Stay; who or what fantastic shades are these That Hermes leads? Mer. They are the gentle forms Of lovers, tost upon those frantic seas, Lethe. And have rid out her storms? Mer. No. Lethe. Did they perish? Mer. Yes. Lethe. How? Mer. Drown'd by Love. * The whole masque was sung after the Italian manner stylo recitativo, by master Nicholas Lanier; who ordered and made both the scene and the music. That drew them forth with hopes as smooth as were Th'unfaithful waters he desired them prove. Lethe. And turn'd a tempest when he had them there? Mer. He did, and on the billow would he roll, And laugh to see one throw his heart away; O love, I now to salter water turn Than that I die in; then a fourth, to cry A fifth laugh out, It is my ghost, not I. And thus in pairs I found them. Only one There is, that walks, and stops, and shakes his head, And shuns the rest, as glad to be alone, And whispers to himself, he is not dead. Fates. No more are all the rest. Mer. No! I Fate. No. Mer. But why Proceeds this doubtful voice from destiny? Fates. It is too sure. Mer. Sure! 2 Fate. Ay. Thinks Mercury, 3 That any things or names on earth do die, That are obscured from knowledge of the Fates, Fate. And know all nature's dates? Mer. They say themselves, they are dead. 1 Fate. It not appears, Or by our rock, 2 Fate. Our spindle, 3 Fate. Or our shears. Fates. Here all their threads are growing yet, none cut. |