NEWS FROM THE NEW WORLD DISCOVERED IN THE MOON, A MASQUE, As it was presented at Court, before King James, 1620. NASCITUR E TENEBRIS: ET SE SIBI VINDICAT ORBIS Enter two HERALDS, a PRINTER, CHRONICLER, and FACTOR. 1 Her. News, news, news! 1 Her. New as the night they are born in. 2 Her. Will you hear any news? Print. Yes, and thank you too, sir: what's the price of them? 1 Her. Price, coxcomb! what price, but the price of your ears? As if any man used to pay for any thing here. 2 Her. Come forward; you should be some dull tradesman by your pig-headed sconce now, that think there's nothing good any where, but what's to be sold. Print. Indeed I am all for sale, gentlemen; you say true, I am a printer, and a printer of news; and I do hearken after them, wherever they be, at any rates; I'll give any thing for a good copy now, be it true or false, so it be news. 1 Her. A fine youth! Chro. And I am for matter of state, gentlemen, by consequence, story, (my Chronicle,) to fill up my great book, which must be three ream of paper at least; I have agreed with my stationer aforehand to make it so big, and I want for ten quire yet. I have been here ever since seven a clock in the morning to get matter for one page, and I think I have it complete; for I have both noted the number, and the capacity of the degrees here; and told twice over how many candles there are in the room lighted, which I will set you down to a snuff precisely, because I love to give light to posterity in the truth of things. 1 Her. This is a finer youth! Fact. Gentlemen, I am neither printer nor chronologer, but one that otherwise takes pleasure in my pen: a factor of news for all the shires of England; I do write my thousand letters a week ordinary, sometimes twelve hundred, and maintain the business at some charge both to hold up my reputation with mine own ministers in town, and my friends of correspondence in the country; I have friends of all ranks, and of all religions, for which I keep an answering catalogue of dispatch; wherein I have my puritan news, my protestant news, and my pontificial news. 2 Her. A superlative this! Fact. And I have hope to erect a Staple for News ere long, whither all shall be brought, and thence again vented under the name of Staple-news, and not trusted to your printed conundrums of the serpent in Sussex, or the witches bidding the devil to dinner at Derby: news, that when a man sends them down to the shires where they are said to be done, were never there to be found! Print. Sir, that's all one, they were made for the common people; and why should not they have their pleasure in believing of lies are made for them, as you have in Paul's, that make them for yourselves? 1 Her. There he speaks reason to you, sir. Fact. I confess it; but it is the printing I am offended at, I would have no news printed; for when they are printed they leave to be news; while they are written, though they be false, they remain news still. Print. See men's divers opinions! It is the printing of them makes them news to a great many who will indeed believe nothing but what's in print. For those I do keep my presses, and so many pens going to bring forth wholesome relations, which once in half a score years, as the age grows forgetful, I print over again with a new date, and they are of excellent use. Chro. Excellent abuse rather. Print. Master Chronicler, do not you talk, I shall 1 Her. Nay, gentlemen, be at peace one with another, we have enough for you all three, if you dare take upon trust. Print. I dare, I assure you. Fact. And I, as much as comes. Chro. I dare too, but nothing so much as I have done: I have been so cheated with false relations in my time, as I have found it a far harder thing to correct my book, than collect it. Fact. Like enough: but to your news, gentlemen, whence come they? 1 Her. From the Moon, ours, sir. Fact. From the Moon! which way? by sea or by land? it at the bore of a whistle, and made it as great | as a drum-head twenty times, and brought it within the length of this room to me, I know not how often. Chro. Tut, that's no news: your perplexive glasses are common. No, it will fall out to be Pythagoras's way, I warrant you, by writing and reading in the moon. Print. Right, and as well read of you, i'faith: for Cornelius Agrippa has it, in disco lunæ, there 'tis found. 1 Her. Sir, you are lost, I assure you for ours came to you neither by the way of Cornelius Agrippa, nor Cornelius Drible. 2 Her. Nor any glass of 1 Her. No philosopher's phant'sie. 2 Her. Mathematician's perspicil. 1 Her. Or brother of the Rosie Cross's intelligence, no forced way, but by the neat and clean power of poetry. 2 Her. The mistress of all discovery. 1 Her. Who after a world of these curious uncertainties, hath employed thither a servant of her's in search of truth: who has been there 2 Her. In the moon. 1 Her. In person. 2 Her. And is this night return'd. Fact. Where? which is he? I must see his dog at his girdle, and the bush of thorns at his back, ere I believe it. 1 Her. Do not trouble your faith then, for if that bush of thorns should prove a goodly grove of oaks, in what case were you and your expectation? 2 Her. These are stale ensigns of the stage's man in the moon, delivered down to you by musty antiquity, and are of as doubtful credit as the makers. Chro. Sir, nothing again antiquity, I pray you, I must not hear ill of antiquity. 1 Her. Oh! you have an old wife, belike, or your venerable jerkin there, -make much of them. Our relation, I tell you still, is news. 2 Her. Certain and sure news. 1 Her. Of a new world. 2 Her. And new creatures in that world. 1 Her. In the orb of the moon. without offence; I am sure if he be a good poet Print. And his prose too, i' faith. Chro. Is he a man's poet, or a woman's poet, I pray you? 2 Her. Is there any such difference? Fact. Many, as betwixt your man's tailor, and your woman's tailor. 1 Her. How, may we beseech you? Fact. I'll shew you; your man's poet may break out strong and deep i' the mouth, as he said of Pindar, Monte decurrens velut amnis: but your woman's poet must flow, and stroke the ear, and, as one of them said of himself sweetly, Must write a verse as smooth and calm as cream, In which there is no torrent, nor scarce stream. 2 Her. Have you any more on't? Fact. No, I could never arrive but to this remnant. 1 Her. Pity! would you had had the whole piece for a pattern to all poetry. Print. How might we do to see your poet? did he undertake this journey, I pray you, to the moon on foot? 1 Her. Why do you ask? Print. Because one of our greatest poets (I know not how good a one) went to Edinburgh on foot, and came back; marry, he has been restive, they say, ever since; for we have had nothing from him: he has set out nothing, I am sure. 1 Her. Like enough, perhaps he has not all in; when he has all in, he will set out, I warrant you, at least those from whom he had it: it is the very same party that has been in the moon now. Print. Indeed! has he been there since? belike he rid thither then? Fact. Yes, post, upon the poet's horse, for a wager. 1 Her. No, I assure you, he rather flew upon the wings of his muse. There are in all but three ways of going thither: one is Endymion's way, by rapture in sleep, or a dream. The other 2 Her. Which is now found to be an earth in- Menippus's way, by wing, which the poet took. habited. 1 Her. With navigable seas and rivers. 2 Her. Variety of nations, policies, laws. 1 Her. With havens in't, castles, and porttowns. 2 Her. Inland cities, boroughs, hamlets, fairs, and markets. 1 Her. Hundreds and wapentakes! forests, parks, coney-ground, meadow-pasture, what not? 2 Her. But differing from ours. Fact. And has your poet brought all this? Chro. Troth, here was enough: 'tis a pretty piece of poetry as 'tis. 1 Her. Would you could hear on, though! 2 Her. Give your minds to't a little. The third, old Empedocles's way; who, when he leaped into Etna, having a dry sear body, and light, the smoke took him, and whift him up into the moon, where he lives yet waving up and down like a feather, all soot and embers, coming out of that coal-pit: our poet met him, and talk'd with him. Chro. In what language, good sir? 2 Her. Only by signs and gestures, for they have no articulate voices there, but certain motions to music: all the discourse there is harmony. Fact. A fine lunatic language, in faith; how do their lawyers then? 2 Her. They are Pythagoreans, all dumb aз fishes, for they have no controversies to exercise Fact. What inns or ale-houses are there there? themselves in. does he tell you? 1 Her. Truly, I have not ask'd him that. 2 Her. Nor were you best, I believe. Fact. Why in travel a man knows these things Fact. How do they live then? 1 Her. On the dew of the moon, like grass hoppers, and confer with the doppers. Fact. Have you doppers? 2 Her. A world of doppers! but they are are mere puddle to them: when the pleasant there as lunatic persons, walkers only: that have months of the year come, they all flock to cerleave only to HUм and нA, not daring to proph-tain broken islands which are called there the esy, or start up upon stools to raise doctrine. Isles of Delight. 1 Her. The brethren of the Rosie Cross have their college within a mile of the moon; a castle in the air that runs upon wheels with a winged lanthorn Print. I have seen it in print. 2 Her. All the phantastical creatures you can think of are there. Fact. 'Tis to be hoped there are women there, then. 1 Her. And zealous women, that will out-groan the groaning wives of Edinburgh. Fact. And lovers as phantastic as ours. 2 Her. But none that will hang themselves for love, or eat candles ends, or drink to their mistresses' eyes, till their own bid them good night, as the sublunary lovers do. Fact. No, sir? Fact. By clouds still? 1 Her. What else? their boats are clouds too. 2 Her. Or in a mist; the mists are ordinary in the moon; a man that owes money there, needs no other protection; only buy a mist, and walk in't, he is never discerned; a matter of a baubee does it. 1 Her. Only one island they have, is call'd the isle of the Epicones, because there under one article both kinds are signified, for they are fashioned alike, male and female the same; not heads and broad hats, short doublets and long points; neither do they ever untruss for distinction, but laugh and lie down in moon-shine, and stab with their poniards; vou do not know the delight of the Epicones in moon-shine. 2 Her. And when they have tasted the springs 2 Her. No, some few you shall have, that sigh of pleasure enough, and bill'd, and kist, and are or whistle themselves away; and those are pres-ready to come away; the shees only lay certain ently hung up by the heels like meteors, with squibs in their tails, to give the wiser sort warning. Print. Excellent! Fact. Are there no self-lovers there? 2 Her. There were; but they are all dead of late for want of tailors. Fact. 'Slight, what luck is that! we could have spared them a colony from hence. 2 Her. I think some two or three of them live yet, but they are turn'd moon-calves by this. Print. O, ay, moon-calves! what monster is that, I pray you? 2 Her. Monster! none at all, a very familiar thing, like our fool here on earth. 1 Her. The ladies there play with them instead of little dogs. Fact. Then there are ladies? 2 Her. And knights and squires. Fact. And servants and coaches? 1 Her. Yes, but the coaches are much o' the nature of the ladies, for they go only with wind. Chro. Pretty, like China wagons. Fact. Have they any places of meeting with their coaches, and taking the fresh open air, and then covert when they please, as in our Hydepark or so? 2 Her. Above all the Hyde-parks in Christendom, far more hidden and private; they do all in clouds there: they walk in the clouds, they sit in the clouds, they lie in the clouds, they ride and tumble in the clouds, their very coaches are clouds. Print. But have they no carmen to meet and break their coaches? 2 Her. Alas, carmen! they will over a carman there, as he will do a child here: you shall have a coachman with cheeks like a trumpeter, and a wind in his mouth, blow him afore him as far as he can see him; or skir over him with his bats wings, a mile and a half, ere he can steer his wry neck to look where he is. Fact. And they have their New Wells too, and physical waters, I hope, to visit, all time of year? 1 Her. Your Tunbridge, or the Spaw itself eggs, (for they are never with child there,) and of those eggs are disclosed a race of creatures like men, but are indeed a sort of fowl, in part covered with feathers, (they call them VOLATEES,) that hop from island to island; you shall see a covey of them, if you please, presently. 1 Her. Yes, faith, 'tis time to exercise their eyes, for their ears begin to be weary. 2 Her. Then know we do not move these wings so soon On which our poet mounted to the moon, Menippus like, but all 'twixt it and us, Thus clears and helps to the presentment, thus. Enter the VOLATEES for the Antimasque, and DANCE. After which, 2 Her. We have all this while (though the muses' heralds) adventured to tell your majesty no news; for hitherto we have moved rather to your delight, than your belief. But now be pleased to expect a more noble discovery worthy of your ear, as the object will be your eye: a race of your own, formed, animated, lightened and heightened by you, who rapt above the moon far in speculation of your virtues, have remained there intranced certain hours, with wonder of the piety, wisdom, majesty reflected by you on them, from the divine light, to which only you are less. These, by how much higher they have been carried from earth, to contemplate your greatness, have now conceived the more haste, and hope, in this their return home to approach your goodness; and led by that excellent likeness of yourself, the truth, imitating Procritus's endeavor, that all their mo tions be formed to the music of your peace, and have their ends in your favor, which alone is able to resolve and thaw the cold they have presently contracted in coming through the colder region. [Music. Here the Scene opens, and discovers the Region of the Moon, from which the MasQUERS descend, and shake off their icicles. FIRST SONG Howe'er the brightness may amaze, Move you, and stand not still at gaze, A MASQUE OF THE METAMORPHOSED GIPSIES, AS IT WAS THRICE PRESENTED TO KING JAMES, First at Burleigh on the Hill; next at Belvoir; and lastly at Windsor, August, 1621. THE SPEECH AT THE KING'S ENTRANCE AT BURLEIGH, MADE IN THE CHARACTER OF THE PORTER. If for our thoughts there could but speech be found, | Which shews a hand not grieved but when it ceases For what he ne'er can hope, how to restore, With their abundance, not that in his breast THE PROLOGUE AT WINDSOR. As many blessings as there be bones I dare be no waster Of time or of speech, Where you are in place. I only beseech You take in good grace, Enter a Gipsy (being the JACKMAN,) leading a horse | laden with five little children bound in a trace of scarfs upon him; followed by a second, leading another horse laden with stolen poultry, &c. Jack. Room for the five princes of Egypt, mounted all upon one horse, like the four sons of Aymon, to make the miracle the more by a head if it may be! Gaze upon them, as on the offspring of Ptolemy, begotten upon several Cleopatras, in their several counties; especially on this brave spark struck out of Flintshire, upon justice Jug's daughter, then sheriff of the county, who running away with a kinsman of our captain's, and her father pursuing her to the Our following the court, So long (some will say) till we grow a disease. Have graced us already, encourage to thrice: Wherein if our boldness your patience invade, Forgive us the fault that your favor hath made. marches, he great with justice, she great with juggling, they were both, for the time, turn'd till at last, (see the wonder,) a jug of the townstone, upon the sight each of other, in Chester: ale reconciling them, the memorial of both their gravities, his in beard, and her's in belly, hath remained ever since preserved in picture upon the most stone jugs of the kingdom. The famous imp yet grew a wretchock; and though for seven years together he was carefully carried at his mother's back, rock'd in a cradle of Welsh cheese, like a maggot, and there fed with broken beer, and blown wine of the best daily, yet looks as if he never saw his quinquennium. 'Tis true, he can thread needles on horseback, |