MADAM,
If my slight Muse may suit your noble merit,
My hopes are crown'd, and I shall cheer my spirit;
But if my weak quill droops or seems unfit,
'Tis not your want of worth, but mine of wit.
The servant of your honour'd virtues,
John Marston.
When her Ladyship approached the Park corner, a full
noise of cornets winded; and when she entered into the
Park, treble cornets reported one to another, as
giving warning of her Honour's nearer approach; when
presently her eye was saluted with an antique gate, which
suddenly was erected in this form. Upon the gate did hang
many silver scrolls with this word in them, Tantum uni.
Upon the battlements over the gate three gilt shields in
diamond-figure, impaled on the top with three coronets
purfled with gold, and severally inscribed with silver
words; in the first shield, Venisti tandem; in the
second, Nostra sera; in the third, Et sola voluptas. Over
these, upon a half sphere, stood embossed an antique
figure gilt; the slight tower[s] to this gate, which were
only raised for show, were set out with battlements,
shields, and coronets suitable to the rest. When the
Countess came near the gate an old enchantress in crimson
velvet, with pale face, black hair, and disliking
countenance, affronted her Ladyship, and thus rudely
saluted her:
Woman, Lady, Princess, Nymph, or Goddess,
For more you are not, and you seem no less ;
Stay, and attempt not passage through this port,
Here the pale Lord of Sadness keep[s] his court,
Rough-visag'd Saturn, on whose bloodless cheeks,
Dull Melancholy sits, who straightly seeks
To seize on all that enter through this gate.
Grant gracious listening, and I shall relate
The means, the manner, and of all the sense,
Whilst your fair eye enforceth eloquence.
There was a time (and since that time the sun
Hath not yet through nine signs of heaven run)
When the high Sylvan, that commands these woods,
And his bright Nymph, fairer than Queen of Floods,
With most impatient longings hoped to view
Her face to whom their hearts' dear'st zeal was due.
Youth's joys. to love, sweet light unto the blind,
Beauty to virgins, or what wit can find
Most dearly wished, was not so much desired
As she to them; O my dull soul is fired
To tell their longings, but it is a piece
That would o'erload the famous tongues of Greece.
Yet long they hop'd, till Rumour struck Hope
dead,
And showed their wishes were but flatterèd;
For scarce her chariot cut the easy earth,
And journeyed on, when Winter with cold breath
Crosseth her way, her borrowed hair doth shine
With glittering icicles all crystalline ;
Her brows were periwigg'd with softer snow,
Her russet mantle, fringed with ice below,
Sat stiffly on her back ; she thus came forth,
Ushered with tempest of the frosty North;
And seeing her, she thought she sure had seen
The sweet-breath'd Flora, the bright Summer's
Queen.
So full of cheerful grace she did appear,
That Winter feared her face recalled the year,
And forced untimely springs to seize her right,
Whereat with anger and malicious spite
She vows revenge; straight with tempestuous wings,
From Taurus, Alps, and Scythian rocks she flings
Their covering off, and here their thick fur spread,
That patient earth was almost smotherèd.
Up Boreas mounts, and doth so strongly blow
Athwart her way huge drifts of blinding snow,
That mountain-like, at length heaps rose so high,
Man's sight might doubt whether Heaven or Earth were sky.
Hereat she turnèd back, and left her way
(Necessity all mortals must obey) ;
Which was no sooner voiced and hither flown,
It sads me but to think what grief was shown
Which to augment (mishap ne'er single falls),
The God of Sadness and of Funerals,
Of heavy pensiveness and discontent,
Cold and dull Saturn hither straight was sent.
Myself, Merimna, who still wait upon
Pale Melancholy and Desolation,
Usher'd him in, when straight we strongly seize
All this sad house, and vowed no means should ease
These heavy bands which pensive Saturn tied,
Till with wish'd grace this house was beautified.
Pace then no further, for vouchsafe to know,
Till her approach here can no comfort grow;
'Tis only one can their sad bondage break,
Whose worth I may admire, not dare to speak.
She's so complete, that her much honoured state
Gives Fortune Virtue, makes Virtue fortunate
As one in whom three rare mix'd virtues sit
Seen seldom joinèd, Fortune, Beauty, Wit;
To this choice Lady and to her dear state
All hearts do open, as alone this gate ;
She only drives away dull Saturn hence,
She whom to praise I need her eloquence!
This speech thus ended, presently Saturn
issued from forth the port, and curiously beholding the
Countess, spake thus :
Peace ! stay, it is, it is, it is even she !
Hail happy honours of Nobility !
Did never Saturn see, or ne'er see such?
What should I style you? what choice phrase may
touch,
Or hopes in words such wondrous grace to suit,
Whose worth doth want an equal attribute.
Let never mortal wondering silence break,
Since to express you Gods themselves must speak.
Sweet glories of your sex, know that your eyes
Makes mild the rou-hest planet of the skies.
Even we, the Lord that sits on ebon thrones,
Circled with sighs and discontented groans,
Are forced at your fair presence to relent,
At your approach all Saturn's force is spent.
Now breaks my bands, now sadness leaves their
towers,
Now all are turn'd to Flora's smiling bowers;
Then now give way, now is my bondage due
Only to those who safely envy you.
Hence, solitary Beldam, sink to-night,
I give
up all to joy, and to delight.
And now pass on, all-happy-making dame!
O could you but imagine what a flame
Of many joys now in their bosoms shine
Who count it their dear'st honour to be thine,
You would aver, to number them who seeks
Must sure invent some new arithmetics,
For who to cast their reckoning takes in hand
Had need for counters take the ocean-sand.
Their service is your right, your love their due
Who only love themselves for loving you.
Their palace waits you with so hearty gate
Men cannot utter nor Gods scarce relate.
Then passed the whole troop to the house, until the
Countess had mounted the stairs to the great chamber; on
the top of which, Merimna, having changed her habit all
to white, met her, and, whilst a consort softly played,
spake thus:
Madam,
See what a change the spirit of your eyes
Hath wrought in us. Hence dull Saturn flies,
And we that were the ghost of woe and earth
Are all transform'd unto the soul of mirth.
O we are full of joy, no breast more light
But those who owe you theirs by nature's right;
From whom vouchsafe this present,-'tis a work
Wherein strange miracles and wonders lurk.
For, know, that Lady whose ambition towers
Only to this, to be term'd worthy yours;
Whose forehead I could crown with clearest rays,
But that her praise is she abhors much praise;
Not long since thought she saw in slumb'ring trances
The Queen of Fairies and of moonlight dances
Come tripping in; and with a fairy kiss
She chastely touch'd her and straight gave her this
With this strange charge :--" This piece alone was
made
For her in whom no graces e'er shall fade;
For her whose worth is such I dare aver
It fears not satire nor the flatterer;
For her who gave you first most gracing name,
Who loveth goodness for itself, not fame;
For her whom modest virtue doth enfold so
That she had rather be much graced than told so;
For her for whom, had you the whole world's breast
And of it all gave her sole interest,
You'd judge it slight." This said, hence straight she
flew,
And left it her who only vows it you.
Then whilst our breast with secret welcomes ring,
Vouchsafe acceptance of this offering.
Thus with a song Merimna presented her honour with a very
curious and rich waistcoat; which done, the Countess
passed on to her chamber.
The Masque presented by four knights
and four gentle men al the right noble Earl of
Huntingdon's house of Ashby in honour of his Lady's most
worthy mother's arrival, Alice Countess Dowager of Derby.
The form was thus :-
At the approach of the countesses into the great chamber
the hoboys played until the room was marshalled; which
once ordered, a traverse slided away; presently a cloud
was seen move up and down almost to the top of the great
chamber, upon which Cynthia was discovered riding; her
habit was blue satin, fairly embroidered with stars and
clouds : who looking down and earnestly surveying the
ladies, spake thus:
Cynth. Are not we Cynthia? and shall earth display
Brighter than us and force untimely day ?
What daring flames beam such illustrious light,
Enforcing darkness from the claim of night?
Up, Ariadne, thy clear beauty rouse,
Thou Northern Crown to lusty Bacchus' spouse,
Let's mix our glories to outblaze your flame;
To be outshone is Heaven's and great hearts' shame.
Look down; know'st them? See how their fronts
rebate
Splendour like Jove and beauty worth our state!
Hath our bright brother, the fair Lord of days,
Into their eyes shed his us-dark'ning rays ?
Or hath some daring spirit forgot Jove's ire
And to grace them stol'n his celestial fire ?
We are not Phoebe, this is not Heaven's story;
Place gives not worth, but worth gives place his glory.
In the midst of this speech Ariadne rose from the bottom
of the room, mounted upon a cloud which waved up until it
came near Cynthia, where resting Ariadne spake thus :
Ariad. Can our chaste queen, searching Apollo's
sister,
Not know those stars that in yon valley glister?
Is virtue strange to heaven ? Can Cynthia
Not know the goodly-form'd Pasithea ?
She who loves greatness to be greatly good,
Knowing fair'st worth from virtue springs, not blood;
Whose graceful just proportion is held such
That what may be judge[d] beauty must have touch
And proof from hers : yet this her least of grace
(Which is the most in most)-her beauty's but the
case
Of fairest mind: when Fortune gave her eyes,
Her worth made Fortune judge she once had eyes.
But see a piece that would strike envy blind,
Whose face would Furies tame, make monsters kind.
He gave her mighty praise and yet no other
But that in mind and form she's like her mother:
Up, raisèd passion, and with paeans follow
Grace of the Muses, daughter of Apollo!
O precious selahs' praise thy worth is under;
He that would limn thy grace must only wonder.
Then views not Cynthia sweet Sophrosyne,
Long honour of most rare virginity,
But now much happy in her noble choice?
In well-link'd nuptials all the gods rejoice.
Next Learn'd Eulogia, bright in gracious rays,
Whose merit faster springeth than my praise;
For whoso strives to give her worth fair due,
Shall find his praise straight old, her merit new.
Cynth. But, look, whose eyes are those that shine
more clear
Than lightning thrown from shield of Jupiter?
See, see, how quick fire leaps from forth her eyes
Which burn all hearts and warm the very skies.
Is't not bright Euthera ?
Ariad. The very same,
But her mind's splendour hath a nobler flame.
But let the gods Eurythia behold,
And let them envy her, face nobly bold,
Proportion all proportion, with a mind
But like itself, no epithet can find.
Cynth. Let's visit them and slide from our abode:
Who loves not virtue leaves to be a god.
Sound, spheres, spread your harmonious breath,
When mortals shine in worth gods grace the
earth.
The clouds descend: while soft music soundeth,Cynthia and Ariadne dismount from their clouds, and,
pacing up to the ladies, Cynthia, perceiving Ariadne wanting her crown of stars, speaks thus :--
Cynth. But where is Ariadne's wreath of stars,
Her eight pure fires that stud with golden bars
Her shining brows ? hath sweet-tongued Mercury
Advanced his sons to station of the sky
And throned them in thy wreath? [or] dost thou leave
Thy splendour off and trust of gods deceive ?
Ariad. Queen of chaste dew, they will not be confined
Or fix themselves where Mercury assign'd,
But every night upon a forest-side,
On which an eagle percheth, they abide,
And honour her with their most raisèd light,
Chaste sports, just praises, and all soft delight,
Vowing their beams to make her presence heaven:
Thus is the glory of my front bereaven.
Cynth. Tell them they err, and say that we, the
Queen
Of night's pale lamps, have now the substance seen
Whose shadow they adore. Go, bring those eight
At mighty Cynthia's summons hither straight.
Let us behold, that mount whilst we salute,
Their faces, 'fore whom no dullness can be mute.
Presently Ariadne sings this short call:--
Music and gentle night,
Beauty, youth's chief delight,
Pleasures all full invite
Your due attendance to this glorious room
Then, if you have or wit or virtue, come,
Oh, come! oh, come!
Suddenly, upon this song, the cornets were winded, and
the traverse that was drawn before the masquers sank
down. The whole show presently appeareth, which presented
itself in this figure : the whole body of it seemed to be
the side of a steeply ascending wood, on the top of
which, in a fair oak, sat a golden eagle, under whose
wings sat, in eight several thrones, the eight masquers,
with visards like stars, their helms like Mercury's, with
the addition of fair plumes of carnation and white, their
antique doublets and other furniture suitable to those
colours, the place full of shields, lights, and pages all
in blue satin robes, embroidered with stars. The
masquers, thus discovered, sat still until Ariadne
pronounced this invocation, at which they descended:
Ariad. Mercurian issue, sons of son of Jove,
By the Cyllenian rod, and by the love
Devotely chaste you vow Pasithea,
Descend : first thou more bright of these
That givest my crown her name, clear Dolopes,
Whose brave descent lets not thy fair heart fall
As born of parents most heroical,
Who vows himself, his life, his sword and fortune
To her whose constant goodness doth importune
More than he is: descend! Next him,
Auctolius, Of nimble spirit slide to honour us;
Faithfull'st Evander; clear-soul'd Erythus;
The hopeful Prilis and sweet Polybus;
And thou, true son of quick-brain'd Mercury,
Dear-loved Myrtillus, with that bright soul mix'd,
Experienced Lares, that at last is fix'd
After much danger in securer sphere.
Here all with wishèd easiness appear,
And O, if ever you were worth the grace
Of viewing majesty in mortal's face,
If e'er to perfect worth you vow'd heart's duty,
Show spirit worth your virtues and their beauty.
The violins upon
this played a new measure, to which
the masquers danced; and ceasing,
Cynthia spake :--
Stay a little, and now breathe ye,
Whilst these ladies grace bequeath ye;
Then mix fair hands, and gently ease ye,
Cynthia charms hence what may displease ye.
From ladies that are rudely coy,
Barring their loves from modest joy,
From ignorant silence, and proud looks,
From those that answer out of books,
From those that hate our chaste delight,
I bless the fortune of each starry Knight.
From gallants who still court with oaths,
From those whose only grace is clothes,
From bumbast stockings, vile leg-makers,
From beards and great tobacco-takers,
I bless the fortune of each starry dame.
Sing, that my charm may be more strong
The gods are bound by verse and song.
The Song.
Audacious night makes bold the lip,
Now all court chaster pleasure,
Whilst to Apollo's harp you trip,
And tread the gracing measure.
Cynth. Now meet, now break, then feign a warlike sally;
So Cynthia sports, and so the gods may dally.
Judicious wit, now raise thy brain,
Now heat thy nimbler spirit,
Show what delicious faces strain;
Much passion shows much merit.
Cynth. Now meet, now break, then feign a warlike
sally ;
So Cynthia sports, and so the gods may dally.
Lascivious youth not dare to speak
The language of loose city;
He that Diana's bonds doth break
Is held most rudely witty.
Cynth. Now meet, now break, then feign a warlike sally;
So Cynthia sports, and so the gods may dally.
Disgracious dullness yet much mars
The shape of courtly talking;
He that can silent touch such stars
His soul lies in his walking.
Cynth. Now meet, now break, then feign a warlike sally;
So Cynthia sports, and so the gods may dally.
During this song, the masquers presented their shields,
and took forth their ladies to dance. After they had
danced many measures, galliards, corantos, and levaltos,
the night being much spent, whilst the masquers prepared
themselves for their departing measure, Cynthia spake
thus :--
Cynth. Now pleasing rest; for, see the night
(Wherein pale Cynthia claims her right)
Is almost spent; the morning grows,
The rose and violet she strows
Upon the high celestial floor,
'Gainst Phoebus rise from paramour.
The Fairies, that my shades pursue,
And bathe their feet in my cold dew,
Now leave their ringlets and be quiet,
Lest my brother's eye should spy it.
Then now let every gracious star
Avoid at sound of Phoebus' car;
Into your proper place retire,
With bosoms full of beauty's fire;
Hence must slide the Queen of Floods,
For day begins to gild the woods.
Then whilst we sing, though you depart,
I'll swear that here you leave your heart.
The eclogue which a despairing shepherd spake to a
nymph at my Lady's departure :--
Stay, fair Beliza, and, whilst Heaven throws
On the crack'd earth
His burning breath,
O hear thy Dorus' woes,
Whose cause and cure only Beliza knows.
See now the god of flames in full pomp rides,
And now each lass
On flowery grass
By the cool fountain sides
With quiet bosom and soft ease abides.
Do you so too, for see this bounteous spring:
Pray thee sit down,
Then shall I crown
Thy brows with flowery ring,
Whilst thus with shepherd's homely voice I sing.
He sang a passionate ditty; which done, he spake
thus :--
Shep. Now, fairest, deign once to impart,
Did ever live so coy a lass
Who unto love was never moved?
Nymph. Yes, shepherd, she that hath the heart
And is resolved her life to pass
Neither to love or be beloved.
Shep. She senseless lives without affection.
Nymph. Yet happy lives without subjection.
Shep. To be pluck'd are roses blown,
To be mow'd are meadows grown [sown?],
Gems are made but to be shown,
And woman's best--
Nymph. To keep her own.
Shep. Well, shepherdess, still hate to love me;
No scorn from my fix'd vow shall move me.
When sheep to finest grass have loathing,
When courtiers shall disdain rich clothing,
When shepherds shun their mayday's sports,
Green sickness when 'tis rife in courts,
O then, and not till then, I'll hate
Beliza, my sole love and fate.
Nymph. When love in daughters shall ascend
For simple Piety's sole end,
When any child her mother graces
With all she can, yet all defaces
In her fair thought the faith she oweth
(Though what she can she freely showeth);
Then, shepherd, mayst thou hope attend,
For then my hate shall have an end.
Shep. Thou'rt mine, Beliza; for behold
All the hopes thy wishes crave,
All the best the world can have,
Here these happy characters unfold;
Which who dares but once deny,
In the most just and fair defence
Of her love's highest excellence,
I of thousands am the weak'st will die :
From which, O deign to give this touch,
Who gives what he can get, gives much.
[The Shepherd presented a scarf.
Farewell, farewell !
Joy, Love, Peace, Health in you long dwell,
With our farewell, farewell !
So the Countess passed on until she came through the
little park, where Niobe presented her with a cabinet and
so departed.
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