Chapter XXXIII: Prologue: TO

THE PILGRIM.

REVIVED FOR OUR AUTHOR'S BENEFIT, ANNO 1700.

How wretched is the fate of those who write!
Brought muzzled to the stage, for fear they bite;
Where, like Tom Dove[63], they stand the common foe,
Lugged by the critic, baited by the beau.
Yet, worse, their brother poets damn the play,
And roar the loudest, though they never pay.
The fops are proud of scandal, for they cry,
At every lewd, low character,--That's I.
He, who writes letters to himself, would swear,
The world forgot him, if he was not there.
What should a poet do? 'Tis hard for one }
To pleasure all the fools that would be shown; }
And yet not two in ten will pass the town. }
Most coxcombs are not of the laughing kind;
More goes to make a fop, than fops can find.
Quack Maurus[64], though he never took degrees
In either of our universities[65],
Yet to be shown by some kind wit he looks,
Because he played the fool, and writ three books.
But if he would be worth a poet's pen,
He must be more a fool, and write again:
For all the former fustian stuff he wrote
Was dead-born doggrel, or is quite forgot;
His man of Uz, stript of his Hebrew robe,
Is just the proverb, and "As poor as Job."
One would have thought he could no longer jog;
But Arthur was a level, Job's a bog.
There though he crept, yet still he kept in sight;
But here he founders in, and sinks downright.
Had he prepared us, and been dull by rule,
Tobit had first been turned to ridicule;
But our bold Briton, without fear or awe,
O'erleaps at once the whole Apocrypha;
Invades the Psalms with rhymes, and leaves no room
For any Vandal Hopkins yet to come.
But when, if, after all, this godly gear
Is not so senseless as it would appear,
Our mountebank has laid a deeper train; }
His cant, like Merry Andrew's noble vein, }
Cat-calls the sects to draw them in again. }
At leisure hours in Epic Song he deals,
Writes to the rumbling of his coach's wheels[66];
Prescribes in haste, and seldom kills by rule,
But rides triumphant between stool and stool.
Well, let him go,--'tis yet too early day
To get himself a place in farce or play;
We know not by what name we should arraign him,
For no one category can contain him.
A pedant, canting preacher, and a quack,
Are load enough to break an ass's back.
At last, grown wanton, he presumed to write, }
Traduced two kings, their kindness to requite; }
One made the Doctor, and one dubbed the Knight.[67] }

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 63: The savage amusement of bear-baiting was much in fashion in England during the seventeenth century. Tom Dove, although equipped with a name not very expressive of his properties, seems to have been a bear of great celebrity. Dryden honours him by another notice in the second Prologue on the Union of the Companies:

They roar so loud, you'd think, behind the stairs,
Tom Dove, and all the brotherhood of bears.]

[Footnote 64: Quack Maurus is the noted Sir Richard Blackmore, who, if he was not witty himself, was the cause of more wit in others than most who have favoured the world with their writings. In his Satire against Wit, he had proposed a sort of mint, in which the works of the witty should be purified and re-coined:

'Tis true, that, when the coarse and worthless dross
Is purged away, there will be mighty loss:
Even Congreve, Southerne, Manly, Wycherly,
When thus refined, will grievous sufferers be:
Into the melting-pot when Dryden comes,
What horrid stench will rise, what noisome!
How will he shrink when all his lewd allay
And wicked mixture shall be purged away?

In the first edition of the Poem, this lumbering attack upon Dryden concluded with a compliment:

But what remains will be so pure, 'twill bear
The examination of the most severe.

But Blackmore, when our author had retaliated upon him in the Preface to the Fables, "finding," says Dr Johnson, "the censure resented, and the civility disregarded, ungenerously omitted the softer part. Such variations discover a writer who consults his passions more than his virtue, and it may be reasonably supposed that Dryden attributes his enmity to its true cause,"--his attack upon Blackmore's fanatic patrons in the city. He had also assailed our author in the Preface to his "Prince Arthur;" which, after a general and bitter complaint of the profligacy of the stage, contains these personal remarks levelled against Dryden. "And there are, among these writers, some who think they might have arisen to the highest dignities in other professions, had they employed their wit in those ways. 'Tis a mighty dishonour and reproach to any man, that is capable of being useful to the world in any liberal or virtuous profession, to lavish out his life and wit in propagating vice and corruption of manners, and in battering from the stage the strongest entrenchments and best works of religion and virtue. Whoever makes this his choice, when the other was in his power, may he go off the stage unpitied, complaining of _neglect_ and _poverty_, the just punishment of his irreligion and folly." This reproach, which touched some very tender points, was not to be tolerated or forgot by Dryden.]

[Footnote 65: Blackmore was a commoner of Edmund Hall, Oxford, where he remained thirteen years, and took the degree of Master of Arts on 3d June, 1676; but he did not take his medical degrees there, and appears not to have studied physic regularly, as he was for some time a school-master; when, according to Col. Coddrington,

By nature formed, by want a pedant made,
Blackmore at first set up the whipping trade;
Next quack commenced, when fierce with pride he swore,
That toothache, gout, and corns, should be no more:
In vain his drugs, as well as birch he plied,
His boys grow blockheads, and his patients died.

Sir Richard Blackmore had his medical diploma from Padua, in Italy; a learned and eminent University, which, like some in my own country, is supposed not to be over scrupulous in conferring honours of this nature.]

[Footnote 66: "Prince Arthur," a heroic poem, in ten books, published in 1695, was written, the author assures us in his Preface, "by such catches and starts, and in such occasional uncertain hours, as his profession afforded, and for the greatest part in coffee-houses, or in passing up and down the streets."]

[Footnote 67: Who was the first of these well-judging monarchs, is hard to say. Blackmore may have had some sort of royal licence for the practice of physic during the reign of Charles or James; but he was not made physician to the Household till the reign of King William, who conferred on him, at the same time, the honour of knighthood; for which that monarch's taste is thus commemorated by Pope:

The hero William, and the martyr Charles,
One knighted Blackmore, and one pensioned Quarles.

Blackmore's dulness, or solidity of temper, rendered him absolutely impenetrable to the shafts of ridicule, which were aimed at him from all quarters; and, consoling himself with the excellence of his intentions, he wrote on till the catalogue of his works gave room for Swift's burlesque inscription, to be placed under his picture:

See, who ne'er was, or will be half read,
Who first sung Arthur, then sung Alfred(_a_).
Praised great Eliza(_b_) in God's anger,
Till all true Englishmen cried, hang her:
Made William's virtues wipe the bare a--,
And hanged up Marlborough in arras;(_c_)
Then hissed from earth, grown heavenly quite,
Made every reader curse the light(_d_).
Mauled human wit in one thick satire(_e_);
Next, in three books, spoiled human nature(_f_);
Ended Creation(_g_) at a jerk,
And of Redemption(_h_) made damned work:
Then took his muse at once, and dipped her
Full in the middle of the scripture.
What wonders there the man grown old did!
Sternhold himself he out-sternholded;
Made David(_i_) seem so mad and freakish,
All thought him just what thought king Achish.
No mortal read his Solomon(_k_),
But judged R'oboam his own son.
Moses(_l_) he served, as Moses Pharoah,
And Deborah as she Sisera;
Made Jeremy(_m_) full sore to cry,
And Job(_n_) himself curse God and die.
What punishment shall all this follow?
Shall Arthur use him like king Tollo?
Shall David as Uriah slay him?
Or dexterous Deborah Siserhah him?
Or shall Eliza lay a plot,
To treat him like her sister Scot?
Shall William dubb his better end(_o_)?
Of Marlborough serve him like a friend?
No, none of these--heaven spare his life,
But send him, honest Job--thy wife.

(_a_) _Two Heroic Poems, in folio; twenty books._
(_b_) _A Heroic Poem, in twelve books._
(_c_) _Instructions to a Tapestry Weaver._
(_d_) _Hymn to the Light._
(_e_) _Satire against Wit._
(_f_) _Of the Mature of Man._
(_g_) _Creation, in seven books._
(_h_) _Redemption, in six books._
(_i_) _Translation of all the Psalms._
(_k_) _Canticles and Ecclesiastes._
(_l_) _Canticles, of Moses, Deborah, &c._
(_m_) _The Lamentations._
(_n_) _The whole Book of Job, a Poem, in folio._
(_o_) _Kick him on the breech, not knight him on the shoulder._]

SONG

OF A SCHOLAR AND HIS MISTRESS, WHO, BEING CROSSED BY THEIR
FRIENDS, FELL MAD FOR ONE ANOTHER, AND NOW FIRST MEET IN BEDLAM.

In "The Pilgrim," as originally written by Beaumont and Fletcher, one scene is laid in a mad-house, where the humours of the different persons confined are described with some pleasantry. Amongst others is introduced a Scholar, who has solicited dismission from his confinement, and who, after having been carefully examined by two gentlemen, whom his patron had appointed to visit him, is on the point of being discharged as possessed of his perfect understanding. The Dialogue, which follows, probably formed the introduction to our Author's Song.

_1st Gent._ What flaws and whils of weather,
Or rather storms, have been aloft these three days!
How dark and hot, and full of mutiny,
And still grows louder.--

_Mas._ It has been stubborn weather.

_2d Gent._ Strange work at sea: I fear me there's old tumbling.

_1st Gent._ Bless my old uncle's bark! I have a venture.

_2d Gent._ And I more than I'd wish to lose.

_Schol._ Do you fear?

_2nd Gent._ Ha! how he looks!

_Mas._ Nay, mark him better, gentlemen.

_2d Gent._ Mercy upon me! how his eyes are altered!

_Mas._ Now, tell me how you like him; whether now
He be that perfect man you credited?

_Schol._ Does the sea stagger ye?

_Mas._ Now ye have hit the nick.

_Schol._ Do ye fear the billows?

_1st Gent._ What ails him? who has stirred him?

_Schol._ Be not shaken,
Nor let the singing of the storm shoot through you:
Let it blow on, blow on! Let the clouds wrestle,
And let the vapours of the earth turn mutinous;
The sea in hideous mountains rise, and tumble
Upon a dolphin's back! I'll make all tremble,
For I am Neptune!

_Mas._ Now, what think ye of him?

_2d Gent._ Alas, poor man!

_Schol._ Your bark shall plow through all,
And not a surge so saucy as disturb her.
I'll see her safe; my power shall sail before her.
Down, ye angry waters all,
Ye loud whistling whirlwinds, fall!
Down, ye proud waves, ye storms cease;
I command ye, be at peace!
Fright not with your churlish notes,
Nor bruise the keel of bark that floats
No devouring fish come nigh,
Nor monster in my empery,
Once shew his head, or terror bring,
But let the weary sailor sing.
Amphitrite, with white arms,
Strike my lute, I'll sing thy charms.

_Mas._ He must have music now; I must observe him;
This fit will grow too full else.

[_Music and Song._]

Here it seems probable the following Mad Song, betwixt the Scholar and his Mistress, was introduced. Probably the Dialogue sustained some alterations in the action, to render the introduction of Phillis more natural; for, in the original, the Scholar, far from having lost his senses by being crossed in love, disclaims acquaintance with the passion during his previous examination.

_1st Gent._ Is there no unkindness
You have conceived from any friend or parent,
Or scorn from what you loved?

_Schol._ No, truly, sir,
I never yet was master of a faith
So poor and weak to doubt my friend or kindred;
And what love is, unless it be in learning,
I think I'm ignorant.

This passage is retained in "The Pilgrim," as altered by Sir John Vanburgh; so that it does not appear what alterations were made, to accommodate the Song to the Scholar's previous appearance. The idea of the character is copied from the story told by the Curate, in the First Chapter of the Second Part of the Adventures of the Knight of La Mancha, and applied by him to the relapse of that doughty champion.

SONG.

MUSIC WITHIN.

_The Lovers enter at opposite Doors, each held by a Keeper._

_Phil._ Look, look, I see--I see my love appear!
'Tis he, 'tis he alone,
For like him there is none:
'Tis the dear, dear man, 'tis thee, dear.

_Amyn._ Hark! the winds war,
The foaming waves roar:
I see a ship afar,
Tossing and tossing, and making to the shore.
But what's that I view,
So radiant of hue,
St Hermo, St Hermo[68], that sits upon the sails?
Ah! no, no, no.
St Hermo never, never shone so bright;
'Tis Phillis! only Phillis can shoot so fair a light;
'Tis Phillis, 'tis Phillis, that saves the ship alone,
For all the winds are hushed, and the storm is overblown.

_Phil._ Let me go, let me run, let me fly to his arms.

_Amyn._ If all the fates combine,
And all the furies join,
I'll force my way to Phillis, and break through the charm.

[_Here they break from their Keepers, run to each other, and
embrace._

_Phil._ Shall I marry the man I love?
And shall I conclude my pains?
Now blessed be the powers above,
I feel the blood bound in my veins!
With a lively leap it began to move,
And the vapours leave my brains.

_Amyn._ Body joined to body, and heart joined to heart,
To make sure of the cure,
Go, call the man in black, to mumble o'er his part.

_Phil._ But suppose he should stay--

_Amyn._ At worst, if he delay,
'Tis a work must be done;
We'll borrow but a day,
And the better the sooner begun.

_Cho. of both._ At worst, if he delay, &c.

[_They run out together, hand in hand._

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 68: The meteoric appearances, called by sailors in the Mediterranean the Lights of St Elmo, and by the ancients, Castor and Pollux. Their appearance is supposed to presage the safety of the vessel, and the termination of the storm.]

THE

SECULAR MASQUE.

The moral of this emblematical representation is sufficiently intelligible. By the introduction of the deities of the chace, of war, and of love, as governing the various changes of the seventeenth century, the poet alludes to the sylvan sports of James the First, the bloody wars of his son, and the licentious gallantry which reigned in the courts of Charles II. and James his successor.

James I. was inordinately attached to the sports of the chace: it was indeed the only manly passion which our British Solomon ever manifested; his dress was of the forest-green, and his only severity was in executing the game-laws[69]. Able hunters were the bribes by which the English courtiers endeavoured to secure his favour[70], while he was yet but king of Scotland; and, in England, his perpetual hunting expeditions were censured by his prelates[71], and their oppressive duration deprecated by his subjects, who, to render their complaints more palatable, contrived, upon one occasion, to make a favourite hound convey a hint of the burthen, which his long residence at a hunting seat imposed upon the neighbourhood[72]. Even in the most advanced state of his age and imbecility, when unable to sit on horseback without assistance, he contrived to pursue the chace by being laced or tied up in his saddle! When we add to this vehement passion for hunting, the spirit of extravagant dissipation, which discharged itself "in shows, sights, and banquetings, from morn to eve[73]," where even the ladies abandoned their sobriety, the age of James might well be characterised, as in the Masque,

A very merry, dancing, drinking,
Laughing, quaffing, and unthinking time.

To show how justly the middle part of the seventeenth century was characterised, as under the influence of Mars, we have only to mention the great civil war, which so long ravaged the whole kingdom.

The manners of the court of Charles II., so notoriously dissolute and licentious, when, as our author says in the Epilogue,

Whitehall the naked Venus first revealed,

amply vindicate Dryden for placing the period in which they were fashionable under the dominion of the queen of Cyprus.

The moral, by which the whole masque is winded up, was sadly true. The frivolity of James the First's sports would have been admitted by the sapient monarch himself--

His sport had a beast in view.

But it is less credible, were it not a historical fact, that the wars of Charles the First "brought nothing about;" since royal prerogative, and popular encroachment, far from being adjusted by so many years bloodshed, were as much themes of mutual dissention betwixt the Court and the House of Commons in the reign of Charles II. as during that of his father. But so bloody a lesson was not entirely lost. The contending parties at the Revolution lived too near that eventful period, not to be aware of the direful consequences of civil war, and thence, by mutual concession, were determined to avoid the repetition of similar calamities. The nation gained by the compromise; for freedom is always benefited by the equal balance of contending factions, and as certainly suffers by the decided ascendancy of either.

A thousand lampoons bear witness, that, during the reign of Venus, under the auspices of Charles II. her

----Lovers were all untrue.

The modern reader will find the most decent, and, at the same time, the most lively record of their infidelities, in Count Hamilton's _Memoires du Compte de Grammont_.

From the "Secular Masque" being performed in the beginning of the year 1700, it appears, that, by a blunder, or rather confusion of ideas, the century was supposed to terminate with 1699; in other words, a hundred years were considered as accomplished when the hundredth was just commenced:--an error of calculation which, though it could not puzzle a horse-jockey, who, if he was to ride twenty miles, would hardly think he had accomplished the match by riding nineteen, did, nevertheless, find patrons in the year 1800, though hardly any of such account as Dryden.

The original music of the Masque was very much approved. It is mentioned in the Travels of John Buncle. Mr Malone believes Daniel Purcel to have been the composer. It was set anew by Dr Boyce, and afterwards revived with success at Drury-Lane in 1749. The hunting song was long popular.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 69: "Nay, I dare boldly say, one man might with more safety have killed another, than a rascal deer: but if a stag had been known to have miscarried, and the author fled, a proclamation, with a description of the party, had been presently penned by the Attorney-general, and the penalty of his Majesty's high displeasure (by which was understood the Star-Chamber) threatened against all that did abet, comfort, or relieve him. Thus satirical, or, if you please, tragical, was this sylvan prince against deer-killers, and indulgent to men-slayers. But, lest this expression should be thought too poetical for an historian, I shall leave him dressed to posterity in the colours I saw him in the next progress after his inauguration; which was as green as the grass he trod on, with a feather in his cap, and a horn, instead of a sword, by his side: how suitable to his age, calling, or complexion, I leave others to judge from his pictures; he owning a countenance not in the least semblable to any my eyes ever met with, besides an host, dwelling in Amt-hill, formerly a shepherd, and so metaphorically of the same profession."--_Osborne's Traditional Memorials_, § 17.]

[Footnote 70: "I have sent the kyng," says Thomas Randolph, in a letter to the infamous Archibald Douglas, "two hunting men, very good and skillful, with one footman, that can whoop, hollow, and cry, that all the trees in Falkland will quake for fear. Pray the king's majesty to be merciful to the poor bucks." _Murdin's State Papers_, vol. ii. p. 558.]

[Footnote 71: The archbishop of York, in a remarkable letter to Lord Cranbourne, expresses his wish for "more moderation in the lawful exercise of hunting, both that poor men's corn may be less spoiled, and other his Majesty's subjects more spared." To this Lord Cranbourne answers, courtier-like, that, as it was a praise in the good Emperor Trajan, to be disposed to such manlike and active recreations, so it ought to be a joy to the English to behold a prince, of so able a constitution, promising long life and a numerous progeny. _Lodge's Illustrations of English History_, vol. iii. pp. 251, 263]

[Footnote 72: "There is no news we hear, but a reasonable pretty jest is spoken that happened at Royston.--There was one of the king's special hounds, called Jowler, missing one day; the king was much displeased that he was wanted, notwithstanding went a hunting. The next day, when they were in the field, Jowler came in among the rest of the hounds; the king was told of him, and was very glad, and, looking on him, spied a paper about his neck, and in the paper was written--'Good Mr Jowler,--We pray you speak to the king, for he hears you every day, and so doth he not us; that it will please his Majesty to go back to London, for else the country will be undone. All our provision is spent already, and we are not able to entertain him longer.' It was taken for a jest, and so passed over, for his Majesty intends to lye there yet a fortnight." _Lodge's Illustrations_, vol. iii. p. 245. There is also in the _Nugæ Antiquæ_, a most singular letter of the king's, praying God to thank the master of the horse, for providing him such fair well shaped horse, and such a fine pretty kennel of young hounds. Vol. i. p. 394.]

[Footnote 73: See the _Nugæ Antiquæ_. In vol. i. p. 349. of Mr Park's excellent edition, Sir John Harrington gives the following extraordinary account of one of King James's revels with Christian IV. of Denmark.--"One day a great feast was held, and, after dinner, the representation of Solomon his Temple, and the coming of the queen of Sheba, was made (or, as I may better say) was meant to have been made, before their majesties, by device of the earl of Salisbury and others. But, alas! as all earthly things do fail to poor mortals in enjoyment, so did prove our presentment hereof. The ladie, who did play the queen's part, did carry most precious gifts to both their majesties; but, forgetting the steps arising to the canopy, overset her caskets into his Danish majesties lap, and fell at his feet, though I rather think it was in his face. Much was the hurry and confusion; clothes and napkins were at hand to make all clean. His majesty then got up, and would dance with the queen of Sheba, but he fell down and humbled himself before her, and was carried to an inner chamber, and laid upon a bed of state, which was not a little defiled with the presents of the queen, which had been bestowed on his garments; such as wine, cream, jelly, beverage, cakes, spices, and other good matters. The entertainment and show _went forward_, and most of the presenters _went backward_, or fell down: wine did so occupy their upper chambers. Now did appear, in rich dresses, Hope, Faith, and Charity: Hope did essay to speak, but wine rendered her endeavours so feeble, that she withdrew, and _hoped_ the king would excuse her brevity: Faith was then left all alone, for I am certain she was not joined with good works, and left the court in a staggering condition: Charity came to the king's feet, and seemed to cover the multitude of sins her sisters had committed; in some sort she made obeisance, and brought gifts, but said she would return home again, as there was no gift which heaven had not already given his majesty. She then returned to Hope and Faith, who were both sick, and spewing in the lower hall. Next came Victory, in bright armour, and presented a rich sword to the king, who did not accept it, but put it by with his hand, and by a strange medley of versification, did endeavour to make suit to the king. But Victory did not triumph long; for, after much lamentable utterance, she was led away like a silly captive, and laid to sleep on the outer steps of the anti-chamber. Now did Peace make entry, and strove to get foremost to the king; but I grieve to tell how great wrath she did discover unto those of her attendants, and, much contrary to her semblance, most rudely made war with her olive-branch, and laid on the pates of those who did oppose her coming. I have much marvelled at these strange pageantries; and they do bring to my remembrance what past of this sort in our queen's days, of which I was sometime a humble presenter and assistant, but I ne'er did see such lack of good order, discretion, and sobriety, as I have now done. I have passed much time in seeing the royal sports of hunting and hawking, where the manners were such as made me devise the beasts were pursuing the sober creation, and not man, in quest of exercise and food. I will now, in good sooth, declare to you, who will not blab, that the gun-powder fright is got out of all our heads, and we are going on hereabouts as if the devil was contriving every man should blow up himself by wild riot, excess, and devastation of time and temperance."--_Ibid. Letter from Sir John Harrington to Mr Secretary Barlow, 1606._]

THE

SECULAR MASQUE.

_Enter_ JANUS.

_Janus._ Chronos, Chronos, mend thy pace;
An hundred times the rolling sun
Around the radiant belt has run
In his revolving race.
Behold, behold, the goal in sight,
Spread thy fans, and wing thy flight.

_Enter_ CHRONOS, _with a Scythe in his hand, and a Globe on his
back; which he sets down at his entrance_.

_Chronos._ Weary, weary of my weight,
Let me, let me drop my freight,
And leave the world behind.
I could not bear,
Another year,
The load of humankind.

_Enter_ MOMUS, _laughing_.

_Momus._ Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! well hast thou done,
To lay down thy pack,
And lighten thy back,
The world was a fool, e'er since it begun;
And since neither Janus, nor Chronos, nor I,
Can hinder the crimes,
Or mend the bad times,
'Tis better to laugh than to cry.

Cho. of all three. _'Tis better to laugh than to cry._

_Janus._ Since Momus comes to laugh below,
Old Time begin the show,
That he may see, in every scene,
What changes in this age have been.

_Chronos._ Then, goddess of the silver bow, begin.

[_Horns, or hunting-music, within._]

_Enter_ DIANA.

_Dia._ With horns and with hounds, I waken the day,
And hie to the woodland-walks away;
I tuck up my robe, and am buskined soon,
And tie to my forehead a wexing moon.
I course the fleet stag, unkennel the fox,
And chace the wild goats o'er summits of rocks;
With shouting and hooting we pierce through the sky,
And Echo turns hunter, and doubles the cry.

Cho. of all. _With shouting and hooting we pierce through the sky,
And Echo turns hunter, and doubles the cry._

_Janus._ Then our age was in its prime:

_Chronos._ Free from rage,

_Diana._ ----And free from crime.

_Momus._ A very merry, dancing, drinking,
Laughing, quaffing, and unthinking time.

Cho. of all. _Then our age was in its prime,
Free from rage, and free from crime;
A very merry, dancing, drinking,
Laughing, quaffing, and unthinking time._

[_Dance of_ DIANA'S _Attendants._]

_Enter_ MARS.

_Mars._ Inspire the vocal brass, inspire;
The world is past its infant age:
Arms and honour,
Arms and honour,
Set the martial mind on fire,
And kindle manly rage.
Mars has looked the sky to red;
And Peace, the lazy God,[74] is fled.
Plenty, peace, and pleasure fly;
The sprightly green,
In woodland-walks, no more is seen;
The sprightly green has drunk the Tyrian dye.

Cho. of all. _Plenty, peace, &c._

_Mars._ Sound the trumpet, beat the drum;
Through all the world around,
Sound a reveillé, sound, sound,
The warrior god is come.

Cho. of all. _Sound the trumpet, &c._

_Momus._ Thy sword within the scabbard keep,
And let mankind agree;
Better the world were fast asleep,
Than kept awake by thee.
The fools are only thinner,
With all our cost and care;
But neither side a winner,
For things are as they were.

Cho. of all. _The fools are only, &c._

_Enter_ VENUS.

_Venus._ Calms appear, when storms are past;
Love will have his hour at last:
Nature is my kindly care;
Mars destroys, and I repair;
Take me, take me, while you may,
Venus comes not every day.

Cho. of all. _Take her, take her, &c._

_Chronos._ The world was then so light,
I scarcely felt the weight;
Joy ruled the day, and Love the night.
But, since the queen of pleasure left the ground,[75]
I faint, I lag,
And feebly drag
The ponderous orb around.

_Momus._ All, all of a piece throughout;
Thy chace had a beast in view; [_Pointing to_ DIANA.
Thy wars brought nothing about; [_To_ MARS.
Thy lovers were all untrue. [_To_ VENUS.

_Janus._ 'Tis well an old age is out,

_Chronos._ And time to begin a new.

Cho. of all. _All, all of a piece throughout;
Thy chace had a beast in view:--
Thy wars brought nothing about;--
Thy lovers were all untrue.--
'Tis well an old age is out,
And time to begin a new._
[Dance of Huntsmen, Nymphs, Warriors, and Lovers.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 74: The first edition, and some others, have _Good_; but I prefer _God_, as the more poetical reading.]

[Footnote 75: There seems here to be a secret allusion to the exile of the beautiful queen of James II., so much admired by the Tory poets of the time.]