Sing, dance, and play,
'T' is holyday;
The Sun does bravely shine
On our ears of corn.
Rich as a pearl
Comes every girl,
This is mine, this is mine, this is mine;
Let us die, ere away they be borne.
Bow to the Sun, to our queen, and that fair one,
Come to behold our sports :
Each bonny lass here is counted a rare one,
As those in princes' courts.
These and we,
With country glee,
Will teach the woods to resound,
And the hills with echoes hollow :
Skipping lambs
Their bloating dams,
Mongst kids, shall trip it round;
For joy thus our lasses we follow.
Wind, jolly huntsmen, your neat bugles shrilly,
Hounds make a lusty cry;
Spring up, you falconers, the partridges freely
Then let your brave hawks fly.
Horses amain,
Over ridge, over plain,
The dogs have the stag in chase:
'Tis a sport to content a king.
So ho ho! through the skies
How the proud bird flies,
And sousing kills with a grace!
Now the deer falls; hark! how they ring-
[The Sun by degrees is clouded. Sum. Leave off; the Sun is angry, and has drawn A cloud before his face.
Del. He is vex'd to see
That proud star shine so near you, at whose rising The Spring fell sick and died; think what I told
you, His coyness will kill you else.
Suin. It cannot.–Fair prince,
Though your illustrious name has touch'd mine ear,
Till now I never saw you; nor never saw
A man whom I more love, more hate.
Ray. Ha, lady!
Sum. For him I love you, from whose glittering
rays You boast your great name; for that name I hate
you, Because you kill'd my mother and my nurse.
[Flourish.—Exit, followed by Plen. and Del. Ray. Divinest! Hum. Let her go.
Fol. And I'll go after; for I must and will have a fling at one of her plum-trees.
Ray. I ne'er was scorn'd till now.
Hum. Be ruled by me once more; leave her.
Ray. In scorn,
As she does me.
Hum. Thou shalt have nobler welcome; for I'll
bring thee To a brave and bounteous housekeeper, free Autumn. Fol. Oh, there's a lad !-let's go then.
Re-enter PLENTY.
Plen. Where is this prince? my mother, for the
Indies,
Must not have you depart.
Ray. Must not?
Re-enter SUMMER.
Sum. No, must not.
I did but chide thee, like a whistling wind,
Playing with leafy dancers: when I told thee
I hated thee, I lied; I dote upon thee.
Unlock my garden of the Hesperides,
By dragons kept (the apples being pure gold),
Take all that fruit; 't is thine.
Plen. Love but my mother,
I'll give thee corn enough to feed the world.
Ray. I need not golden apples, nor your corn;
What land soe'er the world's surveyor, the Sun,
Can measure in a day, I dare call mine:
All kingdoms I have right to; I am free
Of every country; in the four elements
I have as deep a share as an emperor;
All beasts whom the earth bears are to serve me,
All birds to sing to me; and can you catch me
With a tempting golden apple ?
Plen. She's too good for thee. When she was born, the Sun for joy did rise Before his time, only to kiss those eyes, Which having touch'd, he stole from them such
Of lights, he shone more bright than e'er before;
At which he vow'd whenever she did die,
He'd snatch them up, and in his sister's sphere
Place them, since she had no two stars so clear.
Ray. Let him now snatch them up; away!
Hum. Away,
And leave this gipsy.
Sum. Oh, I am lost.
Ray. Lost?
Sum. Scorn'd!
Ray. Of no triumph more then love can boast.
[Exit with HUMOUR and FOLLY.
[Recorders.
The Sun reappears, with CUPID and FORTUNE. Sun. Is Raybright gone?
Sum. Yes, and his spiteful eyes Have shot darts through me.
Sun. I thy wounds will cure,
And lengthen out thy days;' his followers gone?
Cupid and Fortune, take you charge of him.
Here thou, my brightest queen, must end thy reign;
Some nine months hence I'll shine on thee again.
[Exeunt.
The Court of AUTUMN.
Enter POMONA, RAYBRIGHT, CUPID, and FORTUNE.
Ray. Your entertainments, Autumn's bounteous
queen,
Have feasted me with rarities as delicate
As the full growth of an abundant year:
Can ripen to my palate.
Pom. They are but courtings
Of gratitude to our dread lord, the Sun,
From whom thou draw'st thy name: the feast of
fruits
Our gardens yield are much too coarse for thee;
Could we contract the choice of nature's plenty
Into one form, and that form to contain
All delicacies which the wanton sense
Would relish, or desire to invent to please it,
The present were unworthy far to purchase
A sacred league of friendship.
Ray. I have rioted
In surfeits of the ear, with various music
Of warbling birds; I have smelt perfumes of roses,
And every flower with which the fresh-trimm'd
earth Is mantled in: the Spring could mock my senses
1 I thy wounds will cure,
And lengthen out thy days.) The Sun takes a strange way to lengthen out the days of Summer, by putting an instant end to them. It must be confessed, that the god acts very capriciously in this scene, and that Summer, considering her short stay, is most ungently treated on all sides.--GIFFORN,
Vol. II.-11
With these fine barren lullabies; the Summer
Invited my then ranging eyes to look on
Large fields of ripen'd corn, presenting trifles
Of waterish petty dainties; but my taste
Is only here pleas’d: the other objects claim
The style of formal, these are real bounties.
Pom. We can transcend thy wishes; whom the
creatures
Of every age and quality post, madding
From land to land and sea to sea, to meet,
Shall wait upon thy nod, Fortune and Cupid.
Love! yield thy quiver and thine arrows up
To this great prince of time; before him, Fortune!
Pour out thy mint of treasures; crown him sovereign
Of what his thoughts can glory to command:
He shall give payment of a royal prize,
To Fortune judgment, and to Cupid eyes.
For. Be a merchant, I will freight thee
With all store that time is bought for. Cup. Be a lover, I will wait thee
With success in life most sought for. For. Be enamour'd on bright honour,
And thy greatness shall shine glorious. Cup. Chastity, if thou smile on her,
Shall grow servile, thou victorious. For. Be a warrior, conquest ever
Shall triumphantly renown thee.
Cup. Be a courtier, beauty never
Shall but with her duty crown thee.
For. Fortune's wheel is thine, depose me;
I'm thy slave, thy power has bound me.
Cup. Cupid's shafts are thine, dispose me ; ;
Love loves love; thy graces wound me.
Both. Live, reign! pity is fame's jewel;
We obey; oh! be not cruel.
Ray. You ravish me with infinites, and lay
A bounty of more sovereignty and amazement,
Than the Atlas of mortality can support.
|