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VIII. A SONG.

A sigh or tear, perhaps, she'll give,
But love on pity cannot live.
Tell her that hearts for hearts were made,
And love with love is only paid.
Tell her my pains so fast increase,
That soon they will be past redress;
But ah! the wretch, that speechless lies,
Attends but death to close his eyes.

XI.

High state and honours to others impart,

But give me your heart:
That treasure, that treasure alone,

I beg for my own.
So gentle a love, so fervent a fire,

My soul does inspire;
That treasure, that treasure alone,

I beg for my own.
Your love let me crave;

Give me in possessing

So matchless a blessing;
That empire is all I would have.

Love's my petition,
All my ambition ;
If e'er you discover
So faithful a lover,
So real a flame,
I'll die, I'll die.
So give up my game,

A SONG TO A FAIR YOUNG LADY, GOING OUT OP THE TOWY IN

THE SPRING.

IX.

RONDELAY.

Ask not the cause, why sullen Spring

So long delays her flowers to bear;
Thy warbling birds forget to sing,

And winter storms invert the year:
Chloris is gone, and Fate provides
To make it Spring, where she resides.
Chloris is gone, the cruel fair ;

She cast not back a pitying eye:
But left her lover in despair,

To sigh, to languish, and to die :
Ah, how can those fair eyes endure
To give the wounds they will not cure !
Great god of love, why hast thou made

A face that can all hearts command,
That all religions can invade,

And change the laws of every land ? Where thou hadst plac'd such power before, Thou shouldst have made her mercy more. When Chloris to the temple comes,

Adoring crowds before her fall;
She can restore the dead from tombs,

And every life but mine recal.
I only am by Love design'd
To be the victim for mankind.

Chloe found Amyntas lying,

All in tears upon the plain ; Sighing to himself, and crying,

Wretched I, to love in vain! Kiss me, dear, before my dying ;

Kiss me once, and ease my pain ! Sighing to himself, and crying,

Wretched I, to love in vain ! Ever scorning and denying

To reward your faithful swain : Kiss me, dear, before my dying ;

Kiss me once, and ease my pain ! Ever scorning, and denying

To reward your faithful swain. Chloe, laughing at his crying,

Told him, that he lov'd in vain : Kiss me, dear, before my dying ;

Kiss me once, and ease my pain ! Chloe, laughing at his crying,

Told him, that he lov'd in vain : But, repenting, and complying,

When he kiss'd, she kiss'd again : Kiss'd him up before his dying;

Kiss'd him up, and eas'd his pain.

XII.

SONG, FROM MARRIAGE A-LA-MODE'.

X.

Why should a foolish marriage vow,

Which long ago was made,
Oblige us to each other now,

When passion is decay'd ?
We lov'd, and we lov'd, as long as we could,

Till our love was lov'd out of us both;
But our marriage is dead, when the pleasures are fled;
'Twas pleasure first made it an oath.
If I have pleasures for a friend,

And further love in store,
What wrong has be, whose joys did end,

And who could give no more? " There are several excellent songs in his King Arthur, which should have been copied, but that they are so interwoven with the story of the drama that it would be improper to separate them. There is also a song in Love in a Nunnery; and another in The Duke of Guise; but neither of them worth transcribing,

N.

A SONG.

Go tell Amynta, gentle swain,
I would not die, nor dare complain :
Thy tuneful voice with numbers join,
Thy words will more prevail than mine.
To souls oppress'd, and dumb with grief,
The gods ordain this kind relief;
That music should in sounds convey,
What dying lovers dare not say.

VOL. VIII.

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CHORUS

'Tis a madness that he

Timotheus, plac'd on high
Should be jealous of me,

Amid the tuneful quire,
Or that I should bar him of another :

With flying fingers touch'd the lyre:
For all we can gain

The trembling notes ascend the sky,
Is to give ourselves pain,

And heavenly joys inspire.
When neither can hinder the other.

The song began from Jove,
Who left his blissful seats above,

(Such is the power of mighty love.)
XIII.

A dragon's fiery form bely'd the god :

Sublime on radiant spires he rode,
SONG,

When he to fair Olympia press'd:

And while he sought her snowy breast:
FROM TYRANNIC LOVE.

Then, round her slender waist he curl'd, (world. Ah, how sweet it is to love!

And stamp'd an image of himself, a sovereign of the Ah, how gay is young Desire!

The listening crowd admire the lofty sound, And what pleasing pains we prove

A present deity, they shout around: When we first approach Love's fire!

A present deity the vaulted roofs rebound: Pains of love be sweeter far

With ravish'd ears Than all other pleasures are.

The monarch hears,

Assumes the god, Sighs which are from lovers blown

Affects to nod,
Do but gently heave the heart:

And seems to shake the spheres.
E'en the tears they shed alone
Cure, like trickling balm, their smart.

With ravish'd ears
Lovers, when they lose their breath,

The monarch hears, Bleed away in easy death.

Assumes the god,

Affects to nod,
Love and Time with reverence use,

And seems to shake the spheres.
Treat them like a parting friend:
Nor the golden gifts refuse

The praise of Bacchus then, the sweet musician sung: Which in youth sincere they send :

of Bacchus ever fair and ever young: For each year their price is more,

The jolly god in triumph comes; And they less simple than before.

Sound the trumpets; beat the drums;

Flush'd with a purple grace
Love, like spring-tides full and high,

He shows his honest face:
Swells in every youthful vein :
But each tide does less supply,

Now give the hautboys breath; he comes, he comes. Till they quite shrink in again:

Bacchus, ever fair and young, If a Xow in age appear,

Drinking joys did first ordain ; 'Tis but rain, and runs not clear.

Bacchus' blessings are a treasure,
Drinking is the soldier's pleasure:

Rich the treasure,

Sweet the pleasure;
XIV.

Sweet is pleasure after pain.
ALEXANDER'S FEAST:
OR, THE POWER OF MUSIC.

Bacchus' blessings are a treasure,

Drinking is the soldier's pleasure;
AN ODE IN HONOUR OF ST. CECILIA'S DAY.

Rich the treasure,

Sweet the pleasure;
'Twas at the royal feast for Persia won
By Philip's warlike son :

Sweet is pleasure after pain.
Aloft in awful state
The godlike hero sate

Sooth'd with the sound, the king grew vain ;
On his imperial throne:

Fought all his battles o'er again; His valiant peers were plac'd around;

And thrice he routed all his foes; and thrice he slew Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound :

The master saw the madness rise ; (So should desert in arms be crown'd)

His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes; The lovely Thais, by his side,

And, while he Heaven and Earth defy'd, Sate, like a blooming eastern bride,

Chang'd his hand, and check'd his pride. In flower of youth and beauty's pride.

He chose a mournful Muse Happy, happy, happy pair !

Soft pity to infuse: None but the brave,

He sung Darius great and good, None but the brave,

By too severe a fate,

Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen, None but the brave deserves the fair.

Fallen from his high estate,

And weltring in his blood;

Deserted, at his utmost need, Happy, happy, happy pair !

By those his former bounty fed : None but the brave,

On the bare earth expos'd be lies, None but the brave,

With not a friend to close bis eyes. None but the brave deserves the fair.

With downcast looks the joyless victor sale,

CHORUS.

(the slain.

CHORUS.

Revolving in his alter'd soul

And the king seiz'd a flambeau with zeal to destroy ; The various turns of Chance below;

Thais led the way, And, now and then, a sigh he stole;

To light bim to his prey, And tears began to flow.

And, like another Helen, fir'd another Troy.

CHORUS

CHORUS.

Revolving in his alter'd soul

The various turns of Chance below; And, now and then, a sigh he stole;

And tears began to flow.

And the king seiz'd a flambeau with zeal to destroy;

Thais led the way,

To light him to his prey,
And, like another Helen, fir'd another Troy.

The mighty master smild, to see
That love was in the next degree:
'Twas but a kindred sound to move,
For pity melts the mind to love.

Softly sweet, in Lydian measures,

Soon he sooth'd his soul to pleasures.
War, he sung, is toil and trouble;
Honour but an empty bubble;

Never ending, still beginning,
Fighting still, and still destroying;

If the world be worth thy winning,
Think, O think, it worth enjoying :

Lovely Thais sits beside thee,

Take the good the gods provide thee. The many rend the skies with loud applause; So Love was crown'd, but Music won the cause. The prince, unable to conceal his pain,

Gaz'd on the fair

Who caus'd his care,
And sigh'd and look'd, sigh'd and look'd,

Sigh'd and look’d, and sigh'd again:
At length, with love and wine at once oppressid,
The vanquish'd victor sunk upon her breast.

Thus, long ago,
Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow,

While organs yet were mute;
Timotheus, to his breathing flute,

And sounding lyre,
Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire.

At last divine Cecilia came,

Inventress of the vocal frame;
The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store,

Enlarg'd the former narrow bounds,

And added length to solemn sounds,
With Nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before.
Let old Timotheus yield the prize,

Or both divide the crown;
He rais'd a mortal to the skies;

She drew an angel down.

GRAND CHORUS.

At last divine Cecilia came,

Inventress of the vocal frame;
The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store,

Enlarg'd the former narrow bounds,

And added length to solemn sounds, With Nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before. Let old Timotheus yield the prize,

Or both divide the crown ; He rais'd a mortal to the skies;

She drew an angel down.

CHORUS.

The prince, unable to conceal his pain,

Gaz'd on the fair

Who caus'd his care,
And sigh'd and look’d, sigh'd and look'd,

Sigh'd and look'd, and sigh'd again:
At length, with love and wine at once oppress'd,
The vanquish'd victor sunk upon her breast.

XIII.

THE SECULAR MASQUE.

Now strike the golden lyre again :
A louder yet, and yet a louder strain.
Break his bands of sleep asunder,
And rouse him, like a rattling peal of thunder.

Hark, hark, the horrid sound

Has rais'd up his head !

As awak'd from the dead,

And amaz'd, he stares around.
Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries,

See the Furies arise:
See the snakes that they rear,

How they hiss in their hair,
And the sparkles that Nash from their eyes'

Behold a ghastly band,

Each a torch in his band ! Those are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were slain,

And unbury'd remain

Inglorious on the plain:
Give the vengeance due

To the valiant crew.
Behold how they toss their torches on high,

How they point to the Persian abodes,
And glittering temples of their hostile gods.
The princes applaud, with a furious joy ;

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. Curonos. 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 human-kind.

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,

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the cry.

And since neither Janus, nor Chronos, nor I,

The fools are only thinner,
Can binder the crimes,

With all our cost and care;
Or mend the bad times,

But neither side a winner,
'Tis better to laugh than to cry.

For things are as they were. Cho. of all three. 'Tis better to laugh than to cry.

Cho. of all. The fools are only, &c.
JANUS. Since Momus comes to laugh below,

Enter VENUS.
Old Time begin the show,

VENUS.

Calms appear, when storms are past;
That he may see, in every scene,

Love will bave his hour at last:
What changes in this age have been.

Nature is my kindly care ;
Chronos. Then, goddess of the silver bow, begin.

Mars destroys, and I repair : [Horns, or hunting music, within.]

Take me, take me, while you may,

Venus comes not every day.
Enter Diana.

Cho. of all. Take her, take ber, &c.
Diana. With horns and with hounds, I waken the
day;

Curonos. The world was then so light,
And hie to the woodland-walks away;

I scarcely felt the weight;
I tuck up my robe, and am buskin'd soon,

Joy rul'd the day, and Love the night.
And tie to my forehead a wexing Moon.

But, since the queen of pleasure left the
I course the fleet stag, unkennel the fox,

I faint, I lag,

[ground, And chase the wild goats o'er the summits

And feebly drag of rocks,

The pondrous orb around.
With shouting and hooting we pierce MomUS. All, all of a piece throughout;
through the sky,

Point-
And Echo turns hunter, and doubles the ing to Thy chase had a beast in view;

Diana.

[To Mars.]Thy wars brought nothing about; Cho. of all. With shouting and hooting we pierce (To Ven.) Thy lovers were all untrue. through the sky,

JANUS. 'Tis well an old age is out,
And Echo turns hunter, and doubles Chronos. And time to begin a new.

Cho. of all. All, all of a piece throughout;
JANUS. The our age was in 'ts prime,

Thy chase bad a beast in view:
CHRONOS. Free from rage:

Thy wars brought nothing about;
DIANA.
And free from crime.

Thy lovers were all untrue.
Momus. A very merry, dancing, drinking,

'Tis well an old age is out, Laughing, quaffing, and unthinking time.

And time to begin a new.
Cho. of all. Then our age was in 'ts prime,

[Dance of huntsmen, nymphs, warriors, and lowers.)
Free from rage, and free from crime,
A very merry, dancing, drinking,
Laughing, quaffing, and unthinking time.

XV.
[Dance of Diana's attendants.]
Enter Mars.

SONG OF A SCHOLAR AND HIS MISTRESS,
MARS. Inspire the vocal brass, inspire;

WHO BEING CROSSED BY THEIR FRIENDS, FELL MAD FOR
The world is past its infant age:

ONE ANOTHER; AND NOW FIRST MEET IN BEDLAM.
Arms and honour,

[Music within.]
Arms and honour,
Set the martial mind on fire,

The lovers enter at opposite doars, each held by e
And kindle manly rage.

keeper.
Mars has look’d the sky to red;

Phyllis. Loor, look, I see—I see my love appear! And Peace, the lazy good, is fled.

'Tis he-'Tis he alone;
Plenty, Peace, and Pleasure, fly;

For, like him, there is none:
The sprightly green,

"Tis the dear, dear man, 'tis thee, dear.
In woodland-walks, no more is seen; AMYNTAS. Hark, the winds war;
The sprightly green has drunk the Tyrian

The foamy waves roar ;
dye.

I see a sbip afar: Cho. of all. Plenty, Peace, &c.

Tossing and tossing, and making to the

But what 's that I view, [sbore: Mars. Sound the trumpet, beat the drum;

So radiant of hue,
Through all the world around,

St. Hermo, St. Hermo, that sits upon the
Sound a reveilie, sound, sound,

Ah! No, no, no.

(sails? The warrior god is come.

St. Hermo, never, nerer shone so bright; Cho. of all. Sound the trumpet, &c.

"Tis Phyllis, only Phyllis, can shoot so

fair a light : Momus. Thy sword within the scabbard keep,

'Tis Phyllis, 'tis Phyllis, that saves the And let mankind agree;

ship alone,
Better the world were fast asleep,

For all the winds are hush'd, and the storn
Than kept awake by thee.

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his part.

Phyllis. Let me go, let me run, let me fly to his
AMYNTAS. If all the fates combine,

[arms.

II.
And all the furies join,
I'll force my way to Phyllis, and break

PROLOGUE
through the charm.

SPOKEN AT THE OPENING OF THE NEW HOUSE, [Here they break from their keepers, run

MARCH 26, 1074.
to each other, and embrace.) A PLAIN-BUILT house, after so long a stay,
Phyllis. Shall I marry the man I love?

Will send you half unsatisfy'd away;
And shall I conclude my pains ?

When, fall’n from your expected pomp, you find
Now bless'd be the powers above,

A bare convenience only is design’d.
I feel the blood bound in my veins;

You, who each day can theatres behold,
With a lively leap it began to move,

Like Nero's palace, shining all with gold,
And the vapours leave my brains.

Our mean ungilded stage will scorn, we fear, Amyntas. Body join'd to body, and heart join'd to And, for the homely room, disdain the cheer. To make sure of the cure, [heart,

Yet now cheap druggets to a mode are grown, Go call the man in black, to mumble o'er And a plain suit, since we can make but one,

Is better than to be by tarnish'd gawdry known. Phyllis. But suppose he should stay

They, who are by your favours wealthy made, AMYNTAS. At worst if he delay,

With mighty sums may carry on the trade:
"Tis a work must be done,'

We, broken bankers, half destroy'd by fire,
We 'll borrow but a day,

With our small stock to humble roofs retire;
And the better, the sooner begun.

Pity our loss, while you their pomp admire.

For fame and honour we no longer strive, Cho. of both. At worst if he delay, &c.

We yield in both, and only beg to live :

Unable to support their vast expense,
[They run out together hand in hand.]

Who build and treat with such magnificence;
That, like th' ambitious monarchs of the age,
They give the law to our provincial stage.

Great neighbours enviously promote excess,
PROLOGUES AND EPILOGUES.

While they impose their splendour on the less.
But only fools, and they of vast estate,
Th’ extremity of modes will imitate,

The dangling knee-fringe, and the bib-cravat.
I.

Yet if some pride with want may be allow'd,

We in our plainness may be justly proud :
PROLOGUE,

Our royal master will'd it should be so;
SPOKEN THE FIRST DAY OF THE KING'S HOUSE ACTING

Whate'er he's pleas'd to own, can need no show:
That sacred name gives ornament and grace,

And, like his stamp, makes basest metals pass. So shipwreck'd passengers escape to land,

'Twere folly now a stately pile to raise, So look they, when on the bare beach they stand To build a playhouse while you throw down plays;

While Dropping and cold, and their first fear scarce o'er, scenes, machines, and empty operas reign, Expecting famine on a desert shore.

And for the pencil you the pen disdain : From that hard climate we must wait for bread, While troops of famish'd Frenchmen hither drive, Whence ev'n the natives, forc'd by hunger, fled. And laugh at those upon whose alms they live: Our stage does human chance present to view,

Old English authors vanish, and give place But ne'er before was seen so sadly true:

To these new conquerors of the Norman race. You are chang'd too, and your pretence to see

More tamely than your fathers you submit; Is but a nobler name for charity.

You 're now grown vassals to them in your wit. Your own provisions furnish out our feasts,

Mark, when they play, how our fine fops advance, While you the founders make yourselves the guests. The mighty merits of their men of France, Of all mankind beside, Fate had some care,

Keep time, cry Bon, and humour the cadence. But for poor Wit no portion did prepare,

Well, please yourselves; but sure 'tis understood, "Tis left a rent-charge to the brave and fair. That French machines have ne'er done England good. You cherish'd it, and now its fall you mourn, I would not prophesy our house's fate: Which blind unmanner'd zealots make their scorn,

But while vain shows and scenes you overrate, Who think that fire a judgment on the stage,

'Tis to be fear'dWhich spar'd not temples in its furious rage.

That as a fire the former house o’erthrew, But as our new-built city rises higher,

Machines and tempests will destroy the new.
So from old theatres may new aspire,
Since Fate contrives magnificence by fire.
Our great metropolis does far surpass

III. ·
Whate'er is now, and equals all that was:
Our wit as far does foreign wit excel,
And, like a king, should in a palace dwell.
But we with golden hopes are vainly fed,
Talk high, and entertain you in a shed :

THOUGH what our prologue said was sadly true,
Your presence here, for which we humbly sue, Yet, gentlemen, our bomely house is new,
Will grace old theatres, and build up new. A charm that seldom fails with-wicked you.

AFTER THE FIRE.

EPILOGUE

ON THE SAME OCCASION.

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