The sun's-darling a moral masque : as it hath been often presented at Whitehall by Their Majesties servants, and after at the Cock-pit in Drury Lane, with great applause / written by John Foard and Tho. Decker, Gent.

Actus Secundus.

Enter Spring, Raybright, Youth, Health and Delight.

Spr.

WElcom the mother of the year, the Spring; That mother on whose back age ne're can sit. For age still waits upon her that Spring the Nurse; Whose milk the Summer sucks, and is made wanton.

Physitian to the sick, strength to the sound; By whom all things above, and under-round Are quickned with new heat, fresh blood, brave vigor, That Spring on thy fair cheeks, in kisses laies Ten thonsand welcoms, free as are those raies From vvich thy name thou borrowest: glorious name! Raybright, as bright in person as in 〈◊〉〈◊〉

Ray.

Your eies amaz'd mee first, but ••ow mine ears Feel your tongues charms, in you move all the sphears. Ch Ladie! would the Sun, which gave mee life, Had never sent me to you.

Spr.

Why! all my veins Shrink up, as if cold Winter were com back, And with his frozen beard have numm'd my lips To hear that sigh fly from you.

Ray.

R••und about mee A firmament of such full blessings shine, I in your sphear seem a star more divine Than in my Fathers Chariot; should I ride One year about the world in all his pride.

Sp.

Oh that sweet breath revives mee! if thou never Part'st hence (as part thou shalt not) bee happie ever.

Ray.

I know I shall.

Spr.

Thou to buy, whose state? Kings would lay down their crowns, fresh Youth wait, I charge thee, on my darling.

Tou.

Madam I shall, And on his smoeth check such sweet roses set, You still shall sit to gather then, and when Their colours fade, brave shall spring agen.

Spr.

Thou (without whom they that have hills of gold Are slaves and wretches) Health that canst nor be sold Nor bought, I charge thee make his heart a tower Guarded, for there lies the Springs paramour.

Hea.

One of my hands is writing still in heaven, (For that's Healths librarie) t'other on the earth Is Physicks treasurer, and what wealth those lay Up for my queen, all shall his will obay▪

Ray.

Mortalitie sure falls from me▪

Spr.

Thou! to whose tunes The five nice Sences dance; thou that dost spin Those golden threds all women love to winde, And but for whom, man would cut off mankinde. Delight not base, but noble, touch thy Lire, And fill my Court with brightest Delphick fire.

Del.

Hover, you wing'd Musicians, in the air; Clouds leav your dancing, no windes stir but fair.

Hea.

Leav blustring March—

SONG.

What bird so sings, yet so does wail, 'Tis Philomel the Nightingale; Iugg, Iugg, Iugg, Terue she cries, And hating earth, to heaven she flies—Cuckow. Ha, ha, hark, hark, the Cuckows sing Cuckow, to welcom in the Spring. Brave prick-song; who is't now we hear! 'Tis the Larks silver leer a leer: Chirup the Sparrow flies away; For hee fell too't ere break of day. Ha, ha, hark, hark, the Cuck••ows sing Cuckow, to welcom in the Spring.

Spr.

How does my sun-born sweet-heart like his queen; Her court, her train.

Ray.

Wondrous, such ne're were seen.

Hea.

Fresher and fresher pastimes, one delight Is a di••ease to th'wanton appetite.

Del.

Musick take Ecchoes voice, and dance quick rounds To thine own times in ••epercussive sounds.

Exit.

Eccho of Cornets.

Spr.

Enough? I will not weary thee, pleasures change▪ Thou, as the Sun in a free zodiack range.—

Enter Delight.

Del.

A company of rural fellows, fac'd Like l••vers of your Laws, beg to bee grac'd Before your Highness, to present their sport▪

Spr.

What is't?

Del.

A Morris.

Spr.

Give them our Court:

Stay, these dull birds may make thee stop thine ear, Take thou my lightning, none but Laurel here Shall scape thy blasting; whom thou wilt confound Smite; let those stand, who in thy choice ••it crown'd.

Ray.

Let these then, I may surfet else on sweets. Sound sleeps do not still lie in Princes sheets.

Spr.

Becken the Rurals in, the Country-gray Seldom ploughs treason, shouldst thou be stoln away. By great ones, that's my fear.

Ray.

Fear it not Lady; Should all the worlds black sorceries bee laid To blow mee hence, I move not.

Spr.

I am made

Morris

In that word the earths Empress— Are not these sports too rustick?

Ray.

No; pretty and pleasing.

Spr.

My youngest girl••, the violet-breathing May, Being told by Flora that my love dwelt here, Is com to do you service, will you please To honor her arrival.

Ray.

I shall attend.

Spr.

On them, and bid my rosie-finger'd May Rob hills and dales, with sweets to strow his way.

Morris Exit.

Ray.

An Empre••s, saist thou, faln in love with me.

Fol.

Shee's a great woman, and all great women wish to be Empresses; her name, the Ladie Humor.

Ray.

Strange name, I never saw her, knew her not: What kinde of creature is shee?

Fol.

Creature! of a skin soft as Pomatum, sleek as Jellie, white as blanch'd Almonds; no Mercers wife ever handled yard with a prettier breath; sweet as a Monkies; lips of cherries, teeth of pearle, eies of diamond, foot and leg as—

Ray.

And what's thy name?

Fol.

'Tis but a folly to tell it, my name is Folly.

Ray.

Fumorand Folly; to my listning ear Thy Ladies praises often have been sung, The trumpet sounding forth her graceful beauties. Kindles high flames within me to behold her.

Fol.

Shee's as hot as you for your heart.

Ray.

This Ladie, call'd the Spring, is an odd trifle.

Fol.

A green sickness thing, I came by the way of a hobby∣horse letter of Attorney, sent by my Ladie as a spie to you: Spring a hot Ladie, a few fields and gardens lass, can you feed upon sallets and tanzies, eat like an Asse upon grasse every day at my Ladies, coms to you now a Goose, now a Woodcock, no∣thing but fowl; fowl pies, platters all cover'd with foul, and is not fowl yery good fare?

Ray.

Yea marry is't sir, the fowl being kept clean. My admiration wastes it self in longings To see this rare piece, I'le see her; what are Kings, were not their Pleasures varied; shall not mine then? should day Last ever, 'twould bee loath'd as night. Change is the sawce that sharpens appetite; The way, I'le to her.

Fol.

The way is windie and narrow; for look you, I do but winde this Cornet, and if another answer it, she coms.

Ray.

Be quick then—

Cornets.

Enter Humor, a Souldier, a Spaniard, an Italian Dance, a French Tailor.

Hum.

Is this that slower the Spring so dotes upon?

Fol.

This is that hony-suckle, she sticks in her ruffe.

Hum.

A bedfellow for a Fairie.

Ray.

Admir'd perfection! You let my praises to so high a tune, My merits cannot reach em.

Hum.

My heart-strings shall then, As mine eie gives that sentence on thy person; And never was mine eie a corrupt Judg, That Judg to save thee would condemn a world, And lose mankinde to gain thee; 'tis not the Spring▪ With all her gawdy arbors, nor perfumes Sent up in flattering incense to the Sun, For shooting glames at her, and for sending Whole quires of singers to her every morn, With all her amorous fires, can heat thy bl••od as I can with one kisse.

Ray.

The rose-lipp'd dawning Is not so melting, so delicious.

Turn mee into a bird that I may sit Still singing in such boughs.

Fol.

What bird?

Sol.

A Ring-tayl.

Hu.

Thou shalt be turn'd to nothing but to mine, My Mine of pleasures which no hand shall rifle But this, which in warm Nectar bathes the palm: Invent som other tyres; musick; stay; none

Fol.

Hoy-day.

Hu.

New gowns, fresh fashions, I am not brave enough To make thee wonder at me.

Ray.

Not the Moon Riding at midnight in her cristal Chariot, With all her Courtiers in their robes of stars Is half so glorious.

Hu.

This feather was a bird of Paradice, Shall it bee yours.

Ray.

No Kingdom buies it from mee.

Fol.

Being in fools paradice he must not lose his bawble.

Ray.

I am wrapt.

Fol.

In your mothers smock.

Ra.

I am wrapt above mans being, in being spher'd In such a globe of ••arities, but say Ladie What these are that attend you.

Hu.

All my attendants Shall be to the sworn servants.

Fol.

Follie is sworn to him already, never to leav him.

Ray.

Hee.

Fol.

A French Gentleman that trayls a Spanish pike. A Tailor.

Tay.

Wee Mounsieur, hey nimbla upon de crosse caper, me take a de measure of de body from de top a de noddle to de heel and great toe, oh stish de fine: dis coller is cut out in anger scur∣vie, ohais beeshes pincha de bum, me put one French yard into de toder••ose.

Fol.

N. French yards, they want a yard at least.

Ray.

Shall I bee brave then?

Hu.

Golden as the sun.

R••.

What's hee that looks so smickly?

Fol.

A Flounder in a frying-pan, still skipping, one that loves

mutton so well, he alwaies carries capers about him; his brains lie in his legs, and his legs serve him to no other use then to do tricks, as if he had bought em of a Jugler, hee's an Italian dan∣cer, his name—

Dan.

Signior Lavolta (Messer mio) me tesha all de bella Co∣rantoes, galliardaes, piamettaes, capeorettaes, amorettaes dolche dolche to declamante do bona robaes de Tu••cana.

Ray.

I ne're shall be so nimble.

Fol.

Yes, if you powr quick-silver into your shin-bones, as he does.

Ray.

This now?

Fol.

A most sweet Spaniard.

Spa.

A Confecianador, which in your tongue is, a Comfit∣maker of Toledo, I can teach sugar to slip down your throat a million of waies.

Fol.

And the throat has but one in all, oh Toledo!

Spa.

In Conservs, candies, marmalades, sinkadoes, ponadoes, marablane, Bergamo••u, aranxues muria, lymons, berengenas of Toledo, oriones, potataes of Malag••, and ten millions more.

Fol.

Now 'tis ten millions, a Spaniard can multiply.

Spa.

I am your servidor.

Rey.

My pallate pleas'd to what's this last?

Sol.

I am a Gun that can rore, two stelettoes in one sheath, I can fight and bounce too, my Ladie by mee, pre••ents this sword and belt to you

R••y.

〈◊〉〈◊〉 Mistresse.

Hu.

Put 〈◊〉〈◊〉 on.

Sol.

••le dri•••• you how to give the lie, and stab in the punto, if you dare not ••ight, then how to vamp a rotten quarrel with∣out ado.

Ray▪

How: dare not fight! there's in me the Suns fire.

Hu.

No more of this, dances awake the musick▪ Oyes! Musick!

Ray.

No more of this, this sword arms me for battel.

Hu.

Com then, let th••u and I rise up in arms, The field embraces, kisses our alarms.

Fol.

A dancer and a ••ailor, yet stand still: strike up-Dance.

Enter Spring, Health, Youth, Deligh••••

Spr.

Oh! thou inticing strumpet, how durst thou

Throw thy voluptuous spells about a Temple That's consecrate to me.

Hu.

Poor Spring, goodie herb-wife; How dar'st thou cast a glance on this rich jewel I ha bought for mine own wearing.

Spr.

Bought! art thou sold then?

Ray.

Yes, with her gifts, she buyes me with her graces.

Heal.

Graces! A Witch.

Spr.

What can she give thee.

Ray.

All things.

Spr.

Which I for one bubble cannot add a sea too.

Fol.

And shew him a hobbie-horse in my likeness.

Spr.

My Raybright, hear me; I regard not these.

Ray.

What dowrie can you bring me?

Spr.

Dowrie! ha! is't com to this? am I held poor and base? A girdle make, whose buckles stretch'd toth' length Shall reach from th'artick to th'antartick pole: What ground soever thou canst with that inclose I'le give thee freely, not a Lark that calls The morning up, shall build on any turf But shee shall be thy tenant, call thee Lord, And for her rent pay thee in change of songs.

Ray.

I must turn bird-catcher.

Fol.

Do you think to have him for a song?

Hu.

Live with mee still; and all the measures Plaid to by the spheres, I'le teach thee; Let's but thus dallie, all the pleasures The Moon beholds, her man shall reach thee.

Ray.

Divinest!

Fol.

Here's a Lady.

Spr.

Is't come to who gives most? The self same Bay tree into which was turnd: Peneian Daphne, I have still kept green; That tree shall now be thine, about it sit: All the old poets with fresh Lawrel Crownd, Singing in verse the praise of chastity; Hither when thou shalt come, they all shall rise, Sweet Cantoes of thy love, and mine to sing:

And invoke none but thee as Delian King.

Ray.

Live by singing ballets?

Fol,

Oh! base, turn poet, I would not be one my self.

Hu.

Dwell in mine armes, aloft wee'l hover, And see fields of armies fighting: Oh! part not from mee, I will discover There, all but books of fances writing;

Del.

Not far off stands the Hipocrenian well, Whither i'le leade thee, and but drinking there, To welcome thee, nine Muses shall appear: And with full bowles of knowledge thee inspire.

Ray.

Hang knowledge, drowne your muse.

Fol.

I, ••, or they'l drown themseves in Sack & Claret

Hu.

Do not regard their toyes, Be but my darling, age to free thee From her curse, shall fall a dying; Call me their Empresse; time to see thee Shall for get his art of flying.

Ray.

Oh! my all excellence.

Sp.

Speake thou for me; I am fainting.

Heal.

Leave her, take this and travel, tell the world I'le bring thee in to all the Courts of Kings; Where thou shalt stay, and learn their languages; Kisse Ladies, revell out the nights in dancing: The day, manly pastimes; snatch from time His glas••e, and let the golden sands run forth As thou shalt jogg them, riot it, go brave; Spend halfe a world, my Queen shall beare thee out: Yet all this while, tho thou climb hills of yeares, Shall not one wrinckle sit upon thy brow, Nor any sicknesse shake thee; Youth and Health, As slaves, shall lackie by thy Chariot wheeles; And who, for two such jeweller, would not sell The East, and West Indies; both are thine, so that—

Ray.

What?

Fol.

All lies gallap o're the world, and not grow old, nor be sick; a lie; one gallant went but into France last day, & was never his own man since, another stept but into the low Countries, and

was drunk dead under the table, another did but peep into Eng∣land, and it cost him more in good morrows blowne up to him under his window, by Drums and Trumpets, then his whole voi∣age, besides he run mad upon't.

Hu.

Here's my last farewel, ride a long with me; I'le raise by art, out of b••se earth, a pallace; Whither thy selfe, waving a Christal stream, Shall call together the most glorious spirits Of all the Kings that have been in the world; And they shall come onely to feast with thee.

Ray.

Rare!

Hu.

At one end of this pallace shalbe heard That Musique which gives motion to the Heaven; And in the midle Orpheus shall sit and weep, For sorrow that his Lu••e had not the charmes To bring his faire Euredice from hell; Then at an other end—

Ray.

I'••e hear no more; This ends your strife, you onely I adore.

Sp.

Oh! I am sick at heart; un••hankfull man '••is thou hast wounded mee, farewel, she is led in.

Ray.

Farewell?

Fol.

Health, recover her; sirrah Youth, look to her.

Hea.

That bird that in her nest sleeps out the spring May fly in Summer, but with sickly wing.

Exit.

Ray.

I owe thee for this pill, Doctor.

Hu.

The Spring will Dye sure.

Ray.

Lether?

Hu.

If she does, Folly here is a kind of a foolish poet, And he shall write her Epitaph.

Ray.

Against the morning See it then writ, and I'le reward thee for it.

Fol.

It shall not need.

Ray.

'Tis like it shall not need, this is your Folly,

Hu.

He shall be ever yours.

Fol.

I hope ever to be mine own folly, Hee's one of our fellows.

Hu.

In triumph now I lead thee; no, be thou Cesar, And lead me.

R••y.

Neither; wee'l ride with equall state Both in one Chariot, since we have equall fate▪

Hu.

Each do his office to this man your Lord; For tho Delight, and Youth, and Health should leave him, This Ivory gated pallace shall receive him.

Exit.