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 Tertius.,

Enter Raybright Melancholy.

Ray.

OH my deer love the Spring, I am cheated of thee; Thou hadst a body the four elements Dwelt never in a fairer; a minde princely? Thy language like thy fingers, Musical. How coole wert thou in anger, in thy dyet How temperate, and yet sumptuous; thou wouldst not waste The waight of a sad violet in excesse; yet still thy board had dishesnumberlesse. Dumbe beasts even lov'd thee; once a young Lark Sate on thy hand, and gazing on thine eyes Mounted and sung, thinking them moving skies—

Enter Follie.

Fol.

I ha don my Lord: my Muse has pump'd hard for an Epitaph upon the late departed Spring, and here her lines spring up.

Ray.

Read.

Fol.

Read; so I will, pleas you to reach mee your high ears.

Here lie's the blith Spring, Who first tanght birds to sing; Yet in April herself fell a crying: Then May growing hot A sweating sickness shee got, And the first of Iune lay a dying. Yet no month can say But her merry daughter May Stuck her Coffin with flowers great plenty. The Cuckow sung in verse An Epitaph o're her herse, But assure you the lines were not dainty.

Ray.

No more are thine, thou Ideot; hast thou none To poison with thy nasti••••iggs but mine, My matchless frame of nature, Creations wonder, Out of my sight.

Fol.

I am not in't, if I were, you'd see but s••urvily; you finde fault as Patron•• do with books, to give nothing.

Ray.

Yes ball'd one, beastly base one, blockish away; Vex me not fool, turn out a doors your rorer, French Tailor, and that Spanish ginger-bread, And your Italian skipper; then sir, your self.

Fol.

My self! Carbonado me, bastinado me, strapado me, hang me, I'le not stir; poor Follie, honest Follie, jocundary Fol∣lie forsake your Lordship; no true Gentleman hates me, and how many women are given daily to me (if I would take em) some not far off know; Tailor gon, Spanish figg gon, all gou but I—

Enter Humor.

Hu.

My waiters coited off by you, you flea them; Whence com these thunder-bolts, what furieshaunt you?

Ray.

You.

Fol.

Shee!

Ray.

Yes, and thou.

Fol.

Baw waw.

Ray.

I shall grow old, diseas'd, and melancholy; For you have robb'd me both of Youth and Health, And that delight my Spring bestow'd upon me: But for you two, I should be wondrous good; By you I have been cozen'd, baffled, and torn From the embracements of the noblest creature.

Hu.

Your Spring.

Ray.

Yes she, even she, onely the Spring: One morning spent with her, was worth ten nights With ten of the prime beauties in the world: She was unhappie never, but in two sons, March a rude roring fool.

Fol.

And April a whining puppie.

Hu.

But May was a fine piece.

Ray.

Mirror of faces.

Fol.

Indeed May was a sweet creature, and yet a great raiser

of May-poles.

Hu.

When will you sing my praises thus?

Ray.

Thy praises, that art a common creature.

Hu.

Common!

Ray.

Yes, common: I cannot passe through any Princes Court, Through any Countrie, Camp, Town, Citie, Village, But up your name is cried, nay curs'd; a vengeance On this your debauch'd Humor.

Fol.

A Vintner spoke those very words last night, to a com∣pany of roring boies, that would not pay their reckoning.

Ray.

How many bastards hast thou?

Hu.

None.

Ray.

'Tis a lie, bee judg by this your squire else.

Fol.

Squire! worshipful M^r Follie.

Ray.

The Courtier has his Humor, has he not Follie?

Fol.

Yes marry has he, follie; the Courtier's humor is to bee brave, and not pay for't; to bee proud, and no man cares for't.

Ray.

Brave Ladies have their humors.

Fol.

Who has to do with that, but brave Lords.

Ray.

Your Citizens have brave humors.

Fol.

Oh! but their wives have tickling humor••.

Hu.

Yet don.

Fol.

Humor Madam, if all are your bastards that are given to humor you, you have a companie of as arrant rascals to your children, as ever went toth' gallows; a Collier being drunk jos∣sell'd a Knight into the kennel, and cry'd 'twas his humor; the Knight broke his coxcomb, and that was his humor.

Ray.

And yet you are not common.

Hu.

No matter what I am: Rail, curse, be frantick, get you to the tomb Of your rare Mistresse; dig up your dead Spring And lie with her, kisse her; me, have you lost▪

Fol.

And I scorn to be found.

Ray.

Stay: must I lose all comfort, dearest s••ay; There's such a deal of magick in those eies, I'm charm'd to kisse these onely.

Fol.

Are you so? kisse on, I'le be kiss'd som where I warrant.

Ray.

I will not leav my Follie for a world.

Fol

Nor I you for ten.

Ray.

Nor thee my love, for worlds pil'd upon worlds.

Hu.

If ever for the Spring you do but sigh, I take my bells.

Fol.

And I my hobby-ho••se,—Will you be merry than, and jawfand.

Ray.

As merry as the Cuckows of the spring,

Fol.

Again.

Ray.

How Ladie, lies the way?

Hu.

I'le be your convoy, And bring you to the Court of the Suns queen, (Summer a glorious and majestick creature) Her face out-shining the poor Springs, as far As a sun-beam doe's a lamp, the moon a star.

Ray.

Such are the spheres I'de move in, attend••: us Follie.

Ext.

Enter Raybright and Humor.

Ray▪

I muse, my nimble Follie staies so long.

Hu.

Hee's quick enough of foot, and counts, I swear) That minute cast away, not spent on you.

Ray.

His companie is musick, next to yours; Both of you are a Consort; and I, your tunes Lull me asleep, and when I most am sad, My sorrows vanish from me in soft dreams: But how far must we travel, is it our motion Puts us in this heat; or is the air In love with us, it clings with such embraces, It keeps us in this warmth,

Hu.

This shews, her Court Is not far off, you covet so to see: Her subjects seldom kindle needlesse fires, The Sun lends them his flames.

Ray.

Has she rare buildings.

Hu.

Magnificent and curious; every noon The horses of the day bait there, whilst he (Who ••n a golden Chariot makes them gallop In twe••ve h••urs o're the world) alights a while, To give a love-kisse to the Summer queen.

Ray.

And shall we have fine sights there?

Hn.

Oh!

Ray.

And hear more ravishing musick?

Bu.

All the quiristers That learn't to sing i'th Temple of the Spring; But her attain such cunning, that when the windes Rore and are mad, and clouds in antick gambols Dance o're our head, their voices have such charms, They'l all stand still to listen—

Ray.

Excellent.

Enter Follie.

Fol.

I sweat like a pamper'd jade of Asia, and drop like a Cob-nut out of Africa—

Enter a Forrester.

For.

Back: whither go you? Oyes! this way.

For.

None must passe: Here's kept no open Court; our Queen this day Rides forth a hunting, and the air being hot, She will not have rude throngs to stifle her—back

Ext.

Enter Summer and Delight.

Sum.

And did break her heart then▪

Del.

Yes with disdain.

Sum.

The heart of my deer mother nurse the Spring, I'le breake his heart for 't•• had she not a face, Too tempting for a Iove.

Del.

The graces sate, On her faire eye-lids ever, but his youth Lusting for change, so doted on a Lady, Phantastick, and yet fair; a peece of wonder: They call her Humor; and her parasite Folly, He cast the sweet Spring off, and ••urn'd us from him; Yet his celestial kinsman, for young Raybright Is the Snns darling: knowing his jorneying hither To see thy glorious Court, sends mee before To attend on you, and spend all my hours In care for him—

Enter Su••. Recorders.

Sum.

Obay your charge—oh thou builder, Of me thy hand maid! Landlord of my life, Life of my love, throne where my glories sit; I ride in trynmph on a silver clowd; Now I but see thee.

Sun.

Rise; is Raybright come yet.

Del.

Not yet.

Sun.

Be you indulgent over him, And lavish thou thy treasure—

Enter Plenty.

Plen.

Our princely Cosen Raybright, Your darling, and the worlds delight, is come.

Sun.

who with them.

Ple.

A goddesse in a woman, attended By a prating sawcie fellow, called Follie.

Sun.

They'l confound him, but he shall run, Go and receive him.

Sun.

Your sparkling eyes, and his arivall, drawes Heapes of admirers; earth it self will sweat To bear our weights; vouchsafe, bright power, to borrow Winds not too rough from Aeolus, to fan Our glowing faces

Sun.

I will: ho Aeolus; Unlock the jayle, and lend a winde or two, To fan my girle the Summer.

Aeo.

I will.

Sun.

No rorers.

Aeo.

No.

Hob••yes,

Sun.

Quickly.

The Sun takes his ••eat above.

Aeo.

Fly you slaves, Summer sweats; cool her.

Enter Summer, Raybright, Humor, Plenty, Folly, Country-••ellows and Wenches.

SONG.

Hay-makers, Rakers, Reapers and Mowers, Waite on your Summer-Queen, Dresse up with Musk-rose her Eglentine bowers, Daffadills strew the greene, Sing dance and play 'Tis Holy day. the Sun does bravely shine on our ears of corn. Rich as a pearle coms every girle, this is mine, this is mine, this is ••ine; Let us die, ere away they be born.

Bow to the Sun, to our Queen, and that fair one com to bebold our sparts, Each bonny lasse here is counted a rare one, as those in Princes Courts. these and wee with Countrie glee will teach the woods to resound, and the hills with eccho's hollow: skipping lambs their bleating dams 'mongst kids shall trip it round, for joy thus our wenches we follow.

Winde, jollie Hunts-men, your neat Bugles shrilly, Hounds make a lustie crie: Spring up, you Faulconers, the Partridges freely, then let your brave H••••ks flie. Horses amain ever ridg, over plain, the Dogs have the Stag in chace; 'tis a sport to content a King. So ho ho, through the skies how the proud bird flies, and sowcing kills with a grace, Now the Deer falls, hark how they ring.—

Sum.

Leav off, the Sun is angry, & has drawn A clowd before his face▪

The Sun by degrees is clowded.

Hu.

He is vex'd to see That proud star shine near you, at whose rising The Spring fell sick and dy'd; think what I told you, His coynes will kill you else.

Sum.

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 Ladie!

Sum.

For him I love you, from whose glittering rai••s

You boast your great name, for that name I hate you, Because you kill'd my mother, and my nurse.

Plen.

Kill'd he my grandmother, Plenty will never Hold you byth' hand again.

Sum.

You have free leave To thrust your arm into our treasurie As deep as I my self: Plenty shall wait Still at your elbow, all my sports are yours, Attendants yours, my state and glorie's yours; But these shall be as sun-beams from a glasse Reflected on you, not to give you heat To dote on a smooth face, my spirit's too great,

Exit.

Ray.

Divinest!

Florish

Hu.

Let her go.

Fol.

And I'le go after, for I must and will have a fling at one of her plum-trees.

Ray.

I ne're was scorn'd till now.

Hu.

This is that Alteza, That Rhodian wonder, gaz'd at by the Sun: I fear'd thine eies should have beheld a face, The Moon has not a clearer, this! a dowdie,

Fol.

An Ouzle, this a queen-apple; or a crab she gave you.

Hu.

She bid's you share her treasure, but who keeps it.

Fol.

She point's to trees great with childe with fruit, but when delivered grapes hang in ropes, but no drawing, not a drop of wine: whole ears of corn lay their ears together for bread, but the divel a bit I can touch.

Hu.

Be rul'd by me once more, leave her.

Ray.

In scorn, as he doe's me.

Fol.

Scorn! If I be not deceived, I ha seen Summer go up and down with hot Codlings; and that little baggage, her daughter Plenty, crying six bunches of Raddish for a peny.

Hu.

Thou shalt have nobler welcoms, for I'le bring thee To a brave and bounteous house-keeper, free Autumne.

Fol.

Oh! there's a lad—let's go then.

Plen.

Where's this Prince, my mother; for the Indies Must not have you part—

Ra.

Must not?

Sum.

No; must not. I did but chide thee like a whistling winde Playing with leavie dancers: when I told thee I hated thee, I lied; I doat upon thee. Unlock my garden of th'Helperides, By draggons kept (the Apples beeing pure gold) Take all that fruit, 'tis thin••.

Plen.

Love but my mother, I'le give thee corn enough to feed the world.

Ray.

I need not golden apples, not yourcorn; What land soe're, the worlds surveyor, the Sun Can measure in a day, I dare call mine: All kingdoms I have right to, I am free Of every Countrie; in the four elements I have as deep a share as an Emperor; All beasts whom the earth bears are to serv me, All birds to sing to me, and can you catch me With a tempting golden Apple,

Plen.

Shee'•• too good ••or thee; When she was born, the Sun for joy did rise Before his time, on••ly to kisse those 〈◊〉〈◊〉, Which having touch'd, he stole from them such store O•• ligh••, she shone more bright then e're before: At which he vow'd, when ever thee did die, Hee'd snatch them u••, and in h••s 〈◊〉〈◊〉 sphere Place them, since ••he had no two stars so clear.

Ray.

Let him now sna••ch them up away.

Hu.

Away, and leav this Gipsie.

Sun.

Oh! I am lost.

Ray.

Love scorn'd, of no triumph more then love can boast.

Exit.

Plen.

This strump will confound him.

Recorders.

Sum.

She has me deluded—

Enter Sun.

Sun.

Is Raybright gon.

Sum.

Yes, and his spightful eies Have shot darts through me.

Sun.

I, thy wounds will cure, And lengthen out thy daies, his followers gon▪ Cupid and Fortune take you charge of him.

Here thou, my brightest Queen, must end thy reign, Som nine months hence I'le shine on thee again.

Exeunt.