'T is such a pleasing smart, and I so love it, On his eyes will I gaze, and there delight me; WHEREVER I am, and whatever I do, When from my eyes Phyllis is gone. [mind; Sometimes a sad dream does delude my sad But, alas! when I wake, and no Phyllis I find, How I sigh to myself all alone! Should a king be my rival in her I adore, He should offer his treasure in vain : Let Phyllis be mine, and but ever be kind, II. HE. How unhappy a lover am I, While I sigh for my Phyllis in vain; All my hopes of delight Are another man's right, Who is happy, while I am in pain! SHE. Since her honour allows no relief, HE. But to pity the pains which you bear, "T is the best of your fate, In a hopeless estate To give o'er, and betimes to despair. Has no food to its fire; But it burns and consumes me within. SHE. Yet, at least, 't is a pleasure to know For the nymph you adore Is as wretched, and more; And counts all your sufferings her own. HE. O ye gods, let me suffer for both; To be pitied by her when I die. For the souls to meet closer above. SONG OF THE SEA-FIGHT, IN AMBOYNA. WHO ever saw a noble sight, That never view'd a brave sea-fight! spright, [fight. Now each man his brindice, and then to the St. George, St. George, we cry, The shouting Turks reply Ply it with culverin and with small shot; [roar, fall; [amain, She grows giddy now, like blind Fortune's She sinks there, she sinks, she turns up her keel. INCANTATION IN CEDIPUS. TIR. CHOOSE the darkest part o' th' grove, ALL PR. 'T is done. TIR. Is the sacrifice made fit? ALL PR. 'T is done. TIR. Pour in blood, and blood-like wine, ALBION, lov'd of gods and men, In thy age, when none could aid thee, Foes conspir'd, and friends betray'd thee. SONGS IN ALBION AND ALBANIUS. Still thou art the care of heaven. The gods from above the mad labour behold, To the plunder we run: We return to our lasses like fortunate traders, Triumphant with spoils of the vanquish'd invaders. II. MAN SINGS. On sight, the mother of desires, 'T is sweet, when tedious night expires, To see the rosy morning gild The mountain-tops, and paint the field! But when Clarinda comes in sight, She makes the summer's day more bright; And when she goes away, 't is night. CHORUS. FAIREST isle, all isle excelling, Seat of pleasures and of love; Venus here will choose her dwelling, And forsake her Cyprian groves. Cupid from his favourite nation Care and envy will remove; Jealousy, that poisons passion, And despair, that dies for love. Gentle murmurs, sweet complaining, Sighs, that blow the fire of love; Soft repulses, kind disdaining, Shall be all the pains you prove. Every swain shall pay his duty, Grateful every nymph shall prove, And as these excel in beauty, Those shall be renown'd for love. PROLOGUES AND EPILOGUES. A SECOND PROLOGUE ENTERS. 2. Hold would you admit 2. All who (like him) have writ ill plays be- All maudlin lovers, and all slighted maids; PROLOGUES AND EPILOGUES. PROLOGUE TO THE RIVAL LADIES. "T is much desir'd, you judges of the town They e'er converted one hard-hearted wit? Though his plot's dull, as can be well desired, There is a mode in plays as well as clothes; PROLOGUE TO THE INDIAN As the music plays a soft air, the curtain rises slowly,and discovers an India boy and girl sleeping under two plantain-trees; and, when the curtain is almost up, the music turns into a tune expressing an alarm, at which the boy awakes, and speaks: BOY. WAKE, wake, Quevira! our soft rest must cease. And fly together with our country's peace! invade ; Where bounteous nature never feels decay, all possess As much as they can hope for by success?- told, Our world shall be subdued by one more old ;- QUE. If these be they, we welcome then our doom! [thence, Their looks are such, that mercy flows from More gentie than our native innocence. Boy. Why should we then fear these our That rather seem to us like deities? [enemies QUE. By their protection, let us beg to live ; They came not here to conquer, but forgive. If so, your goodness may your power express, And we shall judge both best by our success. EPILOGUE TO THE INDIAN QUEEN. SPOKEN BY MONTEZUMA. You see what shifts we are enforc'd to try, Shows may be found that never yet were seen, here. At untaught nature with your practis'd wit: Our naked Indians, then, when wits appear, Would as soon choose to have the Spaniards [show, 'Tis true you have marks enough, the plot, the The poet's scenes, nay, more, the painters too; If all this fail, considering the cost, 'T is a true voyage to the Indies lost : But if you smile on all, then these designs, Like the imperfect treasure of our minds, Will pass for current wheresoe'er they go, When to your bounteous hands their stamps they owe. EPILOGUE TO THE INDIAN EMPEROR. BY A MERCURY. To all and singular in this full meeting, Ladies and gallants, Phoebus send ye greeting. To all his sons, by whate'er title known, Whether of court, or coffee house, or town; From his most mighty sons, whose confidence Is plac'd in lofty sound, and humble sense, Even to his little infants of the time, [rhyme; Who write new songs, and trust in tune and Be't known, that Phoebus (being daily grieved To see good plays condemn'd, and bad received) Ordains your judgment upon every cause, too; All that appears high sense, and scarce is low. Phoebus gives them full privilege alone, Last, for the ladies, 't is Apollo's will, PROLOGUE TO SIR MARTIN MARRALL. FOOLS, which each man meets in his diso each day, Are yet the great regalios of a play; In which to poets you but just appear, To prize that highest, which cost them so dear: Fops in the town more easily will pass; One story makes a statutable ass : But such in plays must be much thicker sown, Like yolks of eggs, a dozen beat to one. Observing poets all their walks invade, [glade: As men watch woodcocks gliding through a And when they have enough for comedy, They stow their several bodies in a pie : The poet's but the cook to fashion it, For, gallants, you yourselves have found the To bid you welcome, would your bounty wrong; None welcome those who bring their cheer along. [wit. |