ALBION AND ALBANIUS: AN OPERA. Performed at the QUEENS Theatre, in Dorset Garden. Written by Mr. Dryden. Discite justitiam moniti, & non temnere Divos. Virg. LONDON, Printed for jacob Tonson, at the Judge's Head in Chancery-lane, near Fleetstreet. 1685. THE PREFACE. IF Wit has truly been defined a propriety of Thoughts and Words, than that Definition will extend to all sorts of Poetry; and amongst the rest, to this present entertainment of an Opera. Propriety of thought is that Fancy which arises naturally from the Subject, or which the Poet adapts to it. Propriety of Words, is the clothing of those thoughts with such Expressions, as are naturally proper to them: and from both these, if they are judiciously performed, the delight of Poetry results. An Opera is a poetical Tale or Fiction, represented by Vocal and Instrumental Music, adorned with Scenes, Machine's and Dancing. The supposed Persons of this musical Drama, are generally supernatural, as Gods and Goddesses, and Heroes, which at least are descended from them, and are in due time, to be adopted into their Number. The Subject therefore being extended beyond the Limits of Humane Nature, admits of that sort of marvellous and surprising conduct, which is rejected in other Plays. Humane Impossibilities, are to be received, as they are in Faith; because where Gods are introduced, a Supreme Power is to be understood; and second Causes are out of doors. Yet propriety is to be observed even here. The Gods are all to manage their peculiar Provinces: and what was attributed by the Heathens to one Power, ought not to be performed by any other. Phoebus' must foretell, Mercury must charm with his Caduceus, and juno must reconcile the Quarrels of the Marriage-bed. To conclude, they must all act according to their distinct and peculiar Characters. If the Persons represented were to speak upon the Stage, it would follow of necessity, That the Expressions should be lofty, figurative and majestical: but the nature of an Opera denies the frequent use of those poetical Ornaments: for Vocal Music, though it often admits a loftiness of sound: yet always exacts an harmonious sweetness; or to distinguish yet more justly, The recitative part of the Opera requires a more masculine Beauty of expression and sound: the other which (for want of a proper English Word) I must call, The Songish Part, must abound in the softness and variety of Numbers: its principal Intention, being to please the Hearing, rather than to gratify the understanding. It appears indeed, Preposterous at first sight, That Rhyme, on any consideration should take place of Reason. But in order to resolve the Problem, this fundamental proposition must be settled, That the first Inventors of any Art or Science, provided they have brought it to perfection, are, in reason, to give Laws to it; and according to their Model, all after Undertakers are to build. Thus in Epique Poetry, no Man ought to dispute the Authority of Homer, who gave the first being to that Masterpiece of Art, and endued it with that form of Perfection in all its Parts, that nothing was wanting to its excellency. Virgil therefore, and those very few who have succeeded him, endeavoured not to introduce or innovate any thing in a Design already perfected, but imitated the plan of the Inventor: and are only so far true Heroic Poets, as they have built on the Foundations of Homer. Thus Pindar, the Author of those Odes, (which are so admirably restored by Mr. Cowley in our Language,) ought for ever to be the Standard of them; and we are bound according to the practice of Horace and Mr. Cowley, to Copy him. Now, to apply this Axiom, to our present purpose, whosoever undertakes the writing of an Opera, (which is a modern Invention, though built indeed, on the foundations of Ethnique Worship,) is obliged to imitate the Design of the Italians, who have not only invented, but brought to perfection, this sort of Dramatic Musical Entertainment. I have not been able by any search, to get any light either of the time, when it began, or of the first Author. But I have probable Reasons, which induce me to believe, that some Italians having curiously observed the gallantries of the Spanish moors at their Zambras, or Royal Feasts, where Music, Songs and Dancing were in perfection; together with their Machine's, which are usual at their Sortiia's, or running at the Ring, and other Solemnities, may possibly have refined upon those Moresque Divertisements, and produced this delightful Entertainment, by leaving out the warlike Part of the Carousels, and forming a poetical Design for the use of the Machine's, the Songs and Dances. But however it began, (for this is only conjectural,) we know that for some Centuries, the knowledge of Music has flourished principally in Italy, the Mother of Learning and of Arts; that Poetry and Painting have been there restored, and so cultivated by Italian Masters, That all Europe has been enriched out of their Treasury: and the other Parts of it in relation to those delightful Arts, are still as much provincial to Italy, as they were in the time of the Roman Empire. Their first Operas seem to have been intended for the Celebration of the Marriages of their Princes, or for the magnificence of some general time of Joy. Accordingly the Expenses of them were from the Purse of the Sovereign, or of the Republic, as they are still practised at Venice, Rome, and other Places at their Carnivals'. Savoy and Florence have often used them in their Courts, at the Weddings of their Dukes: And at Turin particularly, was performed the Pastor Fido, written by the famous Guarini, which is a Pastoral Opera made to solemnize the Marriage of a Duke of Savoy. The Prologue of it, has given the Design to all the French, which is a Compliment to the Sovereign Power by some God or Goddesses: so that it looks no less than a kind of Embassy from Heaven to Earth. I said, in the beginning of this Preface, that the Persons represented in Operas, are generally, Gods, Goddesses and Heroes descended from them, who are supposed to be their peculiar care: which hinders not, but that meaner Persons, may sometimes gracefully be introduced, especially if they have relation to those first times, which Poets call the Golden Age: wherein by reason of their Innocence, those happy Mortals, were supposed to have had a more familiar intercourse with Superior Being's: and therefore Shepherds might reasonably be admitted, as of all Callings, the most innocent, the most happy, and who by reason of the spare time they had, in their almost idle Employment, had most leisure to make Verses, and to be in Love: without somewhat of which Passion, no Opera can possibly subsist. 'Tis almost needless to speak any thing of that noble Language, in which this Musical Drama, was first invented and performed. All, who are conversant in the Italian, cannot but observe, that it is the softest, the sweetest, the most harmonious, not only of any modern Tongue, but even beyond any of the Learned. It seems indeed to have been invented for the sake of Poetry and Music: the Vowels are so abounding in all Words, especially in the Terminations of them, that excepting some few Monosyllables, the whole Language ends in them. Then the Pronunciation is so manly and so sonorous, that their very speaking has more of Music in it, than Dutch, Poetry and Song. It has withal derived so much Copiousness and Eloquence from the Greek and Latin in the composition of Words, and the formation of them, that (if after all, we must call it barbarous) 'tis the most beautiful and most learned of any Barbarism in Modern Tongues. And we may, at least, as justly praise it, as Pyrrhus did the Roman Discipline, and Martial Order, that it was of Barbarians, (for so the Greeks called all other Nations) but had nothing in it of barbarity. This Language has in a manner been refined and purified from the Gothick, ever since the time of Dantè, which is above four hundred Years ago; and the French, who now cast a longing Eye to their Country, are not less ambitious to possess their Elegance in Poetry and Music: in both which they labour at Impossibilities. 'Tis true indeed, they have reformed their Tongue, and brought both their Prose and Poetry to a Standard: the Sweetness as well as the Purity is much improved, by throwing off the unnecessary Consonants, which made their Spelling tedious, and their pronunciation harsh: But after all, as nothing can be improved beyond its own Species, or farther than its original Nature will allow: as an ill Voice though never so thoroughly instructed in the Rules of Music, can never be brought to sing harmoniously, nor many an honest Critic, ever arrive to be a good Poet, so neither can the natural harshness of the French or their perpetual ill Accent, be ever refined into perfect Harmony like the Italian. The English has yet more natural disadvantage than the French; our original Teutonique consisting most in Monosyllables, and those encumbered with Consonants cannot possibly be freed from those Inconveniences. The rest of our Words, which are derived from the Latin chiefly, and the French, with some small sprinklings of Greek, Italian and Spanish, are some relief in Poetry; and help us to soften our uncouth Numbers, which together with our English Genius, incomparably beyond the trifling of the French, in all the nobler Parts of Verse, will justly give us the Preeminences But, on the other hand, the Effeminacy of our pronunciation, (a defect common to us, and to the Danes) and our scarcity of female Rhymes, have left the advantage of musical composition for Songs, though not for recitative, to our neighbours. Through these Difficulties, I have made a shift to struggle, in my part of the performance of this Opera; which, as mean as it is, deserves at least a Pardon, because it has attempted a discovery beyond any former Undertaker of our Nation: only remember, that if there be no North-East Passage to be found, the fault is in Nature, and not in me. Or as Ben. johnson tells us in the Alchemist, when Projection had failed, and the Glasses were all broken, there was enough however in the Bottoms of them to cure the Itch; so I may thus far be positive, That if I have not succeeded, as I desire, yet there is somewhat still remaining, to satisfy the Curiosity or Itch of Sight and Hearing. so Wise as not to be imposed upon, and fooled out of their satisfaction. The newness of the undertaking is all the hazard: When Operas were first set up in France, they were not followed over eagerly; but they gained daily upon their Hearers, till they grew to that height of Reputation which they now enjoy. The English I confess, are not altogether so Musical as the French, and yet they have been pleased already, with the Tempest, and some pieces that followed, which were neither much better Written, nor so well Composed as this. If it finds encouragement, I dare promise myself to mend my hand, by making a more pleasing Fable: In the mean time, every Loyal Englishman, cannot but be satisfied with the Moral of this, which so plainly represents the double restoration of his Sacred Majesty. POSTSCRIPT. This Preface being wholly Written before the Death of my late Royal Master, (quem semper acerbum, semper honoratum, sic Dii voluistis, habebo,) I have now, lately, reviewed it, as supposing I should find many notions in it, that would require correction on cooler thoughts. After four Months lying by me, I looked on it as no longer mine, because I had wholly forgotten it; but, I confess, with some satisfaction, and perhaps a little vanity, that I found myself entertained by it; my own judgement was new to me, and pleased me when I looked on it, as another Man's. I see no Opinion that I would retract or alter, unless it be, that possibly the Italians went not so far as Spain, for the Invention of their Operas. They might have it in their own Country; and that by gathering up the Shipwrecks of the Athenian and Roman theatres; which we know were adorned with Scenes, Music, Dances and Machine's, especially the Grecian. But of this the Learned Monsieur Vossius, who has made our Nation his second Country, is the best, and perhaps the only judge now living: As for the Opera itself, it was all composed, and was just ready to have been performed when he, in Honour of whom it was principally made, was taken from us. He had been pleased twice or thrice to command, that it should be practised, before him, especially the first and third Acts of it; and publicly declared more than once, That the compositio and Chorus's, were more Just, and more Beautiful, than any he had heard in England. How nice an Ear he had in Music is sufficiently known; his praise therefore has established the Reputation of it, above censure, and made it in a manner Sacred. 'Tis therefore humbly and Religiously dedicated to his Memory. It might reasonably have been expected, that his Death must have changed the whole Fabric of the Opera; or at least a great part of it. But the design of it Originally, was so happy, that it needed no alteration, properly so called: for the addition of twenty or thirty lines, in the Apotheosis of Albion, has made it entirely of a Piece. This was the only way which could have been invented, to save it from a botched ending; and it fell luckily into my imagination▪ As if there were a kind of fatality, even in the most trivial things concerning the Succession; a change was made, and not for the worse, without the least confusion or disturbance: And those very causes which seemed to threaten us with troubles, conspired to produce our lasting Happiness. Names of the Persons Represented; in the same Order as they appear first upon the STAGE. Mercury. Augusta. London. Thamesis. Democracy. Zelota. Feigned Zeal. Archon. The General. juno. Iris. Albion. Albanius. Pluto. Allecto. Apollo. Neptune. Nereids. Acacia. Innocence. Tyranny. Asebia. Atheism or Ungodliness. Proteus. Venus. Fame. A Chorus of Cities. A Chorus of Rivers. A Chorus of the People. A Chorus of Furies. A Chorus of Nereids and Tritons. A Grand Chorus of Hero's, Loves and Graces. The FRONTISPIECE. THe Curtain rises, and a new Frontispiece is seen, joined to the great Pylasters', which are on each side of the Stage: On the flat of each Basis is a Shield, adorned with Gold: In the middle of the Shield on one side, are two Hearts, a small Scroll of Gold over 'em, and an Imperial Crown over the Scroll; on the other, in the Shield are two Quivers full of Arrows Saltyre, etc. Upon each Basis stands a Figure bigger than the life; one represents Peace, with a Palm in one, and an Olive Branch in the other Hand; t' other Plenty, holding a Cornucopia, and resting on a Pillar. Behind these Figures are large Columns of the Corinthian Order adorned with Fruit and Flowers: over one of the Figures on the Trees is the King's cipher; over the other the Queens: over the Capitals, on the Cornice sits a Figure on each side; one presents Poetry crowned with Laurel, holding a Scroll in one Hand the other with a Pen in it, and resting on a Book; the other painting with a Pallas and Pencils, etc. On the sweep of the Arch lies one of the Muses, playing on a Base Voyal; another of the Muses, on the other side, holding a Trumpet in one Hand, and the other on a Harp. Between these Figures, in the middle of the Sweep of the Arch, is a very large Panel in a frame of Gold; in this Panel is painted on one side a Woman representing the City of London, leaning her Head on her Hand in a dejected Posture. (showing her Sorrow and Penitence for her Offences;) the other Hand holds the Arms of the City, and a Mace lying under it: on the other side, is a Figure of the Thames with his Legs shakleed and leaning on an empty Vine behind these are two Imperial Figures; one representing his present Majesty; the other the Queen; by the King stands Pallas (or Wisdom, and Valour,) holding a Charter for the City, the King extending his Hand, as raising her drooping Head, and restoring her to her ancient Honour and Glory: over the City are the envious devouring Harpies flying from the face of Majesty: by the Queen stand the three Graces holding Garlands of Flowers, and at her feet Cupids bound, with their Bows and Arrows broken, the Queen pointing with her Sceptre to the River, and commanding the Graces to take off his Fetters: over the King in a Scroll, is this Verse of Virgil, Discite justitiam, moniti, & non temnere Divos. Over the Queen, this of the same Author, Non ignara mali, miseris succurere disco. ERRATA. PAge 7th, Line 3d. for Hypocracy, read hypocrisy Page 9 line the last, for the, read thy. Page 11. line the third, for you, read yond. Page 16 read the sixteenth line thus, With Pity Jove beholds thy State. Page 17. the last line, read. And from her Mantle. Page 22. line the third, read it thus, Sea-raceing Dolphins are trained for our Motion. Ibid. line the 7th, for unattended, read ●attending. PROLOGUE To the OPERA. By Mr. Dryden. FUll twenty years and more, our labouring Stage Has lost, on this incorrgible age: Our Poets, the john Ketches of the Nation, Have seemed to lash ye, even to excoriation: But still no sign remains; which plainly notes, You bore like Hero's, or you bribed like Oats. What can we do, when mimicking a Fop, Like beating, Nut-trees, makes a larger Crop? Faith we'll e'en spare our pains: and to content you, Will fairly leave you what your Maker meant you. Satire was once your Physic, Wit your Food; One nourished not, and t'other drew no Blood. We now prescribe, like Doctors in despair, The Diet your weak appetites can bear. Since hearty Beef and Mutton will not do, Here's Julep dance, Ptisan of Song and show: Give you strong Sense, the liquour is too heady; You're come to farce, that's Asaph's milk, already. Some hopeful Youths there are, of callow Wit, Who one Day may be Men, if Heaven think fit; Sound may serve such, ere they to Sense are grown; Like leading strings, till they can walk alone: But yet to keep our Friends in countenance, know, The Wise Italians first invented show; Thence, into France the Noble Pageant past; 'Tis England's Credit to be cozened last. Freedom and Zeal have choosed you o'er and o'er; Pray give us leave to bubble you once more; You never were so cheaply fooled before. We bring you change, to humour your Disease; Change for the worse has ever used to please: Then 'tis the mode of France, without whose Rules, None must presume to set up here for Fools: In France, the oldest Man is always young, Sees Opera's daily, learns the Tunes so long, Till Foot, Hand, Head, keep time with every Song. Each sings his part, echoing from Pit and Box, With his hoarse Voice, half Harmony, half Pox. Le plus grand Roy du Monde, is always ringing; They show themselves good Subjects by their singing. On that condition, set up every Throat; You whigs may sing, for you have changed your Note. Cits and Citesses, raise a joyful strain, 'Tis a good Omen to begin a Reign: Voices may help your Charter to restoring; And get by singing, what you lost by roaring. EPILOGUE To the OPERA. By Mr. Dryden. AFter our AEsop's Fable, shown to day, I come to give the Moral of the Play. Feigned Zeal, you saw, set out the speedier pace; But, the last heat, Plain Dealing won the Race: Plain Dealing for a Jewel has been known; But ne'er till now the Jewel of a Crown. When Heaven made Man, to show the work Divine, Truth was his Image, stamped upon the Coin: And, when a King is to a God refined, On all he says and does, he stamps his Mind: This proves a Soul without allay, and pure; Kings, like their Gold, should every touch endure. To dare in Fields is Valour; but how few Dare be so throughly Valiant to be true? The Name of Great, let other Kings affect: He's Great indeed, the Prince that is direct. His Subjects know him now, and trust him more, Than all their Kings, and all their Laws before. What safety could their public Acts afford? Those he can break; but cannot break his Word. So great a Trust to him alone was due; Well have they trusted whom so well they knew. The Saint, who walked on Waves, securely trod, While he believed the beckoning of his God; But, when his Faith no longer bore him out, Began to sink, as he began to doubt. Let us our native Character maintain, 'Tis of our growth, to be sincerely plain. T' excel in Truth, we Loyally may strive; Set Privilege against Prerogative: He Plights his Faith; and we believe him just; His Honour is to Promise, ours to Trust. Thus Britain's Basis on a Word is laid, As by a Word the World itself was made. FINIS. ALBION, AND ALBANIUS; An OPERA. Decorations of the Stage in the First Act. THE Curtain rises, and there appears on either side of the Stage, next to the Frontispiece, a Statue on Horseback, of Gold, on Pedestal's of Marble, enriched with Gold, and bearing the Imperial Arms of England: one of these Statues is taken from that of the late King, at Charing-Cross; the other, from that Figure of his present Majesty (done by that noble Artist Mr. Gibbons) at Windsor. The Scene, is a Street of Palaces, which lead to the Front of the Royal Exchange; the great Arch is open, and the view is continued through the open part of the Exchange, to the Arch on the other side, and thence to as much of the Street beyond, as could, properly be teaken. Mercury descends in a Chariot drawn by Ravens. He comes to Augusta, and Thamesis. They lie on Couches, at a distance from each other, in dejected postures; She attended by Cities, He by Rivers. On the side of Augusta's Couch are Painted Towers falling, a Scarlet Gown, and Gold Chain, a Cap of Maintenance thrown down, and a Sword in a Velvet Scabbard thrust through it, the City Arms, a Mace with an old useless Charter, and all in disorder. Before Thamesis, are broken Reeds, Bulrushes, Sedge, etc. with his Urn Reversed. ACT I. Mercury Descends. Merc. THou glorious Fabric! stand for ever, stand: Well Worthy Thou to entertain The God of Traffic, and of Gain! To draw the Concourse of the Land, And Wealth of all the Main. But where the shoals of Merchant's meeting? Welcome to their Friends repeating, Busy Bargains deafer sound! Tongue's Confused of every Nation? Nothing here but Desolation, Mournful silence reigns around. Aug. O Hermes! pity me! I was, while Heaven did smile, The Queen of all this Isle, Europe's Pride, And Albion's Bride; But gone my Plighted Lord! ah, gone is He! O Hermes! pity me! Tham. And I the Noble Flood, whose tributary Tide Does on her Silver Margin smoothly glide; But Heaven grew jealous of our happy state: And bid revolving Fate, Our Doom decree: No more the King of Floods am I, No more the Queen of Albion, She! These two Lines are Sung by Reprises, betwixt Augusta and Thamisis. Aug. O Hermes! pity me! Tham. O Hermes! pity me! Sung by Augusta and Thamesis together. Aug. Behold! Tham. Behold! Aug. My Turrets on the ground That once my Temples crowned! Tham. The Sedgy Honours of my Brow's dispersed! My Urn reversed! Merc. Rise, rise, Augusta, rise! And wipe thy weeping Eyes: Augusta! for I call thee so! 'Tis lawful for the Gods to know Thy Future Name, And growing Fame. Rise rise, Augusta, rise. Aug. O never, never will I rise! Never will I cease my mourning, Never wipe my Weeping Eyes, Till my plighted Lords returning! Never never will I rise! Merc. What brought Thee, Wretch, to this despair? The Cause of thy Misfortune show. Aug. It seems the Gods take little Care Of Humane things below, When even our Sufferings here they do not know! Merc. Not unknowing came I down, Disloyal Town! Speak! didst not Thou Forsake thy Faith, and break thy Nuptial Vow? Aug. Ah 'tis too true! too true! But what could I, unthinking City, do? Faction swayed me, Zeal allured me, Both assured me, Both betrayed me! Merc. Suppose me sent Thy Albion to restore, Canst thou repent? Aug. My falsehood I deplore! Tham. Thou seest her mourn; and I With all my Waters, will her Tears supply. Merc. Then by some loyal Deed regain Thy long lost Reputation, To wash away the stain That blots a Noble Nation! And free thy famous Town again From force of Usurpation! Chor. of all. We'll wash away the stain That blots a noble Nation, And free this famous Town again From force of Usurpation. [Dance of the followers of Mercury. Aug. Behold Democracy and Zeal appear, She that allured my Heart away, And He that after made a prey. Merc. Resist, and do not fear! Chor. of all. Resist, & do not fear! [Enter Democracy and Zeal attended by Archon. Democ. Nymph of the City! bring thy Treasures, Bring me more To waste in Pleasures. Aug. Thou hast exhausted all my Store, And I can give no more. Zeal. Thou Horny Flood for Zeal provide A new Supply; And swell thy Moony tide, That on thy buxom Back the floating Gold may glide. Tham. Not all the Gold the Southern Sun produces, Or Treasures of the famed Levant, Suffice for Pious uses, To feed the sacred hunger of a Saint! Democ. Woe to the Vanquished, woe! Slave as thou art, Thy Wealth impart, And me thy Victor know! Zeal. And me thy Victor know, Resistless Arms are in my hand, Thy Barrs shall burst at my Command, Thy Towry Head lie low. Woe to the Vanquished, woe! Aug. Were I not bound by fate For ever, ever here, My Walls I would translate To some more happy Sphere, Removed from servile fear. Tham. Removed from servile fear, Would I could disappear And sink below the Main; For Commonwealth's a Load My old Imperial Flood Shall never never never bear again. Thamesis and Augusta together. A Commonwealth's a Load Our old Imperial Flood Shall never never bear again. Dem. Pull down her Gates Expose her bare; I must enjoy the proud, disdainful fair. Haste, Archon, Haste To lay her waste! Zel. I'll hold her fast To be embraced! Dem. And she shall see A Thousand Tyrants are in thee, A Thousand thousand more in me! Archon to Aug. From the Caledonion Shore Hither am I come to save thee, Not to force or to enslave thee, But thy Albion to restore: Hark! the peals the People ring, Peace, and freedom and a King. Chor. Hark! the Peals the People ring. Peace and freedom and a King. Aug. Tham. To Arms! to Arms! Archon. I lead the way! Merc. Cease your Alarms! And stay, brave Archon, stay! 'Tis Doomed by Fates Decree! 'Tis Doomed that Albion's dwelling, All other Isles excelling, By Peace shall Happy be! Archon. What then remains for me? Merc. Take my Caduceus! take this awful Wand, With this th' Infernal Ghosts I can command, And strike a Terror thro' the Stygian Land. Commonwealth will want pretences Sleep will Creep on all his Senses; Zeal that lent him her assistance, Stand amazed without resistance. Archon touches Democracy with a Wand. Dem. I feel a lazy slumber lays me down! Let Albion! let him take the Crown! Happy let him reign, Till I wake again! [falls-asleep. Zel. In vain I rage, In vain, I rouse my Powers; But I shall wake again; I shall to better Hours. Even in slumber I will vex him; Still perplex him, Still encumber: Know you that have adored him, And Sovereign power afford him, we'll reap the gains Of all your pains And seem to have restored him! [Zel. falls asleep. Aug. and Tham. A stupyfying sadness Leaves Her without motion; But sleep will cure her madness, And cool her to Devotion. A double Pedestal rises: On the Front of it is painted, in Stone colour, two Women; one holding a double Faced Vizor; the other a Book, representing Hypocracy and Phanaticism; when Archon has charmed Democracy and Zeal with the Caduceus of Mercury, they fall a sleep on the Pedestal, and it sinks with them. Merc. CEase, Augusta! Cease thy mourning, Happy days appear, Godlike Albion is returning Loyal Hearts to Cheer! Every Grace his youth Adorning, Glorious as the Star of Morning, Or the Planet of the Year. Chor. Godlike Albion is returning, etc. Merc. to Arch. Hast away, Loyal chief, hast away. No delay, but obey: To receive thy loved Lord! hast away. Ex. Arch. Tham. Medway and Isis, you that augment me, Tides that increase my watery store, And you that are Friends to Peace and Plenty, Send my merry Boys all ashore; Sea Men Skipping, Mariners Leaping, Shouting, Tripping, Send my merry Boys all ashore! A Dance of Watermen in the King's and Duke's Liveries. The Clouds divide, and Juno appears in a Machine drawn by Peacocks; while a Symphony is playing, it moves gently forward, and as it descends, it opens and discovers the Tail of the Peacock, which is so Large, that it almost fills the opening of the Stage between Scene and Scene. Merc. THe Clouds divide, what Wonders, What Wonders do I see! The Wife of jove, 'Tis she, That Thunders, More than thundering He! juno. No, Hermes, No; 'Tis Peace above As 'tis below: For jove has left his wandering Love. Tham. Great Queen of gathering Clouds; Whose Moisture fills our Floods, See; we fall before Thee, Prostrate we adore Thee! Aug. Great Queen of Nuptial Rites, Whose power the Souls Unites, And fills the Genial Bed with chaste Delights, See; we fall before Thee Prostrate we adore Thee! juno. 'Tis ratified above by every God, And jove has firmed it with an Awful Nod; That Albion shall his love renew: But oh, ungrateful Fair, Repeated Crimes beware, And to his Bed be true! Iris appears on a very large Machine. This was really seen the 18th of March 1684. by Capt. Christopher Gunman, on Board his R. H. Yacht, then in Calais Pierre: He drew it as it then appeared, and gave a draught of it to us. We have only added the Cloud where the Person of Iris sits. juno. SPeak Iris, from Batavia, speak the News! Has she performed my dread Command, Returning Albion to his longing Land, Or dares the Nymph refuse? Iris. Albion, by the Nymph attended, Was to Neptune recommended, Peace and plenty spread the Sails: Venus in her shell before him, From the Sands in safety bore him, And supplied Etesian gales. [Retornella Archon on the Shore Commanding, Lowly met him at his Landing, Crowds of People swarmed around; Welcome rang like Peals of Thunder; Welcome, rend the Skies asunder; Welcome, Heaven and Earth resound. juno. Why stay we then on Earth When Mortals laugh and love? 'tis time to mount above And send Astraea down, The Ruler of his Birth, And Guardian of his Crown. 'Tis time to mount above, And send Astraea down. Mer. Iu. Ir. 'Tis time to mount above, And send Astraea down. [Mer. Ju. and Iris ascend. Aug. and Tham. The Royal Squadron Marches, Erect Tryumphal Arches, For Albion and Albanius: Rejoice at their returning, The passages adorning: The Royal Squadron marches, Erect Triumphal Arches For Albion and Albanius. Part of the Scene disappears, and the 4 Triumphal Arches erected at his Majesty's Coronation are seen. Albion appears, Albanius by his side, preceded by Archon, followed by a Train, etc. Full Chor. HAil, Royal Albion, Hail. Aug. Hail Royal Albion, Hail to thee, Thy longing People's expectation: Tham. Sent from the Gods to set us free. From Bondage and from Usurpation! Aug. To pardon and to pity me, And to forgive a guilty Nation! Tham. Behold the differing Climes agree. Rejoicing in the Restauration. Entry; Representing the Four parts of the World, rejoicing at the Restauration of Albion. ACT II. The Scene is a Poetical Hell. The Change is Total. The Upper part of the House, as well as the Side Scenes. There is the Figure of Prometheus chained to a Rock, the Vulture gnawing his Liver. Sisyphus rolling the Stone, the Belides, etc. beyond, abundance of Figures in various Torments. Then a great Arch of Fire. Behind this Three Pyramids of Flames in perpetual agitation. Beyond this, glowing Fire which terminates the Prospect. Pluto, the Furies, with Allecto, Democracy and Zelota. Plut. INfernal Offspring of the Night, Debarred of Heaven your Native right, And from the glorious Fields of Light, Condemned in shades to drag the Chain, And fill with groans the gloomy Plain; Since Pleasures here are none below, Be ill our good, our joy be Woe; Our Work t' embroil the Worlds above, Disturb their Union, disunite their Love, And blast the Beauteous frame of our Victorious Foe. Democ. and Zealot. together. Oh thou for whom those Worlds are made, Thou Sire of all things and their end, From hence they spring, and when they fade In Shuffled Heaps they hither tend; Here Humane Souls receive their Breath, And wait for Bodies after Death. Democ. Hear our Complaint and grant our Prayer. Pluto. Speak what you are, And whence you fell? Democ. I am thy first begotten care, Conceived in Heaven; but born in Hell, When Thou didst bravely undertake in fight You Arbitrary Power, That rules by Sovereign might, To set thy heaven-born fellows free And leave no difference in Degree, In that Auspicious Hour Was I begot by Thee. Zelota. One Mother bore us at a Birth, Her Name was Zeal before she fell; No fairer Nymph in Heaven or Earth Till Saintship taught her to rebel: But losing Fame And changing Name She's now the Good Old Cause in Hell. Plut. Dear Pledges of a Flame not yet forgot, Say, what on Earth has been your lot? Dem. and Zel. The Wealth of Albion's Isle was ours, Augusta stooped with all her stately Towrs! Dem. Democracy kept Nobles under. Zel. Zeal from the Pulpit roared like Thunder. Dem. I trampled on the State. Zel. I lorded o'er the Gown. Dem. and Zel. We both in Triumph sat Usurpers of the Crown. But oh Prodigious turn of Fate! Heaven controlling, Sent us rolling, rolling, down. Plut. I wondered how of late our Acherontique shore Grew thin, and Hell unpeopleed of her Store; Charon for want of Use forgot his Oar. The Souls of Bodies Dead flew all Sublime, And hither none returned to purge a Crime: But now I see since Albion is restored, Death has no Business, nor the vengeful Sword. 'Tis too too much that here I lie From glorious Empire hurled; By jove excluded from the Sky, By Albion from the World. Dem. Were Commonwealth restored again, Thou shouldst have Millions of the slain To fill thy dark abode. Zel. For He a Race of Rebels sends, And Zeal the Path of Heaven pretends; But still mistakes the road. Pluto. My labouring thought At length hath wrought A bravely bold design, In which you both shall join; In borrowed shapes to Earth return; Thou Commonwealth, a Patriot seem, Thou Zeal, like true Religion burn, To gain the giddy Crowds Esteem. Allecto, thou to fair Augusta go, And all thy Snakes into her Bosom throw. Dem. Spare some to fling Where they may sting The Breast of Albion's King. Zel. Let Jealousies so well be mixed, That great Albanius be unfixt! Pluto. Forbear your vain Attempts, forbear; Hell can have no admittance there: The People's fear will serve as well, Make him suspected, them Rebel. Zel. Y' have all forgot To forge a Plot In seeming Care of Albion's Life; Inspire the Crowd With Clamours loud T' involve his Brother and his Wife. Allecto. Take of a Thousand Souls at thy Command, The basest, blackest of the Stygian band: One that will Swear to all they can invent, So throughly Damned that he can ne'er repent: One often sent to Earth, And still at every Birth He took a deeper stain: One that in Adam's time was Cain: One that was burnt in Sodom's flame, For Crimes even here too black to name: One, who through every form of ill has run: One who in Naboth's days was Belial's Son: One who has gained a Body fit for Sin; Where all his Crimes Of former Times Lie Crowded in a Skin. Pluto. Take him; Make him What you please; For He Can be A Rogue with ease. One for mighty Mischief Born: He can Swear and be Forsworn. Pluto and Allecto take him, etc. Take him, make him what you please; For He can be a Rogue with ease. Pluto. Let us laugh, let us laugh, let us laugh at our Woes, The Wretch that is damned has nothing to lose. Ye Furies advance With the Ghosts in a Dance, 'Tis a Jubilee here when the World is in trouble: When People rebel We frolic in Hell; But when the King falls, the pleasure is double: A single Entry of a Devil followed by an Entry of 12 Devils. Chorus. Let us laugh, let us laugh, let us laugh at our Woes; The Wretch that is damned hath nothing to lose. The Scene changes to a Prospect taken from the middle of the Thames; one side of it begins at York-Stairs, thence to White-hall, and the Mill-Bank, etc. The other from the Saw-Mill, thence to the Bishop's Palace, and on as far as can be seen in a clear Day. Enter Augusta; She has a Snake in her Bosom, hanging down. Aug. O Jealousy, Thou raging ill, Why hast thou found a Room in Lovers Hearts, Afflicting what thou canst not kill, And Poisoning Love himself, with his own Darts? I find my Albion's Heart is gone, My first offences yet remain, Nor can repentance Love regain; One writ in Sand, alas, in Marble one. I rave, I rave, my Spirits boil Like flames increased and mounting high with pou'ring Oil: Disdain and Love succeed by turns; One freezes me, and t'other burns; It burns. Away soft Love, Thou Foe to rest, Give Hate the full possession of my Breast. Hate is the nobler passion far When Love is ill repaid; For at one blow it ends the War, And Cures the Love-sick Maid. Enter Democracy and Zelota; one represents a Patriot, the other Religion. Dem. LEt not thy generous passion waste its rage, But once again restore our golden Age; Still to weep and to complain, Does but more provoke disdain, Let public good, Inflame thy Blood; With Crowds of Warlike People thou art stored, And heaps of Gold; Reject thy old, And to thy Bed receive another Lord. Zel. Religion shall thy Bonds release, For Heaven can lose, as well as tie all; And when 'tis for the Nation's peace A King is but a King on Trial; When Love is lost, let Marriage end, And leave a Husband for a Friend. Dem. With Jealousy swarming The People are Arming And frights of oppression invade 'em. Zealot. If they fall to relenting, For fear of repenting, Religion shall help to persuade 'em. Aug. No more, no more Temptations use To bend my Will; How hard a task 'tis to refuse A pleasing ill? Dem. Maintain the seeming duty of a Wife, A modest show will jealous Eyes deceive, Affect a fear for hated Albion's Life, And for imaginary Dangers grieve. Zealot. His Foes already stand protected, His Friends by public Fame suspected, Albanius must forsake his Isle: A Plot Contrived in happy hour Bereaves him of his Royal Power, For Heaven to mourn and Hell to smile. The former Scene continues. Enter Albion and Albanius with a Train. THen Zeal and Commonwealth infest My Land again; The fumes of madness that possessed The People's giddy Brain, Once more disturb the Nations rest, And die Rebellion in a deeper Stain. 2. Will they at length awake the sleeping Sword, And force revenge from their offended Lord? How long, ye Gods, how long Can Royal patience bear Th' Insults and wrong Of Madman's jealousies, and causeless fear? 3. I thought their love by mildness might be gained, By Peace I was restored, in Peace I Reigned: But Tumults, Seditions, And haughty Petitions, Are all the effects of a merciful Nature; Forgiving and granting, ere Mortals are wanting, But leads to Rebelling against their Creator. Mercury descends. Merc. With pity jove beholds thy State, But jove is circumscribed by Fate; Th' o'er whelming Tide rowls on so fast, It gains upon this Islands waste: And is opposed too late! too late! Albion. What then must helpless Albion do? Merc. Delude the fury of the Foe, And to preserve Albanius, let him go; For 'tis decreed, Thy Land must bleed, For Crimes not thine, by wrathful jove; A Sacred Flood of Royal Blood, Cries Vengeance, Vengeance loud above. Mercury ascends. Albion. Shall I, t' assuage Their Brutal rage, The Regal stem destroy; Or must I lose, (To please my Foes,) My sole remaining joy? Ye God's what worse, What greater Curse, Can all your Wrath employ? Alban. Oh Albion! hear the Gods and me! Well, am I lost in saving Thee. Not exile or danger can fright a brave Spirit With Innocence guarded, With Virtue rewarded; I make of my sufferings a Merit. Albion. Since then the Gods, and Thou wilt have it so; Go: (can I live once more to bid Thee?) go, Where thy Misfortunes call Thee and thy Fate: Go, guiltless Victim of a guilty State, In War my Champion to defend, In peaceful Hours, when Souls unbend, My Brother, and what's more my Friend! Born where the Foamy Billows roar, On Seas less Dangerous than the Shoar: Go, where the Gods thy Refuge have assigned: Go from my sight; but never from my Mind. Alban. Whatever Hospitable ground shall be for me, unhappy Exile, found, Till Heaven vouchsafe to smile; What Land so e'er, Tho' none so dear, As this ungrateful Isle; O think! O think! no distance can remove My vowed Allegiance, and my Loyal Love. Albion. and Alban. The Rosy fingered Morn appears, And from and her Mantle shakes her Tears, In promise of a glorious Day: The Sun, returning, Mortals cheers, And drives the Rising Mists away, In promise of a glorious Day. [Ritornelle. The farther part of the Heaven opens and discovers a Machine; as it moves forwards the Clouds which are before it divide, and show the Person of Apollo, holding the Reins in his hand. As they fall lower, the Horses appear with the Rays and a great glory about Apollo. Apoll. ALL Hail ye Royal pair! The God's peculiar care: Fear not the malice of your Foes; Their Dark designing And Combining, Time and truth shall once expose: Fear not the malice of your Foes. 2. My sacred Oracles assure, The Tempest shall not long endure; But when the Nations Crimes are purged away, Then shall you both in glory shine; Propitious both, and both Divine: In Lustre equal to the God of Day. Apollo goes forward out of sight. Neptune rises out of the Water, and a Train of Rivers, Tritons, and Sea Nymphs attend him. Thames, OLd Father Ocean calls my Tide: Come away, come away, The Barks upon the Billows ride, The Master will not stay; The merry Boson from his side, His Whistle takes to check and chide The lingering Lads delay, And all the Crew aloud has Cried, Come away, come away. See the God of Seas attends Thee, Nymph's Divine, a Beauteous Train: All the calmer gales befriend Thee In thy passage o'er the Main: Every Maid her Locks is binding, Every Triton's Horn is winding, Welcome to the watery Plain. Chacon. Two Nymphs and Triton Sing. YE Nymphs, the Charge is Royal, Which you must convey; Your Hearts and Hands employ all, Hasten to obey; When Earth is grown disloyal, Show there's Honour in the Sea. The Chacon continues. The Chorus of Nymphs and Tritons repeat the same Verses. The Chacon continues. Two Nymphs and Tritons. Sports and Pleasures shall attend you Through all the Watery Plains, Where Neptune Reigns: Venus ready to defend you, And her Nymphs to ease your Pains, No storm shall offend you, Passing the Main; Nor Billow threat in vain, So Sacred a Train, Till the Gods that defend you, Restore you again. The Chacon continues. The Chorus repeat the same Verses, Sports and Pleasure. etc. The Chacon continues. The two Nymphs and Triton Sing. See at your blessed returning Rage disappears; The Vvidowed Isle in Mourning Dries up her Tears, With Flowers the Meads adorning, Pleasure appears, And love dispels the Nations causeless fears. The Chacon continues. The Chorus of Nymphs and Triton repeat the same Verses, See at your blessed returning, etc. The Chacon continues. Then the Chorus repeat, See the God of Seas, etc. And this Chorus concludes the Act. ACT. III. The Scene is a view of Dover, taken from the Sea: a row of Cliffs fill up each side of the Stage, and the Sea the middle of it, which runs into the Peer: beyond the Peer, is the Town of Dover: on each side of the Town, is seen a very high Hill; on one of which is the Castle of Dover; on the other, the great Stone which they call the Devils drop. Behind the Town several Hills are seen at a great distance which finish the view. Enter Albion bareheaded: Acacia or Innocence with him. Albion. BEhold ye Powers! from Whom I own A Birth immortal, and a Throne: See a Sacred King uncrowned, See your Offspring, Albion, bound: The gifts you gave with lavish hand, Are all bestowed in vain: Extended Empire on the Land, Unbounded o'er the Main. Acacia. Empire o'er the Land and Main, Heaven that gave can take again; But a mind that's truly brave, Stands despising, Storms arising, And can ne'er be made a Slave. Albion. Unhelpt I am, who pitied the distressed, And none oppressing, am by all oppressed; Betrayed, forsaken, and of hope bereft: Acacia. Yet still the Gods and Innocence are left. Albion. Ah! what canst thou avail, Against Rebellion armed with zeal, And faced with public good? O Monarch's see Your Fate in me! To rule by Love, To shed no Blood, May be extolled above; But here below, Let Princes know 'Tis fatal to be good. Chorus of both. To rule by Love etc. Albion. But see! what prodigies are these? Acacia. Your Father Neptune from the Seas, Has Nereids and blue Triton's scent, To charm your discontent. Nereids rise out of the Sea and Sing, Triton's dance. FRom the low Palace of old Father Ocean, come we in pity your cares to deplore: Sea-spouting Dolphins are tamed for our motion, Moony Tides swelling to roll us ashore, 2. Every Nymph of the flood, her Tresses rending, Throws of her Armlet of Pearl in the Main; Neptune in anguish his Charge unattended, Vessels are foundering, and Vows are in vain. Enter Tyranny, Democracy, represented by Men, attended by Asebia, Zelota, Women. Tyrant. HA, ha, 'tis what so long I wished and vowed, Our Plots and delusions, Have wrought such confusions, That the Monarch's a Slave to the Crowd. Democ. A Design we somented, Tyr. By Hell it was new! Dem. A false Plot invented, Tyr. To cover a true. Democ. First with promised faith we flattered, Tyr. Then jealousies and fears we scattered. Asebia. We never valued right and wrong, But as they served our cause; Zealot. Our Business was to please the throng, And Court their wild applause: Asebia. For this we bribed the Lawyer's Tongue, And then destroyed the Law's. Chor. For this, etc. Tyrant. To make him safe, we made his Friends our Prey; Dem. To make him great we scorned his Royal sway, Tyrant. And to confirm his Crown, we took his Heir away. Dem. T' increase his store, We kept him poor: Tyrant. And when to wants we had betrayed him, To keep him low, Pronounced a Foe, Who e'er presumed to aid him. Asebia. But you forget the noblest part, And Masterpiece of all your Art, You told him he was sick at Heart. Zealot. And when you could not work belief In Albion of th' imagined grief; Your perjured vouchers in a Breath, Made Oath that he was sick to Death; And then five hundred Quacks of skill Resolved 'twas fit he should be ill. Asebia. Now heigh for a Commonwealth, We merrily Drink and Sing, 'Tis to the Nations Health, For every Man's a King. Zealot. Then let the Masque begin, The Saints advance, To fill the Dance, And the Property Boys come in. The Boys in White begin a Fantastic Dance. Chor. Let the Saints ascend the Throne. Dem. Saints have Wives, and Wives have Preachers, Guifted men, and able Teachers; These to get, and those to own; Chor. Let the Saints ascend the Throne. Asebia. Freedom is a bait alluring; Them betraying, us securing, While to Sovereign power we foar. Zelota. Old delusions new repeated, Shows 'em born but to be cheated, As their Fathers were before. Six Sectaries begin a formal affected Dance, the two gravest whisper the other Four, and draw 'em into the Plot: They pull out and deliver Libels to 'em, which they receive. Democr. SEE Friendless Albion there alone, Without Defence But Innocence; Albanius now is gone. Tyrant. Say then, What must be done? Dem. The Gods have put him in our hand. Zelota. He must be slain! Tyrant. But who shall then Command? Dem. The People: for the right returns to those, Who did the trust impose. Tyrant. 'Tis fit another Sun should rise, To cheer the World, and light the Skies. Dem. But when the Sun, His race has run, And neither cheers the World, nor lights the Skies; 'Tis fit a Commonwealth of Stars should rise. Asebia. Each noble vice, Shall bear a Price, And Virtue shall a drug become: An empty Name Was all her Fame, But now she shall be Dumb. Zelota. If open Vice be what you drive at, A Name so broad we'll ne'er connive at. Saints love Vice, but more refin'dly, Keep her close, and use her kindly. Tyrant. Fall on. Dem. Fall on: Ere Albion's death we'll try, If one or many shall his room supply. The white Boys dance about the Saints: The Saints draw out the Association, and offer it to 'em: They refuse it and quarrel about it: Then the white Boys and Saints fall into a confused Dance, imitating fight: The white Boys at the end of the Dance, being driven out by the Sectaries with Protestant Flails. Albion. SEE the Gods my cause descending; When all humane help was passed! Acacia. Factions mutually contending, By each other fall at last. Albion. But is not yonder Proteus Cave, Below that steep, Which rising Billows brave? Acacia. It is: And in it lies the God asleep: And snorting by, We may descry, The Monsters of the deep. Albion. He knows the past, And can resolve the future too. Acacia. 'Tis true! But hold him fast, For he can change his hue. The Cave of Proteus rises out of the Sea, it consists of several Arches of Rock work, adorned with mother of Pearl, Coral, and abundance of Shells of various kinds: Through the Arches is seen the Sea, and parts of Dover Peer: In the middle of the Cave is Proteus a sleep on a Rock adorned with Shells, etc. Like the Cave. Albion and Acacia, seize on him, and while a Symphony is playing, he sinks as they are bringing him forward, and changes himself into a Lion, a Crocodile, a Dragon, and then to his own shape again: He comes toward the front of the Stage, and Sings. Symphony. Proteus. ALbion, loved of Gods and Men, Prince of Peace too mildly Reigning, Cease thy sorrow and complaining; Thou shalt be restored again: Albion, loved of Gods and Men. 2. Still thou art the care of Heaven, In thy Youth to Exile driven: Heaven thy ruin then prevented, Till the guilty Land repented: In thy Age, when none could aid Thee, Foes conspired, and Friends betrayed Thee; To the brink of danger driven, Still thou art the Care of Heaven. Albion. To whom shall I my preservation owe? Proteus. Ask me no more! for 'tis by Neptune's Foe. Proteus' descends. Democracy and Zelota return with their Faction. Democ. Our seeming Friends, who joined alone, To pull down one, and build another Throne, Are all dispersed and gone: We brave republic Souls remain. Zealot. And 'tis by us that Albion must be Slain: Say, whom shall we employ The Tyrant to destroy? Democ. That Archer is by Fate designed, With one Eye clear, and t'other blind. Zelota. He seems inspired to do't. Omnes. Shoot Holy Cyclops, shoot. The one Eyed Archer advances, the rest follow: A fire arises betwixt them and Albion. [Ritornel. Democ. Lo! Heaven and Earth combine, To blast our bold design. What Miracles are shown? Nature's alarmed, And Fires are armed, To guard the Sacred Throne. Zelota. What help, when jarring Elements conspire To punish our audacious Crimes. Retreat betimes, To shun th' avenging Fire. Chor. To shun the avenging Fire. [Ritor. As they are going back a Fire arises from behind: They all sink together. Albion. Let our tuneful accents upwards move, Till they reach the vaulted Arch of those above; Let us adore 'em; Let us fall before 'em: Acacia. Kings they made, and Kings they love. When they protect a rightful Monarch's Reign, The Gods in Heaven, the Gods on Earth maintain. Both. When they protect, etc. Albion. But see what glories gild the main. Acacia. Bright Venus brings Albanius back again, With all the loves and graces in her train. A Machine rises out of the Sea: It opens and discovers Venus, and Albanius sitting in a great Scallop-shell, richly adorned: Venus is attended by the Loves and Graces, Albanius by Hero's: The Shell is drawn by Dolphins: It moves forward, while a Symphony of Fluts-Doux, etc. is playing till it Lands 'em on the Stage, and then it closes and sinks. Venus Sings. ALbion, Hail; The Gods present Thee, All the richest of their Treasures, Peace and Pleasures. To content Thee, Dancing their eternal measures. Graces and Loves, Dance an Entry. Venus. But above all humane blessing; Take a Warlike Loyal Brother, Never Prince had such another: Conduct, Courage, truth expressing, All Heroic worth possessing. Chor. of all. But above all, etc. Here the Hero's Dance is performed. [Ritor. Whilst a Symphony is playing; a very large, and a very glorious Machine descends: The figure of it Oval, all the Clouds shining with Gold, abundance of Angels and Cherubins flying about 'em, and playing in 'em; in the midst of it sits Apollo on a Throne of Gold: he comes from the Machine to Albion. Phoeb. From Jove's Imperial Court, Where all the God's resort; In awful Council met, Surprising news I bear: Albion the Great, Must change his Seat, For he's adopted there. Ven. What Stars above shall we displace? Where shall he fill a Room Divine? Nept. Descended from the Sea God's Race, Let him by my Orion shine. Phoeb. No, Not by that tempestuous sign: Betwixt the Balance and the Maid, The Just, August, And peaceful shade, Shall shine in Heaven with Beams displayed, While great Albanius is on Earth obeyed: Ven. Albanius Lord of Land and Main, Shall with fraternal virtues Reign; And add his own, To fill the Throne; Adored and feared, and loved no less: In War Victorious, mild in Peace, The joy of men, and Jove's increase. Acacia. O Thou! Who mount'st th' AEthereal Throne, Be kind and happy to thy own; Now Albion is come, The People of the Sky, Run gazing and Cry, Make Room, make Room, Make room for our new Deity. Here Albion mounts the Machine, which moves upward slowly. A full Chorus of all that Acacia sung. Ven. Behold what Triumphs are prepared to grace Thy glorious Race, Where Love and Honour claim an equal place; Already are they fixed by Fate, And only ripening Ages wait. The Scene changes to a walk of very high Trees: At the end of the Walk is a view of that part of Windsor, which faces Eton: In the midst of it is a row of small Trees, which lead to the Castle-hill: In the first Scene, part of the Town and part of the Hill: In the next the Terrace Walk, the King's Lodgings, and the upper part of St. George's Chapel, than the Keep; and lastly, that part of the Castle, beyond the Keep. In the Air is a Vision of the Honours of the Garter; the Knights in Procession, and the King under a Canopy: Beyond this, the upper end of St. George's Hall. Fame rises out of the middle of the Stage, standing on a Globe; on which is the Arms of England: The Globe rests on a Pedestal: On the Front of the Pedestal is drawn a Man with a long, lean, pale Face, with Fiend's Wings, and Snakes twisted round his Body: He is encompassed by several Fanatical Rebellious Heads, who suck poison from him, which runs out of a Tap in his Side. Fame. REnown, assume thy Trumpet! From Pole to Pole resounding: Great Albion's Name; Great Albion's Name shall be The Theme of Fame, shall be great Albion's Name, Great Albion's Name, Great Albion's Name. Record the Garters glory: A Badge for Hero's, and for Kings to bear: For Kings to bear! And swell th' Immortal Story, With Songs of Gods, and fit for Gods to hear; And swell th' Immortal Story, With Songs of Gods, and fit for Gods to hear; For Gods to hear. A full Chorus of all the Voices and Instruments: Trumpets and Ho-Boys make Returnelloes of all Fame sings; and Twenty four Dancers join all the time in a Chorus, and Dance to the end of the Opera. FINIS. Advertisement. THe History of the League, Written in French by Monsieur Maimbourg. Englished upon His majesty's Command, by Mr. Dryden. Miscellany Poems in Two Parts; containing new Translations of Virgil's Eccloges. Ovid's Love-Elegies, several parts of Virgil's Eneids, Lucretiùs, Theocritus, Horace, etc. With several Original Poems never before Printed. By the most Eminent Hands: Published by Mr. Dryden. Threnodia Augustalis: A Funeral Pindaric Poem, Sacred to the Happy Memory of King Charles the 2d. By Mr. Dryden. Sold by jacob Tonson, at the Judge's Head in Chancery-Lane, near Fleetstreet.