THE triumph OF beauty. As it was personated by some young Gentlemen, for whom it was intended, at a private Recreation. By JAMES SHIRLEY. LONDON, Printed for Humphrey Moseley, and are to be sold at his shop, at the sign of the Prince's arms in St Paul's Churchyard. MDCXLVI. THE Triumph of Beauty. Enter Bottle, Crab, Clout, toadstool, Shrub, Scrip, Hobbinoll, shepherds: they overtake, and hang upon Bottle, and cry: Omnes. ABottle, a Bottle! Bo. I am out of wind. So, so, are we all here? good men and true stand together, and hear your charge. Hum, hum. Hob. Bottle has something in him. I knew him of a little one. Scr. A very sucking Bottle. Bot. Peace Scrip and Hobbinoll, toadstool draw a little nearer,— you all know— Crab. What do you know? Bot. Silence neighbour Crab,— which of you all is so wise, as to know what I would say now? why there's it, & yet you will be prating ignorant Puppies and a man should knock your brains out— You all know, I say— Cra. I say again, we know not. Bottle you forget yourself, you called us all ignorant Puppies. But now, and now again you say we all know.— Bot. — The Prince excuse me, you all know Paris the Prince of Troy. Cr. We know him now, but it was a mystery for many years. Ho. Our young Lord and Master? Bo. Why very good then, and yet I must be corrupted? No, no, Bottle is a dry coxcomb, an empty fool. Bye te'e; make the Prince merry yourselves. Scr. Nay Bottle, sweet Bottle, sweet Bottle; you will never leave this peevish humour Crabbe; come, he is sorry. Cra. Well, I am sorry; but will you not give a man leave to speak? Bo. Speak? yes, but than you must not talk and bolt such peremptory questions, when I miscall you for your own good. What is't to me, and the Prince shall take a convenient twig, or drown himself in one of his melancholy fits: I can live, when you have all betaken yourselves to hemp, I can. Only I prefer the public good before all the world, and and the Prince before that, and myself before the Prince, and my wife before myself, and your wife neighbour before her: I know what's what. But what's all this? unless we be reconciled and perfectly divided among ourselves. I know you all love me. Scr. I love Bottle with my heart. Bo. But the Prince is another manner of man, though I say't, and every day falls away with a humour of melancholy; if we shall join our Panniers, to make him merry with some rare and pleasant device— why; your old friend and Bottle, and so forth. Now let every man speak his opinion freely, as his own want of discretion shall direct him. Ho. Some new device? there be a thousand new devices, and a man could but remember one on 'em. Sc. Stay some strange shapes Bottle.— Silence, what do you think and we should all be Fishes? Bo. He says well for silence, this must consist of Mutes. Scr. I can play a Mute rarely. Crab. You the Mute? as if nobody could speak but you: you the Mute? Ho. And the river hard by, will serve us rarely to act in. Scr. And when we dance under water, no can see our footing. And you love me, let me be a Whale: oh I can foot it curiously; and I can drink like a Fish. Bo. No. I do not like these Water-works. I was in a fair election to be drowned at the last sheep-shearing; and the Cramp is a thing to be considered. No Water-works. Hob. What do you say to Birds: a Device of Birds? Bo. Birds? You'll be an owl too. Hob. I have been taken for one in a tree a hundred times. He counterfeits the voice of an owl. Bot. No, I have thought of a conceit— d'ye hear? we scorn fishes, they are dull, phlegmatic things, and your Birds at best are melancholy matters. What do you think of— Hob. Beasts then: let us all be Beasts Bottle. Bot. Be all Asses will you not? Bou'y tee again. Play the fools yourselves, do, and see how the Prince will like it, if Bottle be out. I am a puppy, I? no, no. Scr. Nay, nay, honest Bottle: did you not bid every man speak according to his discretion? Bot. I grant you; but is there discretion in a Beast? Let us all play the Beasts quotha? Oh, I could be as musty as the Prince now; but I am of too sweet a nature to fly out: which makes you presume. Well, now or never, will you be ruled yet? Hob. Now, and never too, Bottle? Omnes. A Bottle, a Bottle. Silence, break Silence. Bot. Why then, I'll make you all Princes or Lords, or something else that shall be little better: and because we are all shepherds, we'll do a thing proper to our callings. Omn. That, that Bottle. Bot. What do you say? if we act the tragedy of the golden Fleece? Cra. How? a Tragedy to make the Prince merry? Bot. There's the conceit: if he do not laugh at every man of us, I'll lose my part of the next possit, neighbour. Scr. He cannot choose. Bot. You all remember the story of Jason, that sailed to Colchos, with Hercules, and a Company of Blades, where he killed the Brazen-footed Bulls, and the fiery Dragons. Bot. Let me see, how many Actors are we?— The number will serve, well let me see, first, who shall do Hercules in the lion's belly? Hob. Belly? Bot. Why in the lion's skin, 'tis all one. Shr. I'll do Hercules. Hob. Let Shrub do Hercules, he has played afore. Shr. I have a Club already, and I know where a terrible Lion is, if any man will but flay off his skin for me: Let me alone. He struts and speaks small. Omn. A Shrub a Hercules. Bot. Who shall do Lady Medea the King's daughter, that fell in love with Jason, and bewitched the Dragon? Toad. I'll do the Lady, and the King's daughter, and for a Witch I am right by the mother's side. [ He speaks big.] Cra. His very voice will conjure. Toad. Who plays Jason my sweetheart? Hob. Is Jason a man or a woman? Bot. Jason is a King's son, and captain of a ship called Argo. Crab. For a Prince or an Emperor, I know where a choice might be made. But I have no heart to the captain. Bot. Your reason neighbour Crab.. Crab. I know not which limb I can best spare, and Carpenters makes but scurvy legs. At football, or fisticuffs, I fear no Prince under the Moon. Bot. You fight against no but Bulls, and fiery Dragons. Cra. Do I not? Bot. And they must be all fast asleep when you kill 'em; Nay, Hercules himself must take your part too. Crab. Nay then let me alone. Bot. Now my Masters, who shall do the Dragon? Scr. Is it a he, or a she Dragon? Bot. No matter which. Scrip. What do you think of my wife? she'll do't. She does the Dragon at home, 'twod do a man's heart good to be out of the house; no is able to endure her; she is a flying Dragon, and will fit you rarely— Bot. We won't be troubled with women; and you'll do't yourself; well and good. Scr. Rather than the play shall not go forward my wife shall teach me my part. Hob. Do you mean I shall have no part? Shall Hobbinoll play nothing? Clout has no part neither. Bot. You shall be Medea's Brother, Absirtus, a little child. Hob. I shall be too tall. Bot. You must be cut a pieces, and have your limbs thrown about the waves. Crab. And when your legs, and your head are cut off, you will be no bigger than a child: we'll take a course to make you little enough. And Clout, do you see? you shall be the ship, hung all round about with Flags, and fine things, we cannot come to Colchos without you. Clout. Shall I play the Ship? let me alone to carry my body swimming. Crab. Have a care you do not leak before the Prince; and be sure to carry a good wind in your Poop-Clout. But stay, all this while, who shall do the golden Fleece? Bottle, you forget that? Bot. The chief part in the Play, and one that must wear the best clothes too. Crab. Why let some body else do Jason, and I'll do the golden Fleece. Scr. Or I. Hob. Or I. To. Or any— Or what if we left out the golden Fleece? Bot. What if you left out the play? the golden Fleece out? why 'tis the name, and the only rich thing in the Play. Scr. Why then leave out the Ship. Cl. Yes, and go by land to Colchos. May not somebody do two parts. Let Scrip do the Dragon and the King's daughter. Cr. Or leave out the little boy; he has but a small part. Hob. I'll be cut in pieces a hundred times first, leave out Hercules and you will, or Jason: if I do not fit you Crab.. Shr. Why Hercules, left out, goodman Hobbinoll? Toad. No mutiny Shrub, neighbour Crab.. Shrub strikes Hob: they all fight. Bot. So so, we shall have a Tragedy indeed; have a care of the King's daughter among you. Hold, they'll tear Clout all to pieces, Have a care of the Ship. Cr. Sink or swim, I care not. Clout. Oh my Ribs! Bot. He that gives the next blow shall lose his share, if he be not turned out of the Company. What my Masters, you shall not fall out about this golden Fleece: I kept that part for myself I warrant you; you shall not fall out about sharing: I am resolved the golden Fleece is mine, as I am the best Actor, and Master of the Company. Clout. Bottle indeed had no part before: So, so, than we are all friends, and fitted. Hob. When shall we have out parts? oh Bottle how I thirst! when our parts? Bot. Part? why you must do it instantly, the Prince stays for't. Shr. How? the Lion is to be killed, whose skin I must wear when I play Hercules. Clout. Do you think, I can do the ship, and have not half my ●acklings about me? Scrip. And I have not practised to spit fire yet. Bot. I knew what a company of sots you would be. You'll be Hercules, and you'll be a Whale, and you'll be a Ship, and you'll be a Dragon, and you will be a Lady. You Actors? you Animals, to undertake a Play, and ask when you shall have your parts; Oh I am ashamed! but there is no remedy, with such dull capacities: do you remember the antic Dance, I taught you last? that shall serve for this time. The Prince Keeps his old walk: be sure to be within reach of my voice, when I call you. Get behind the trees; I spy him. Exit. Enter Paris. Par. What is it to be sprung of Kingly race, Or have the blood of Priam in my veins, Yet dare not call him Father? he was cruel, Thus for a dream to banish me his sight, And my dear mother's arms. Bot. within. So ho, ho, ho. Par. This busy shepherd will afflict me still With his unseasonable mirth; I am Only in love with Melancholy; Pleasures Are tedious to my soul; Must I be ever Confined to woods? are Beasts or men more wild Than they, companions for a Prince? are these Fit ornaments of State? is this a palace? Bot. within. So ho, ho, ho. Par. Again? would I could hide me from the world; I will go seek my dwelling in some rock Where never day shall be acquainted with me; The Sun whose beams cheer all the world beside, Shines like a Comet o'er my head. Enter Bottle. Bot. So ho, ho, ho. I thought we had lost you: why how now? still in this humour? will your highness never be a Changeling? d'ye hear Sir; I met your your Nurse at the bottom of the Hill. Par. What Nurse? Bot. The charitable bear that gave you suck; for though you be a Prince borne, your Parents would not be at the charge to bring you up at Court; Mistress Ursula, and I, have have been the best friends to your blood royal. Par. I prithee leave me. Bot. Leave my young Prince in a wood? A word to the wise— are not you in love? Par. In love? with what? Bot. Nay, I do not know what wild beast hath entangled you: but I have a shrewd suspicion; for thus simply did I look by all report, when I was in love too, it had almost undone me, for it infected me with poetry; and I grew witty to the admiration of all the owls in Ida. You shall hear my Verses. Heigh-ho, what shall a shepherd do, That is love, and cannot woe? By sad experience now I find, That Love is dumb as well as blind. Her hair is bright, her forehead high, Then am I taken with her eye: Her cheeks I must commend for gay, But then her nose hangs in my way. Her lips I like, but than steps in Her white and pretty dimpled chin. But then her neck I do behold, Fit to be hanged in chains of gold. Her breast is soft as any down, Beneath which lies her maiden-town, So strong and fortified within, There is no hope to take it in. And so forth. But I thank my dutiful father, he cured me with a flail, and most learnedly threshed blind Cupid out of my sides. I had been no Bottle of this world else. Par. If thou dost love me, do not interrupt me, I would be private. Bot. I would be loath to be unmannerly, and hinder a Princely recreation: but I see no temptations, nothing in the likeness of a petticoat. What would you be private for? Par. I have some serious thoughts to examine, if thou wilt use thy diligence to keep off those that rudely would disturb my present retirement: trust me, I'll reward thy care with my best weather. Bottle. Weather? You are wise; do you think, Sir, I have so little honesty, to be Sir Pandarus to your Melancholy. Illo, ho.— Par. What, art thou mad? Bot. You are little better: if you can get their consent. Par. Whose consent? Bot. Hobinoll, Crab, toadstool,— Illo ho, boys. Some friends of yours, that sent me to hunt out your highness, your humble Subjects and playfellows, that have a mind to be merry.— To tell you true, we have taken notice of your sullen disposition; and therefore half a dozen, have penned a dance to revile your spirits. Simple as I appear, my head had a hand in it. If you do hear an Oration over and above, by way of a preparative to the physic we intend, so. I name no: all the shepherd's wit is not a woolgathering. Therefore stir not my dear Prince, as you will answer the contempt of our authority at your peril. Exit. Par. What a strange rudeness am I forced to obey? Unhappy Parish! thy ungentle stars, Not only have decreed thy cruel Exile, From those delights thy blood and birth should challenge, But by their fatal doom vouchsafe thee not To enjoy a quiet misery. Bag pipes are heard. Enter Bottle. Bot. Hold thou unlearned bagpipe: for now I am to act a Speech unto the son of Priam. Hum, hum. Most noble Prince! You must not lie down yet. Most noble Prince! behold thy Bottle here, Thy well-beloved Bottle does appear, With many more that shall be seen hereafter, To tickle thy kind spleen into a laughter: With fear and wit, or without fear and wit, We come, as it becomes, to frisk a bit, In a ridiculous round: and therefore lie Thee down and laugh, Now you may lie down, so. Thee down and laugh, for we do mean, whereby It may be said in a well-written dance To show thee sport, our heels for to advance. Which is an excellent thing. Banish thy fears, Oh lovely Prince, bred up amongst the bears, And bear with us. The shepherds enter, and dance. On the sudden other music is heard; and Mercury descending; the shepherds run in. Par. What mist doth dwell about my eyes? I feel Their heavy curtains fall; welcome soft sleep, The cure of all unrest. help to repair The broken silence of my brain, distil Thy balm into my wounded thoughts; oh see I do obey, and throw my cares on thee. Dormit. A Song. Cease warring thoughts, and let his brain No more discord entertain, But be smooth and calm again. Ye crystal Rivers that are nigh, As your streams are passing by, Teach your murmurs harmony. Ye winds that wait upon the spring, And perfumes to flowers do bring: Let your amorous whispers here Breath soft music to his ear. Ye warbling Nightingales repair From every wood, to charm this air, And with the wonders of your breast, Each striving to excel the rest. When it is time to wake him, close your parts, And drop down from the trees with broken hearts Mer. Young Priam's son, and darling of the gods, I Mercury, winged Messenger of Jove, By his command have lest his spangled Court, And through the silver orbs descend to tell thee, That he hath chosen thee to be the Judge Between three Deities, which shall best deserve This golden Ball: Juno his Queen of heaven, Pallas the goddess of fair Arts, and arms, And Cytherea, Queen of Love and beauty. Shake off thy clouds of sleep, and freed from all Distractions, prepare to hear them plead Their glories here. Imperial Juno drawn Be her proud Birds, is stooping from her Coach. The jove-born maid already hath dismounted The Paphian Queen with her young Archer drawn By Swans more white than Rodopcian snow, Is now descending from her Chariot, And on the green Plush of this Ida hill They all move to thee with celestial pace. Parish awake, Jove doth his Herald call, To the most worthy give this golden Ball. Ascendit. Par. What have I seen? what strange But heavenly dream hath Paris had: He spies the Ball. Yet this presents more than an empty shadow, I'm sure it grew not here; there are no trees That bear such fruit in Ida; such as these Grew in the Orchard of Hesperides, And ever guarded by a watchful Dragon. Then Jove hath gathered it and sent it me. What's here inscribed? This to the best deserver! I am not then deluded; it is fit I should observe with all obedience Great Jove's command. Soft music. What sacred change is this? Such harmony must needs speak the approach Of the celestial powers. Song of Juno within. Jove sent thee Paris; what is mine, be safely bold; And for that trifle I resign a wreath of gold. Obey then and command, thou canst not be Just to thyself, if not to me. Pallas. Twice happy in thy choice: be wise, ere thou dispense This Treasure, give thy Reason eyes, and blind thy sense, Thus arms and Arts thy humble name shall raise, Alike to wreaths of oaks and bays. Venus. She, whom all suppliants else implore is here made thine, And will for this a gift restore, no less divine. The best of pleasures thus enjoy, and try, Where Beantie Courts who can deny. Chorus. Examine Princely shepherd here the Offerings which we send thee, How for that narrow golden sphere, Wealth, Fame and love attend thee. And judge by this, how large these honours be, None to each other yield, yet all to thee. Juno, Pallas, and Venus at several places appea Juno attended by a King and a Senator. Pallas by a soldier, and a Philosopher. Venus by Hymen and Cupid. They dance: At the close, all remove, but the three goddesses. Parish kneels. Juno. Put off thy wonder Paris, and collect Thy scattered senses in our Temples, we Expect those hummble adorations And sacrifice from mortals, that do bring Petitions to our Altars. We are come Juno, Minerva, and the seaborn Queen, From our bright palaces, to sue to thee: ( Think it no stain to our celestial nature) That golden Ball, sent thee by Jove, to be Her prize, whose merits can obtain it from Thy equal sentence of us three, hath brought Our competition hither; be just Paris, And live for ever happy. Par. How shall Paris, Whose years are green, & too unripe for judgement, Decide the worth of three such Deities. Which not a counsel of the gods themselves, Hath wisdom to determine? Juno. We will plead Our own deserts before thee, to which give Thy fixed attention, and hear Juno first Court thy election. Par. Humbly I attend. Juno. I'll not insist, that I am with the vote Of all the gods first both in place and title: Th' Olympian Empress, Jove's wife and sister, These are but names and shadows of my greatness, And which do rather fright, than win from mortals, Whose sense must let in objects to the soul: Know Paris, with that sceptre I control, Not skies alone, but all this under world: Kingdoms and Crowns are mine, all wealth contained In Neptune's watery circle, or the veins Of earth as subject to my gift and largesse. Min. With favour of great Juno's Empire, She that disposeth golden Mines at pleasure, ( 'Tis strange) should hold contention for a Ball. Juno. I do, and will reward it with more Treasure Than his ambition knows how to ask: Not that I prize that poor and narrow globe, But that I hate, Pallas should be competitor, Or any with Saturnia; give it me, And I will furnish thee with the same mettle, To build thyself a palace, about which, The yellow Tagus, and Iberus streams, Asian Pactolus, and the Indian Ganges, Shall flow with golden sands: let thy Birth Paris, Put thee in mind what 'tis to be a Monarch. I will adorn thy Temples with a wreath, Whose flame shall dim bright Ariadne's crown, Embellished with the glorious Lamps of heaven: Name but the bounds and limits of thy Empire; Asia shall bow, and all her stubborn Princes, Like petty homagers shall kneel before thee, And lay their shining sceptres at thy feet; Europe shall prostrate all her Provinces, And glory in her servitude, incline To me, and India shall send thee pearls, As tribute to bestow upon thy Queens; The precious ermines shall without pursuit Present thee with her skins: and the cold climes Bring home rich furs, and Sables to adorn thee. The servile rooms within thy palace, shall Have Babylonian hangings, and rich shapes, Wrought by the needle of Semiramis. The fish shall bring thee purple to the shore. Panchaia send thee Spice, and wealthy gums, Such as the Assyrian Bird doth fill her nest with, When she prepares for sacrifice. The spoils Of silkworms shall make proud thy meanest grooms. What shall I say, present that Ball to me, And in exchange I'll give the world to thee. Pa. Juno hath said; and were not Pallas here, Might tempt thee Paris to forget thyself: Her promises are vast, and full of State, But weighed with what Minerva can bestow, They shrink to air, and thou Ixion-like, Embracing Juno dost but grasp a cloud. Nay, if thou dost examine well her gifts, How 'ere their flattering sound affect thy ear, Or their possession court thy eye with show, And specious glories, thou shalt find within, They have disguised a poison, that doth lurk To infect thy mind, and kill with their corruption Thy intellectual Beauties, by soft ease A sordid avarice, coward thoughts, and all The train of Lust and Lethargies that hang Upon a Masculine soul; where thy acceptance Of what is in my power, shall make thee scorn These things of care and golden slavery, That fool and flinty consciences adore, And grasped, like thieving sands steal through our fingers. I'll give thee wisdom Paris, in which name I comprehend all harmony of earth, And heaven, and make thee kinsman to the gods. Nature shall open her dark bosom to thee, And give thee leave to rifle all her wonders: The Virgin Arts shall court thee to be called Their Oracle, and whatsoever the extent Of that wide orb contains, whose bounds shut up The universal creature, shall unveil Their beauties, and be proud to enrich thy knowledge. Ven. Juno and Pallas promise gallantly. Pa. Yet this concludes not, what Minerva can Bestow upon her Paris; if the Arts Inflame thee not, or do appear less active, And glorious to meet thy fierce Ambition. Fame shall want breath to tell the world what triumphs Shall crown thy name in war, if Pallas arm Thy breast with courage, which my bounty throws To thy acceptance; if that Ball be mine, I'll give thee a spirit Trojan, and such conquests By thy own valour, as at once shall fright, And please the hearers faith: Nations shall tremble To mention thy great Acts, whose memory Shall outlive all Egyptian Pyramids, And bloom when Winters have defaced the world, And feeble time shall droop and halt with age: Trophies shall fall in duty to thy sword, And Captive Princes wait upon thy Chariot. Some shall build Statues, others invent games, Some Temples to thy name, while holy Priests And Virgin Quires shall make it their Religion, To pay thee songs, and crown thy images With ever-springing Garlands. Be wife, Paris, Resolve to make that golden Circle mine, Both Arts and arms shall make their glories thine. Ven. What words? what argument to move thee Paris Is left for Cytherea? Mighty Juno Woes thy ambition with State and kingdoms, Courting thy Genius in a shower of gold: Pallas not only will inspire thy soul, With valour, on which victory shall wait, And crown thy head with her immortal laurels, But make thee rich in Science, and uncloud The sacred beauties of all Art and Nature. These bounties seem to have left Venus nothing; But when my power and gifts come to the balance, Paris shall see their glories, thin and light, Fly into air: I am the Queen of love: Think but how poor are Pallas victories, When I have made her greatest soldiers tame, Forced 'em look pale, and tremble, sigh and weep, Ready to give their ghost up at a frown, And think my smile or kiss their only heaven. Her Oracles of wisdom and Philosophy Have been my fools, & all their strength of learning, But able to express great Loves supremacy, And my dominions boundless. What do I Boast the extent of my command on earth? When under my Diviner ensigns march Etherial Troops? my power confessed by Jove To sway in heaven: and what are all the treasures And gifts of Juno, kingdoms piled on kingdoms? Which at the best but multiply thy cares To keep, if Love be not propitious to thee? Who can discharge a thousand stings upon Thy heart, and make it prisoner when I please. Juno. The goddess of vexation we allow thee. Ven. But these are not the motives to incline Thy thoughts young Prince to me; thus fear, not love Should plead for me, although the torments are High and consuming, where I fix displeasure, The joys I pour upon my favourites Shall be my Orators, whose endless charms Are above counter-magick, and shall tie Thy soul in everlasting chains of love. Poets have feigned Elysium after death, Which thou shalt here possess; and all the pleasure Of those blessed shades, they talk of in their songs, Shall spread themselves before thee, which thou shalt Possess as Lord, not Tenant to the Groves. It shall be ever spring, and ever Summer, Where Paris shall inhabit, all rude airs, The killing dews, tempest, and lightning, shall Be strangers to thy walks, which the West wind Shall with their soft and gentle gales perfume. The laurel and the myrtle shall compose Thy Arbours, interwoven with the Rose, And honey-dropping Wood-bine; on the ground The flowers ambitiously shall crowd themselves Into Love-knots, and Coronets, to entangle Thy feet, that they may kiss them, as they tread, And keep them prisoners in their amorous stalks. The Violet shall weep when thou remov'st, And the pale lily deck her innocent cheek With pearls to Court thy stay; the Hyacinth, When thou art passing by her, shall disclose Her Purple bosom to thee, proud to be Saluted by thy eye, and being left, Blush, droop, and wither, like a Love-sick Virgin. Doth Paris thirst? Rivers of Nectar flow In every crystal channel: wouldst thou feed, The trees shall bow under their heavenly fruit, And offer their Ambrosia to thy gathering. Nor shalt thou be alone, a thousand nymphs, Fairer than ever thy eyes gazed upon, Shall wait upon my darling, and with sport Make thy delight immortal: these at last To crown thy joys shall lead thee to a Mistress, Compared to whom, their beauties have no name; In whose least part more wonders shall invite Thy amazed eye▪ than all the Queens of earth Can boast together▪ and this beauty's heaven Will I bestow on Paris, in whose love He shall possess more raptures, than are sands In all the glass of time. Juno Fine airy Blessings; A small Art will distinguish 'twixt us three Who can deserve thee best. Par. I am transported, And first my humble gratitude presented For this, an honour above all, that has A name in story, lent to grace a mortal, And give me patience you diviner natures, If it distract, and fright my weaker counsels. It is not safe to think, what language then Shall have the confidence to express those thoughts That merit to be stifled? I must tremble To be myself, and speak: Yet if I dream not, I am commanded to resign this Ball, Not mine, but hers, of you three best deserving: Is't not a sin to name one best? oh pardon! That I had leave to whisper in the ear Of Jove two minutes. Pal. It was meant by him, You should declare yourself to us. Ven. Be confident, And wisdom guide the sentence. Juno. 'Tis expected, Be therefore bold and wise. Par. I feel new courage Infused; there's something spreads through every part, And chides my timorous youth into resolve Of something that must be. Omn. It must be welcome, We are prepared. Par. Great Juno, I not dare To question your vast power, the world and you Shut all up with one circle, wealth and kingdoms Are able to strike blind with their temptation; The eyes of young ambition, and my birth Had sure those seeds of glory; but my fate Has stifled 'em, and made them so familiar With shades and humble thoughts, I cannot find, My soul now fit for those desires. Jun. Despise My gifts? perish in wants unpitied. Pal. Nay stay, and hear one more concluded Juno. The Ball is not bestowed. Par. 'Tis some unhappiness, I look not with that admiration Upon M●nerva's gifts. Philosophy That teacheth to contemplate heaven and nature, Carries some trouble with it: and for arms, There are enough will bleed to be triumphant, A limb to me is better than a laurel Purchased with wounds; your pardon, if I think The Queen of Love to be preferred, accept The Ball bright Cytherea, and with it The humble heart of Paris. Jun. Am I thus Neglected by a Boy? how I despise him. Pal. I pity the fond youth. Exit. Par. They are both gone. Ven. Displeased. Par. Their anger frights not me, So I be welcome here. Ven. Be confident Enter Cupid. Love shall confirm it: see my son appears. Cupid, I thought thou hadst been lost. Cup. Though blind, I never lose my way to beauty: Mother, I all this while but hovered in the air, To hear how Paris would determine, and Rejoice in beauty's triumph, and thy justice Par. Let Juno fret, and Pallas frown, Nature to all succeeding times shall prove, Wealth, Arts, & Arms must yield to conquering Love. Cup. That name belongs to me. Par. Venus and Cupid will no doubt agree. Love dwells with beauty, they together move; There is no beauty where there is not love. Cup. For this choice, young Paris know, While powerful Cupid hath a Bow, A golden shaft, or skilful hand, All shall move at thy command. Par. You both make Paris happy. Ven. But where are Our train of Graces, and the pleasant hours, To entertain our Darling? Where is Hymen? Where is Delight? Cup. Mother they both appear. Enter Hymen and Delight SONG. Hym. Come ye Graces come away. Del. ye pleasant hours why do you stay? Both. upon your Mistress wait. Hym. See where in state The Queen of Love and beauty is. Del. On such a solemn night as this, Sacred to kissing: What bold Nymph dare be missing? Hym. They come, they come, behold The modest Graces. The Graces and hours Enter. Del. For loves sake mend your paces, And blush not to be bold. Hym. The hours have lost their wings, I fear, Del. No, they appear. Chorus. And Ida green Is now the Court of Paphos Queen: Where every one doth welcome sing To Venus, and their new made King. They all bow to Venus. Ven. All these wait On me, and I command them to attend On lovely Paris. Par. Let me dwell ever With Cytherea, Ida is turned heaven. Ven. Now let us dance, these pleasures are not active. They dance; after which a Song. The hours steal off. How dully all your joys do move, Delight is crippled here. Your motion should be like to that above, This is too thick a sphere. The feather-footed hours are fled away, Ashamed to stay: Then follow, fly, oh come, You must make haste, If you will taste Loves new Elysium. Ven. We want some of our nymphs Eunomia, Fair Diche, and Irene, are they gone? 1. Grace. Although we did entreat them stay, The pleasant hours are stolen away. Ven. Which way. Grac. That way, To the Elysian Bowers. Pa. we'll fly, and overtake the happy hours. Exeunt. FINIS.