THE FORTVNATE ISLES.
His Ma tie being sett,
ENtreth in, running, IOHPHIEL, an aëry spirit, and (according to the Magi) the Intelligence of Iupiters sphere: Attired in light silks of seuerall colours, with wings of the same, a bright yellow haire, a chaplet of flowers, blew silke stockings, and pumps, and gloues, with a siluer fan in his hand.
IOHPHIEL.
Like a lightning from the skie,
or an arrow shot by
Loue,
Or a Bird of his let fly;
Bee't a Sparrow, or a Doue:
With that winged hast, come I,
loosed from the Sphere of
Ioue,
To wish good-night
to your delight.
To him enters a Melancholique Student, in bare and worne cloathes, shrowded vnder an obscure cloake, and the eaues of an old hatt, fetching a deepe sigh, his name, M r.
MERE-FOOLE.
[Page]
Oh, oh!
IOHPHIEL.
In
Saturn's name, the Father of my Lord!
What ouer-charged peice of
Melancholie
Is this, breakes in betweene my wishes thus,
With bombing sighes?
MERE-FOOLE.
No! no Intelligence!
Not yet! and all my vowes now nine dayes old!
Blindnes of fate! Puppies had seene by this time:
But I see nothing! that I should! or would see!
What meane the Brethren of the
Rosie-Crosse
So to desert their votary!
IOHPHIEL.
O! tis one
Hath vow'd himselfe vnto that aërie order,
And now is gaping for the flie they promis'd him.
I'll mixe a little with him for my sport.
MERE-FOOLE.
Haue I both in my lodging, and my diet,
My cloaths, and euery other solemne charge
Obseru'd 'hem! made the naked bords my bed!
A fagot for my pillow! hungred sore!
IOHPHIEL.
And thirsted after'hem!
MERE-FOOLE.
To looke gaunt, and leane!
IOHPHIEL.
[Page]
Which will not be.
MERE-FOOLE.
(Who's that?) yes, and outwatcht,
Yea, and out-walked any Ghost aliue
In solitarie circle, worne my bootes,
Knees, armes, and elbowes out!
IOHPHIEL.
Ran on the score!
MERE-FOOLE.
That haue I (who suggests that?) and for more
Then I will speake of, to abate this flesh,
And haue not gaind the sight;
IOHPHIEL.
Nay scarce the sense,
MERE-FOOLE.
(Voice, thou art right) of any thing but a cold
Wind in my stomacke.
IOHPHIEL.
And a kind of whimsie.
MERE-FOOLE.
Here in my head, that puts me to the staggers,
Whether there be that Brotherhood, or no.
IOHPHIEL.
Beleeue fraile man, they be: And thou shalt see.
MERE-FOOLE.
What shall I see?
IOHPHIEL.
[Page]
Mee.
MERE-FOOLE.
Thee? Where?
IOHPHIEL.
Here. If you
Be M
r.
Mere-Foole.
MERE-FOOLE.
Sir, our name is
Mery-Foole.
But by contraction
Mere-Foole.
IOHPHIEL.
Then are you
The wight I seeke: and S
r. my name is
Iohphiel,
Intelligence to the Sphere of
Iupiter,
An aëry iocular spirit, imploy'd to you
From Father OVTIS.
MERE-FOOLE.
OVTIS? who is hee?
IOHPHIEL.
Know yee not OVTIS? Then know Nobody:
The good old
Hermit, that was said to dwell
Here in the forest without trees, that built
The Castle in the aire, where all the Brethren
Rhodostaurotick liue. It flies with wings,
And runnes on wheeles: where
Iulian de Campis
Holds out the brandisht blade.
MERE-FOOLE.
Is't possible
[Page] They thinke on mee?
IOHPHIEL.
Rise, be not lost in wonder,
But heare mee, and be faithfull. All the Brethren
Haue heard your vowes, salute you, and expect you,
By mee, this next returne. But the good Father
Has bin content to die for you.
MERE-FOOLE.
For mee?
IOHPHIEL.
For you. Last New-years day, which some giue out
Because it was his Birth-day, and began
The yeare of
Iubile, he would rest vpon it,
Being his hundred fiue and twentith yeare:
But the truth is, hauing obseru'd your
Genesis,
He would not liue, because he might leaue all
He had to you.
MERE-FOOLE.
What had hee?
IOHPHIEL.
Had? An office,
Two, three, or foure.
MERE-FOOLE.
Where?
IOHPHIEL.
In the vpper Region:
And that you'll find. The Farme of the great Customes,
Through all the Ports of the Aires Intelligences;
[Page] Then Constable of the Castle
Rosy-Crosse:
Which you must be, and Keeper of the Keyes
Of the whole
Kaball, with the Seales; you shall be
Principall Secretarie to the Starres;
Know all their signatures, and combinations,
The diuine rods, and consecrated roots.
What not? Would you turne trees vp like the wind,
To shew your strength? march ouer heads of armies,
Or points of pikes, to shew your lightnesse? force
All doores of arts, with the petarr, of your wit?
Reade at one view all books? speake all the languages
Of seuerall creatures? master all the learnings
Were, are, or shallbe? or, to shew your wealth,
Open all treasures, hid by nature, from
The rocke of Diamond, to the mine of Sea-coale?
Sir, you shall doe it.
MERE-FOOLE.
But how?
IOHPHIEL.
Why, by his skill,
Of which he has left you the inheritance,
Here in a pot: this little gally pot,
Of tincture, high rose tincture. Ther's your
He giues him a Rose.
Order,You will ha' your Collar sent you, er't be long.
MERE-FOOLE.
I lookt S
r. for a halter, I was desperate.
IOHPHIEL.
Reach forth your hand:
MERE-FOOLE.
O S
r. a broken sleeue
[Page] Keepes the arme back as'tis i'the prouerbe.
IOHPHIEL.
Nay,
For that I doe commend you: you must be poore
With al your wealth, & learning. Whē you ha'made
Your glasses, gardens in the depth of winter,
Where you will walke inuisible to Mankinde,
Talkt with all birds & beasts in their owne language,
When you haue penetrated hills like ayre,
Diu'd to the bottome of the Sea, like lead,
And riss'againe like corke, walk't in the fire
An 'twere a
Salamander, pass'd through all
The winding orbes, like an Intelligence,
Vp to the
Empyreum, when you haue made
The World your gallery, can dispatch a busines
In some three minuts, with the
Antipodes,
And in fiue more, negotiate the
Globe ouer;
You must be poore still.
MERE-FOOLE.
By my place, I know it.
IOPHIEL.
Where would you wish to be now? or what to see?
Without the fortunate purse to beare your charges,
Or wishing hat? I will but touch your temples,
The corners of your eyes, and tinct the tip,
The very tip o' your nose, with this
Collyrium
And you shall see i' the aire all the
Ideas,
Spirits, and
Atomes, Flies, that buz about
This way, and that way, and are rather admirable,
Then any way intelligible.
MERE-FOOLE.
[Page]
O, come, tinct me,
Tinct me: I long, saue this great belly, I long.
But shall I onely see?
IOHPHIEL.
See, and commaund
As they were all your vallets, or your foot-boyes:
But first you must declare, (your Greatnes must,
For that is now your stile) what you would see,
Or whom.
MERE-FOOLE.
Is that my stile? My Greatnes, then,
Would see King
Zoroastres.
IOHPHIEL.
Why you shall:
Or any one beside. Thinke whom you please?
Your thousand, Your ten thousand, to a million:
All's one to me, if you could name a myriad.
MERE-FOOLE.
I haue nam'd him.
IOHPHIEL.
You'haue reason.
MERE-FOOLE.
I, I haue reason.
Because he's said to be the Father of coniurers,
And a cunning man i'the starres.
IOHPHIEL.
I, that's it troubles vs.
A little for the present: For, at this time
[Page] He is confuting a French
Almanack,
But he will straight haue don, Ha' you but patience;
Or thinke but any other in meane time,
Any hard name.
MERE-FOOLE.
Then, Hermes Trismegistus.
IOHPHIEL.
O,
[...] Why, you shall see him,
A fine hard name. Or him, or whom you will,
As I said to you afore. Or what do you thinke
Of
Howle-glasse, in stead of him?
MERE-FOOLE.
No, him
I haue a minde to.
IOHPHIEL.
O', but
Vlen-spiegle
Were such a name! but you shal haue your longing.
What lucke is this, he should be busie to?
He is waighing water, but to fill three houreglasses,
And marke the day in pen'orths like a cheese,
And he has done. Tis strange you should name him
Of all the rest! there being
Iamblicus,
Or
Porphyrie, or
Proclus, any name
That is not busy.
MERE-FOOLE.
Let me see
Pythagoras.
IOHPHIEL.
Good.
MERE-FOOLE.
or Plato,
IOHPHIEL.
[Page]
Plato, is framing some
Idea's,
Are now bespoken, at a groat a dozen,
Three grosse at least: And, for
Pythagoras,
He 'has rashly run himselfe on an imployment,
Of keeping
Asses from a feild of beanes;
And cannot be stau'd off.
MERE-FOOLE.
Then, Archimedes.
IOHPHIEL.
Yes, Archimedes!
MERE-FOOLE.
I, or
Aesope.
IOHPHIEL.
Nay,
Hold your first man, a good man,
Archimedes,
And worthy to be seene; but he is now
Inventing a rare Mouse-trap with
Owles wings
And a
Catts-foote, to catch the Mise alone:
And
Aesop, he is filing a
Fox tongue,
For a new fable he has made of Court;
But you shall see 'hem all, stay but your time
And aske in season; Things ask'd out of season
A man denies himselfe. At such a time
As
Christmas, when disguising is o' foote,
To aske of the inventions, and the men,
The witts, and the ingines that moue those Orbes!
Me thinkes, you should enquire now, after
Skelton,
Or M
r.
Scogan.
MERE-FOOLE.
[Page]
Scogan? what was he?
IOHPHIEL.
O' a fine gentleman, and a
Master of
Arts,
Of
Henry the fourth's times, that made disguises
For the Kings sonnes, and writ in ballad-royall
Daintily well.
MERE-FOOLE.
But, wrote he like a Gentleman?
IOHPHIEL.
In rime! fine tinckling rime! and flowand verse!
With now & then some sense! & he was paid for't,
Regarded, and rewarded: which few
Poets
Are now adaies.
MERE-FOOLE.
And why.
IOHPHIEL.
'Cause euery Dabler
In rime is thought the same. But you shall see him.
Hold vp your nose.
MERE-FOOLE.
I had rather see a
Brathman,
Or a
Gymnosophist yet.
IOHPHIEL.
You shall see him, Sir.
Is worth them both. And with him
Domine Skelton,
The worshipfull
Poet Laureat to
K. Harry
And
Tytire tu of those times. Aduance quick
Scogan,
And quicker
Skelton, shew your craftie heads,
Before this Heyre of arts, this Lord of learning,
[Page] This Master of all knowledge in reuersion.
Enter SKOGAN, and SKELTON in like habits, as they liu'd.
SCOGAN.
Seemeth wee are call'd of a morall intent
If the words, that are spoken, as well now be ment.
IOHPHIEL.
That M
r.
Scogan I dare you ensure.
SCOGAN.
Then, Sonne, our acquaintance is like to indure.
MERE-FOOLE.
A pretty game! like
Crambe. M
r.
Scogan,
Giue me thy hand. Thou'art very leane, me thinks.
Is't liuing by thy witts?
SCOGAN.
If it had bin that,
My worshipfull Sonne, thou hadst ne'r bin so fatt.
IOHPHIEL.
He tels you true S
r. Here's a gentleman
(My paire of crafty Clearkes) of that high caract,
As hardly hath the age produc't his like.
Who not content with the witt of his owne times,
Is curious to know yours, and what hath bin,
MERE-FOOLE.
Or is, or shall be.
IOHPHIEL.
Note his Latitude!
SKELTON.
[Page] O, vir amplissimus!
(Vt scholis dicimus)
Et gentilissimus!
IOHPHIEL.
The
question-issimus
Is, should he aske a sight now, for his life;
I meane, a person, he would haue restor'd,
To memorie of these times, for a Play-fellow,
Whether you would present him, with an
Hermes,
Or, with an
Howle-glas?
SKELTON.
An Howleglasse
To come, to passe
On his Fathers Asse;
There neuer was,
By day, nor night,
A finer sight.
With fethers vpright
In his horned cap,
And crooked shape,
Much like an Ape.
With Owle on sist,
And Glasse at his wrist.
SKOGAN.
Except the soure Knaues entertain'd for the guards,
Of the Kings, & y
e Queenes that triumph in y
e cards.
IOHPHIEL.
I, that were a sight and a halfe, I confesse,
To see 'hem come skipping in, all at a messe!
SKELTON.
[Page]
With Elinor Rumming.
To make vp the mumming;
That comely
Gill,
That dwelt on a hill,
But she is not grill:
Her face all bowsy,
Droopie, and drowsie,
Scuruy, and lowsie,
Comely crinkled,
Wondersly wrinkled,
Like a rost pigs eare,
Bristled with haire.
SCOGAN.
Or, what do you say to
Ruffian Fitz-Ale?
IOHPHIEL.
An excellent sight, if he be not too stale.
But then, we can mix him with moderne
Vapors,
The Child of
Tobacco, his pipes, and his papers.
MERE-FOOLE.
You talk'd of
Elinor Rumming, I had rather
See Ellen of Troy.
IOHPHIEL.
Her you shall see.
But credit mee,
That Marie Ambree
(Who march'd so free.
To the siege of
Gaunt,
And death could not daunt,
[Page] As the Ballad doth vaunt)
Were a brauer wight,
And a better sight.
SKELTON.
Or Westmister
Meg,
With her long leg,
As long as a Crane;
And feet like a plane:
With a paire of heeles,
As broad as two wheeles;
To driue downe the dew,
As she goes to the stew:
And turnes home metry,
By Lambeth ferry.
Or you may haue come
In, Thomas Thumbe,
In a pudding fatt
With Doctor
Ratt.
IOHPHIEL.
I, that! that! that!
Wee'll haue'em all,
To fill the Hall.
The Antimasque followes.
Consisting of these twelue persons, Owleglas, the foure Knaues, two Ruffians Fitzale, and Vapors; Elnor Rumming, Mary Ambree, Long=Meg of Westminster, Tom Thumbe, and Doctor Ratt.
Which done,
MERE-FOOLE.
What! are they vanish'd! where is skipping
Skelton?
Or morall
Scogan? I doe like their shew
And would haue thankt'hem, being the first grace
The Company of the
Rosie-Crosse hath done me.
IOHPHIEL.
The company o'the
Rosie-crosse! you wigion,
The company of
Players. Go, you are,
And wilbe stil your selfe, a
Mere-foole, In;
And take your pot of hony here, and hogs greace,
See, who has guld you, and make one. Great King,
Your pardon, if desire to please haue trespass'd.
This foole should haue bin sent to
Antycira,
(The Ile of
Ellebore,) there to haue purg'd,
Not hop'd a happie seat within your waters.
Heare now the message of the Fates, and
Ioue,
On whom those Fates depend, to you, as
Neptune
The great Commander of the Seas, and Iles.
That point of Reuolution being come
[Page] When all the Fortunate Islands should be ioyn'd,
MACARIA, one, and thought a Principall,
That hetherto hath floted, as vncertaine
Where she would fix her blessings, is to night
Instructed to adhere to your BRITANNIA:
That where the happie spirits liue, hereafter
Might be no question made, by the most curious,
Since the
Macarij come to doe you homage,
And ioyne their cradle to your continent.
Here the Scene opens, and the Masquers are discouer'd sitting in their seuerall seiges. The aire opens aboue, and APOLLO with Harmony, and the spirits of Musique sing, the while the Iland moues forward, Proteus sitting below, and hearkning.
Song.
Looke forth the Shepheard of the Seas,
And of the Ports that keep the keyes,
And to your
Neptune tell,
MACARIA, Prince of all the Isles,
Wherein there nothing growes, but smiles,
Doth here put in, to dwell.
The windes are sweete, and gently blow,
But
Zephirus, no breath they know,
The Father of the flowers:
By him the virgin violets liue,
And euery plant doth odours giue,
As new, as are the howers.
CHORVS.
[Page]
Then, thinke it not a common cause,
That to it so much wonder drawes,
And all the heauens consent,
With
Harmony to tune their notes,
In answer to the publique votes,
That for it vp were sent.
By this time, the Iland hauing ioyned it selfe to the shore; PROTEVS, PORTVNVS, and SARON come forth, and go vp singing to the State, while the Masquers take time to ranke themselues.
Song.
PROTEVS.
I, now, the heights of
Neptunes honors shine,
And all the glories of his greater stile
Are read, reflected in this happiest Ile.
PORTVNVS.
How both the aire, the soile, the seat combine
To speake it blessed!
SARON.
These are the true groues,
Where ioyes are borne,
PROTEVS.
Where longings,
PORTVNVS.
[Page]
and where loues!
SARON.
That liue!
PROTEVS.
That last!
PORTVNVS.
No intermitted wind
Blowes here, but what leaues flowers, or fruit behind
CHORVS.
Tis odour all, that comes!
And euery tree doth giue his gummes.
PROTEVS.
There is no sicknes, nor no old age knowne
To man, nor any greife that he dares owne.
There is no hunger there, nor enuy of state.
Nor least ambition in the
Magistrate.
But all are euen-harted, open, free,
And what one is, another striues to be.
PORTVNVS.
Here all the day, they feast, they sport, and spring;
Now dance the
Graces Hay, now
Venus Ring:
To which the old
Musitians play, and sing.
SARON.
There is
ARION, tuning his bold Harpe,
from flat to sharpe.
PORTVNVS.
And light Anacreon,
He still is one!
PROTEVS.
[Page]
Stesichorus there, too,
That
Linus, and old
Orpheus doth out-doe
To wonder.
SARON.
And
Amphion! he is there.
PORTVNVS.
Nor is
Apollo dainty to appeare
In such a quire, although the trees be thick,
PROTEVS.
He will looke in, and see the aires be quick,
And that the times be true.
PORTVNVS.
Then, chanting,
PROTEVS.
Then,
Vp, with their notes, they raise the
Prince of Men.
SARON.
And sing the present
Prophecie that goes
Of ioyning the bright
LILLIE, and the
ROSE.
CHORVS.
See! all the flowres
PROTEVS.
That spring the banks along,
Do moue their heads vnto that vnder-song.
CHORVS.
SARON, PORTVNVS, PROTEVS,
helpe to bring
Our
Primrose in, the glorie of the spring!
And tell the
Daffadill, against that day,
That we prepare new Gyrlands fresh as
May.
And enterweaue the
Myrtle, and the
Bay.
[Page] This sung, the Island goes back, whilst the vpper Chorus takes it from them, and the Masquers prepare for their figure.
CHORVS.
Spring all the
Graces of the age,
And all the
Loues of time;
Bring all the pleasures of the stage,
And relishes of rime:
Add all the softnesses of Courts,
The lookes, the laughters, and the sports.
And mingle all their sweets, and salts,
Thai none may say, the
Triumph halts.
The Masquers dance their Entry or first dance.
Which done, the first Prospectiue, a Maritime Palace, or the house of Oceanus is discouered to lowd Musique.
The other aboue is no more seene.
IOHPHIEL.
Behold the Palace of
Oceanus!
Hayle Reuerend structure! Boast no more to vs
Thy being able, all the Gods to feast;
We saw enough: when ALBION was thy guest.
IOHPHIEL.
Now turne; and view the wonders of the deepe,
Where
Proteus heards, &
Neptunes Orkes do keep,
Where all is plough'd, yet still the pastures greene
New wayes are found, and yet no paths are seene.
Here
Proteus, Portunus, Saron goe vp to the Ladies with this
Song.
PROTEVS.
Come noble
Nymphs, and doe not hide
The ioyes, for which you so prouide:
SARON.
If not to mingle with the Men,
What do you here? Go home agen.
PORTVNVS.
Your dressings doe confesse,
By what wee see, so curious parts
Of
Pallas, and
Arachnes arts,
That you could meane no lesse.
PROTEVS.
Why do you weare the silke-wormes toyles.
Or glorie in the shell-fish spoiles;
[Page] Or striue to shew the graines of Ore
That you haue gather'd on the shore,
whereof to make a stocke
To graft the greener Emerald on,
Or any better water'd stone,
SARON.
Or Rubie of the rock?
PROTEVS.
Why do you smell of Amber-gris,
Of which was formed Neptunes Neice,
The Queene of Loue: vnlesse you can
Like Sea-borne
Venus loue a Man?
SARON.
Try, put your selues vnto't.
CHORVS.
Your lookes, your smiles, and thoughts that meete.
Ambrosian hands, and siluer feete,
Do promise you will do't.
The Reuels follow.
Which ended, the Fleete is discouered, while the three Corners play.
IOHPHIEL.
Tis time, your eyes should be refresht at length
With something new, a patt of NEPTVNES strength,
See, yond', his Fleete, ready to goe or come,
Or fetch the riches of the
Ocean home,
[Page] So to secure him, both in peace, and warres,
Till not one ship alone, but all be starres.
Then the last
Song.
PROTEVS.
Although we wish the glorie still might last
Of such a night, and for the causes past:
Yet now, great Lord of waters, and of Iles,
Giue
Proteus leaue to turne vnto his wiles.
PORTVNVS.
And, whilst young
ALBION doth thy labours ease,
Dispatch
Portunus to thy Ports,
SARON.
And
Saron to thy Seas:
To meet old
Nereus, with his fiftie girles,
From aged
Indus laden home with pearles,
And Orient gummes, to burne vnto thy name.
CHORVS.
And may thy subiects hearts be all one flame.
Whilst thou dost keepe the earth in firme estate,
And 'mongst the winds, do'st suffer no debate,
But both at Sea, and Land, our powers increase,
With health, and all the golden gifts of Peace.
After which, their last Dance.
The End.