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The Golden Age Restored.

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380 Masques.                    


Golden  Age  Restored.

I N   A

M   A   S   Q   U   E

At  C O U R T,  1615.

By the Lords and Gentlemen the King's Servants.

Lowd Musick.
Pallas in her Chariot descending.
To a softer Musick.


Ook, look! rejoyce, and wonder!
   That you offending mortals are
   (For all your crimes) so much the care
Of him that bears the thunder!

Jove can endure no longer,
   Your great ones should your less invade;
   Or that your weak, tho bad, be made
A prey unto the stronger.

And therefore, means to settle
   Astrĉa in her seat again;
   And let down in his golden chain
The Age of better mettle.

Which deed he doth the rather,
   That even Envy may behold
   Time not enjoy his head of gold
Alone beneath his father.

But that his care conserveth
   As time, so all times honors too,
   Regarding still what heaven should do,
And not what earth deserveth.

A tumult
and clash-     
ing of
But hark, what tumult from yond' cave is heard!
   What noise, what strife, what earthquake and
As troubled Nature for her Maker, fear'd;
   And all the iron-age were up in arms!

Hide me, soft cloud, from their prophaner eyes,
   Till insolent Rebellion take the field,
And as their spirits with their counsels rise,
   I frustrate all with showing of my shield.

   Iron Age presents it self, calling forth the Evils.

Ome forth, come forth, do we not hear
 What purpose, and how worth our fear,

[column break]

   The King of Gods hath on us?
He is not of the iron breed,
That would, though Fate did help the deed,
   Let shame in so upon us.
Rise, rise then up, thou Grandame Vice
Of all my issue, Avarice,
   Bring with thee Fraud and Slander,
Corruption with the golden hands,
Or any subtler ill, that stands
   To be a more Commander.
Thy Boys, Ambition, Pride, and Scorn,
Force, Rapine, and thy babe last born,
   Smooth Treachery call hither.
Arm Folly forth, and Ignorance,
And teach them all our Pyrrhick dance:
   We may triumph together,
Upon this enemy so great,
Whom, if our forces can defeat,
   And but this once bring under,
We are the masters of the skies,
Where all the wealth, height, power lies,
   The scepter, and the thunder.
Which of you would not in a war
Attempt the price of any scar,
   To keep your own states even?
But, here, which of you is that he,
Would not himself the weapon be,
   To ruine Jove and Heaven?
About it then, and let him feel,
The iron-age is turn'd to steel,
   Since he begins to threat her:
And though the bodies here are less
Than were the Giants; he'll confess
   Our malice is far greater.

The Antimasque, and their Dance, two Drums, Trumpets, and
   a confusion of Martial Musick: at the end of which
   shewing her shield.

O change, and perish, scarcely knowing how,
 That 'gainst the Gods do take so vain a vow,
And think to equal with your mortal dates,
Their lives that are obnoxious to no fates.
'Twas time t' appear, and let their folly see,
'Gainst whom they sought, and with what destiny.

                Masques. 381

phos'd &
the Scene     
she calls
Astrĉa &
the Gol-
den age.
Die all, that can remain of you, but stone,
And that beseen'be seen' awhile, and then be none.
Now, now, descend you both belov'd of Jove,
And of the good on earth no less the love;
Descend you long long wish'd, and wanted pair,
And as your softer times divide the air,
So shake all clouds off with your golden hair;
For spight is spent: the iron-age is fled,
And, with her power on earth, her name is dead.

1  A S T R Ĉ A.     2  A G E. descending.

1, 2. And are we then,
        To live agen,
         With men?
1. Will Jove such pledges to th' earth restore
    As Justice?   2. Or the purer ore?

P A L L A S.

Once more.

A S T R Ĉ A.     A G E.

2. But do they know,
    How much they owe,
1. And will of grace receive it, not as due?

P A L L A S.

     If not they harm themselves, not you.

A S T R Ĉ A.     A G E.

1 True.    2 True.

Q U I R E.

Let narrow Natures (how they will) mistake,
The great should still be good for their own sake.

   They are
P A L L A S.

Welcome to earth and raign.

A S T R Ĉ A.     A G E.

But how without a train
Shall we our state sustain?

   She calls
the Poets.
P A L L A S.

Leave that to Jove: therein you are
No little part of his Minerva's care.
                               Expect a while,
You far fam'd spirits of this happy Isle,
That, for your sacred songs have gain'd the stile
Of Phœbus sons: whose notes the air aspire
Of th' old Ĉgyptian, or the Thracian lyre,
That Chaucer, Gower, Lidgate, Spencer hight,
Put on your better flames, and larger light,
To wait upon the age that shall your names
           new nourish,
Since vertue prest shall grow, and buried arts
           shall flourish.

Poets descend.

         2 We come.   2 We come.
             4 Our best of fire
                 Is that which Pallas doth inspire.

P A L L A S.

Then see you yonder souls, set far within the shade,
  And in Elisian bowers the blessed seats do keep,

[column break]

That for their living good now semy-gods are made.
   And went away from earth, as if but tam'd with sleep:
These we must joyn to wake; for these are of the strain
That justice dare defend, and will the age sustain.

Q U I R E.

Awake, awake, for whom these times were kept,
O wake, wake, wake, as you had never slept,
Make hast and put on air, to be their guard,
Whom once but to defend, is still reward.

P A L L A S.

Thus Pallas throws a lightning from her shield.

The Scene
of light
Q U I R E.

To which let all that doubtful darkness yeild.obsolete spelling of 'yield'

1  A S T R Ĉ A.     2  A G E.         

1 Now peace.   2 And love.   1 Faith.   2 Joys.
              1, 2. All all increase.

A pause.   
P O E T S.

2 And strife,   2 And hate,   2 And fear,   2 And
             pain,   4 All cease.

P A L L A S.                           

No tumour of an iron vain.
The causes shall not come again.

Q U I R E.                           

            But, as of old, all now be gold.
Move, move then to these sounds.
And, do, not only, walk your solemn rounds,
But give those light and ayry bounds,
That fit the Genii of these gladder grounds,

The first dance, after which, P A L L A S.

Already? Do not all things smile?

A S T R Ĉ A.                        

But when they have enjoy'd a while,
   The ages quickning power:

A G E.                        

That every thought a seed doth bring,
And every look a plant doth spring,
   And every breath a flower:

P A L L A S.                        

Then earth unplough'd shall yield her crop,
Pure honey from the oak shall drop,
   The fountain shall run milk:
The thistle shall the lilly bear,
And every bramble roses wear,
   And every worm make silk.

Q U I R E.                        

The very shrub shall balsame sweat,
And Nectar melt the rock with heat,
   Till earth have drunk her fill:
That she no harm uweed'harmful weed' may know,
Nor barren Ferne, nor Mandrake low,
   Nor Minerall to kill.

382 Masques.                    

The main dance, after which,

P A L L A S.

But here's not all: you must do more,
Or else you do but half restore
         The Ages liberty.

P O E T S.

The male and female us'd to joyn,
And into all delight did coyn
         That pure simplicity.
Then feature did to form advance,
And Youth call'd Beauty forth to dance,
         And every grace was by.
It was a time of no distrust,
So much of Love had nought of lust,
         None fear'd a jealous eye.
The language melted in the ear,
Yet all without a blush might hear,
         They liv'd with open vow.

Q U I R E.

Each touch and kiss was so well plac'd,
They were as sweet as they were chast,
         And such must yours be now.

Dance with Ladies.

P A L L A S  ascending, calls them.

'Tis now enough, behold you here,
What Jove hath built to be your sphere,
         You hither must retire.
And as his bounty gives you cause,
Be ready still without your pause,
         To shew the world your fire.
Like lights about Astrĉa's throne,
You here must shine, and all be one,
         In fervor and in flame.

[column break]

That by your union she may grow,
And, you sustaining her, may know,
         The age still by her name.

Who vows, against, or heat or cold,
To spin you garments of her gold,
    That Want may touch you never,
And making garlands every hour,
To write your names in some new flower,
         That you may live for ever.

Q U I R E.

To Jove, to Jove, be all the honour given,
That thankful hearts can raise from earth to heaven.

A S T R Ĉ A.

What change is here! I had not more
Desire to leave the earth before,
         Than I have now to stay;
My silver feet, like roots, are wreath'd
Into the ground, my wings are sheath'd,
         And I cannot away.

Of all there seems a second birth,
It is become a heaven on earth,
         And Jove is present here,
I feel the God-head: nor will doubt
But he can fill the place throughout,
         Whose power is every where.

This, this, and only such as this,
The bright Astrĉa's region is,
         Where she would pray to live,
And in the midst of so much gold,
Unbought with grace or fear unsold,
         The law to mortals give.

Galliards and Coranto's.

F  I  N  I  S.

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