O that now a Wish could bring,
The god-like person of a King;
Then should even Envy find,
Cause of wonder at the mind,
Of our Woodman: but lo, where
His Kingly Image doth appear,
And is all this while neglected.
Pardon (Lord) you are respected,
Deep as is the Keeper's heart,
And as dear in every part.
Here the
Satyr fetcht
out of the
Wood the
Lord Spen-
cer's eldest
Son, attired
and ap-
pointed
like an
Huntsman.
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See, for instance, where he sends
His Son, his Heir; who humbly bends
Low, as his Father's earth,
To the womb that gave you birth:
So he was directed first,
Next to you, of whom the thirst
Of seeing takes away the use
Of that part, should plead excuse
For his boldness, which is less
By his comely shamefac'tness.
Rise up, Sir, I will betray,
All I think you have to say;
That your Father gives you here
(Freely, as to him you were)
To the service of this Prince:
And with you these Instruments
Of his wild and Sylvan trade,
Better not Acteon had.
The Bow was Phœbes, and the Horn,
By Orion often worn:
The Dog of Sparta Breed, and good,
As can ring within a Wood;
Thence his name is: you shall try
How he hunteth instantly.
But perhaps the Queen your mother,
Rather doth affect some other
Sport, as coursing: we will prove
Which her Highness most doth love.
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Satyrs, let the Woods resound,
They shall have their welcom crown'd,
With a Brace of Bucks to ground.
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At that the whole Wood and Place resounded with the noise of
Cornets, Horns, and other hunting Musick, and a Brace of
choice Deer put out, and as fortunately kill'd, as they were
meant to be; even in the sight of her Majesty.
This was the first Night's Shew. Where the next day being Sun-
day, she rested, and on Monday, till after Dinner; where there
was a Speech suddenly thought on, to induce a Morris of the
Clowns thereabout, who most officiously presented themselves, but
by reason of the throng of the Country that came in, their
Speaker could not be heard, who was in the person of No-
Body, to deliver this following Speech, and attired in a pair of
Breeches which were made to come up to his Neck, with his
Arms out at his Pockets, and a Cap drowning his Face.
F my outside move your Laughter,
Pray Jove, my inside be thereafter.
Queen, Prince, Duke, Earls,
Countesses; you Courtly Pearls:
(And, I hope, no mortal Sin,
If I put less Ladies in)
Fair saluted be you all.
At this time it doth befall,
We are the Huisher to a Morris,
(A kind of Masque) whereof good store is
In the Country hereabout,
But this, the choice of all the Rout.
[column break]
Who, because that no Man sent them,
Have got No-Body to present them.
These are things have no suspicion
Of their ill doing; nor ambition
Of their well: but as the Pipe
Shall inspire them, mean to skip.
They come to see, and to be seen,
And though they dance afore the Queen,
There's none of these doth hope to come by
Wealth, to build another Holmby:
All those dancing days are done,
Men must now have more than one
Grace, to build their Fortunes on,
Else our Souls would sure have gone,
All by this time to our feet.
I not deny where Graces meet
In a Man, that quality
Is a graceful property:
But when Dancing is his best,
(Beshrew me) I suspect the rest.
But I am No-Body, and my breath
(Soon as it is born) hath death.
Come on Clowns, forsake your dumps,
And bestir your hob-nail'd stumps,
Do your worst, I'll undertake,
Not a jerk you have shall make
Any Lady here in love.
Perhaps your Fool, or so, may move
Some Lady's Woman with a trick,
And upon it she may pick
A pair of revelling legs, or two,
Out of you, with much ado.
But see, the Hobby-horse is forgot.
Fool, it must be your lot,
To supply his want with Faces,
And some other Buffoon Graces,
You know how; Piper, play,
And let no body hence away.
There was also another parting Speech, which was to have been
presented in the person of a Youth, and accompanied with divers
Gentlemens younger Sons of the Country: but by reason of the
multitudinous press, was also hindred. And which we have
here adjoined.
Nd will you then, Mirror of Queens, depart?
Shall nothing stay you? not my Master's heart?
That pants to leese the comfort of your light,
And see his Day e're it be old grow Night?
You are a Goddess, and your Will be done:
Yet this our last hope is, that as the Sun
Cheers Objects far remov'd, as well as near;
So, where so'ere you shine, you'll sparkle here.
And you, dear Lord, on whom my covetous eye
Doth feed itself, but cannot satisfie,
O shoot up fast in Spirit, as in Years;
That when upon her head proud Europe wears
Her stateliest tyre, you may appear thereon
The richest Gem, without a Paragon.
Shine bright and fixed as the Arctick Star:
And when slow Time hath made you fit for War,
Look over the strict Ocean, and think where
You may but lead us forth, that grow up here
Against a Day, when our officious Swords
Shall speak our Actions, better than our Words.
Till then, all good Event conspire to crown
Your Parents Hopes, our Zeal, and your Renown.
Peace usher now your steps, and where you come,
Be Envy still struck blind, and Flattery dumb.
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