Upon an Honest Man's Fortune.

By Mr. JOHN FLETCHER.

You that can look through Heaven, and tell the Stars,
Observe their kind conjunctions, and their wars;
Find out new Lights, and give them where you please,
To those men honors, pleasures, to those ease;
You that are God's Surveyers, and can show
How far, and when, and why the wind doth blow;
Know all the charges of the dreadful thunder,
And when it will shoot over, or fall under:
Tell me, by all your Art I conjure ye,
Yes, and by truth, what shall become of me?
Find out my Star, if each one, as you say,
Have his peculiar Angel, and his way;
Observe my fate, next fall into your dreams,
Sweep clean your houses, and new line your Sceames,
Then say your worst: or have I none at all?
Or is it burnt out lately? or did fall?
Or am I poor? not able, no full flame?
My Star, like me, unworthy of a name?
Is it your Art can only work on those,
That deal with dangers, dignities, and cloaths?
With Love, or new Opinions? you all lye,
A Fish-wife hath a fate, and so have I,
But far above your finding; he that gives,
Out of his providence, to all that lives,
And no man knows his treasure, no, not you:
He that made Egypt blind, from whence you grew
Scabby and lowzie, that the world might see
Your Calculations are as blind as ye:
He that made all the Stars, you daily read,
And from thence filtch a knowledge how to feed;
Hath hid this from you, your conjectures all
Are drunken things, not how, but when they fall:
Man is his own Star, and the soul that can
Render an honest, and a perfect man,
Commands all light, all influence, all fate,
Nothing to him falls early, or too late.
Our Acts our Angels are, or good or ill,
Our fatal shadows that walk by us still,
And when the Stars are labouring, we believe
It is not that they govern, but they grieve
For stuborn ignorance; all things that are
Made for our general uses, are at war,
Even we among our selves, and from the strife,
Tour first unlike opinions got a life.
Oh man! thou Image of thy Makers good,
What canst thou fear, when breathed into thy bloud,
His spirit is, that built thee? what dull sence
Makes thee suspect, in need, that Providence?
Who made the morning, and who plac'd the light
Guide to thy labours? who call'd up the night,
And bid her fall upon thee like sweet showers
In hollow murmurs, to lock up thy powers?
Who gave thee knowledge, who so trusted thee,
To let thee grow so near himself, the Tree?
Must he then be distrusted? shall his frame
Discourse with him, why thus, and thus I am?
He made the Angels thine, thy fellows all,
Nay, even thy servants, when Devotions call.
Oh! canst thou be so stupid then, so dim,
To seek a saving influence, and loose him?
Can Stars protect thee? or can poverty,
Which is the light to Heaven, put out his eye?
He is my Star, in him all truth I find,
All influence, all fate, and when my mind
Is furnish'd with his fullness, my poor story
Shall out-live all their age, and all their glory,
The hand of danger cannot fall amiss,
When I know what, and in whose power it is.
[N]or want, the cause of man, shall make me groan,
A Holy Hermit is a mind alone.
Doth not experience teach us all we can,
To work our selves into a glorious man?
Love's but an exhalation to best eyes
The matter spent, and then the fools fire dies?
Were I in love, and could that bright Star bring
Increase to Wealth, Honor, and every thing:
Were she as perfect good, as we can aim,
The first was so, and yet she lost the Game.
My Mistriss then be knowledge and fair truth;
So I enjoy all beauty and all youth,
And though to time her Lights, and Laws she lends,
She knows no Age, that to corruption bends.
Friends promises may lead me to believe,
But he that [is] his own friend, knows to live.
Affliction, when I know it is but this,
A deep allay, whereby man tougher is
To ear the hammer, and the deeper still,
We still arise more image of his Will.
Sickness, an humorous cloud 'twixt us and light
And death, at longest but another night.
Man is his own Star, and that soul that can
Be honest, is the only perfect man.

FINIS.

THE
MASQUE of the Gentlemen
OF
GRAYS-INNE and the INNER-TEMPLE;

Performed before the KING in the Banqueting-House in White-Hall, at the Marriage of the Illustrious Frederick and Elizabeth, Prince and Princess Palatine of the Rhine.

Written by FRANCIS BEAMONT Gent.

Enter Iris running, Mercury following, and catching hold of her.

Mercury.
Stay Light-[f]oot Iris, for thou striv'st in vain,
My wings are nimbler than thy feet.

Iris. Away,
Dissembling Mercury, my messages
Ask honest haste, not like those wanton ones,
Your thundering Father sends.

Mer. Stay foolish Maid,
Or I will take my rise upon a hill,
When I perceive thee seated in a cloud,
In all the painted glory that thou hast,
And never cease to clap my willing wing,
Till I catch hold o[f] thy discolour'd Bow,
And shiver it beyond the angry power
Of your [curst] Mistriss to make up again.

Iris. Hermes forbear, Juno will chide and strike;
Is great Jove jealous that I am imploy'd
On her Love-errands? she did never yet
Claspe weak mortality in her white arms,
As he has often done; I only come
To celebrate the long wish'd Nuptials
Here in Olympia, which are now perform'd
Betwixt two goodly Rivers, [which] have mixt
Their gentle [ris]ing waves, and are to grow
Into a thousand streams, great as themselves.
I need not name them, for the sound is loud
In Heaven and Earth, and I am sent from her
The Queen of marriage, that was present here,
And smil'd to see them joyn, and hath not chid
Since it was done. Good Hermes let me goe.

Merc. Nay, you must stay, Jove's message is the same;
Whose eyes are lightning, and whose voice is thunder,
Whose breath is a[n]y wind, he will, who knows
How to be first [o]n Earth, as well as Heaven.

Iris. But what hath he to do with Nuptial rites?
Let him [keepe state] upon his Starry throne,
And fright poor mortals with his Thunder-bolts,
Leaving to us the mutual darts of eyes.

Merc. Alas, when ever offer'd he t'abridge
Your Ladies power, but only now in these,
Whose match concerns [his] general government?
Hath not each God a part in these high joyes?
And shall not he the King of gods presume
Without proud Juno's licence? let her know,
That when enamour'd Jove fir[st] gave her power
To link soft hearts in undissolv[ed] b[o]nds,
He then foresaw, and to himself reserv'd
The honor of this marriage: thou shalt stand
Still as a Rock, while I to bless this Feast
Will summon up with mine all-charming rod
The Nymphs of Fountains, from whose watry locks,
(Hung with the dew of blessing and increase)
The greedy Rivers take their nourishment.
Y[ou] Nymphs, who bathing in your loved Springs,
Beheld these Rivers in their infancy.
And joy'd to see them, when their circled heads
Refresh'd the Air, and spread the ground with Flowers;
Rise from your Wells, and with your nimble feet
Perform that office to this happy pair,
Which in these Plains you to Alpheus did,
When passing hence, through many Seas unmixt,
He gain'd the favour of his Arethuse.

[The Nymphs rise, and dance a little, and then make a stand.

Iris. Is Hermes grown a Lover? by what power
Unknown to us, calls he the [Naiades]?

Merc. Presumptuous Iris, I could make thee dance,
Till thou forgetst thy Ladies messages,
And rann'st back crying to her; thou shalt know
My power is more, only my breath, and this
Shall move fix'd Stars, and force the Firmament
To yield the Hyades, who govern showers,
And dewy clouds, in whose dispersed drops
Thou form'st the shape of thy deceitful Bow.
Y[ou] Maids, who yearly at appointed times
Advance with kindly tears, the gentle floods
Discend, and pour your blessing on these streams,
Which rolling down from Heaven-aspiring hills,
And now united in the fruitful vales,
Bear all before them, ravish'd with their joy,
And swell in glory, till they know no bounds.

[The Cloud discends with the Hyades, at which the Maids seem to be rejoyced; they all dance a while together, then make another stand, as if they wanted something.

Iris. Great Wit and Power hath Hermes to contrive
A livel[esse] dance, which of one sex consists.

Merc. Alas poor Iris! Venus hath in store
A secret ambush of her winged boys,
Who lurking long within these pleasant groves,
First stuck these Lovers with their equal darts;
Those Cupids shall come forth, and joyn with these,
To honor that which they themselves began.

[The Cupids come forth and dance, they are weary with their blind pursuing the Nymphs, and th[e] Nymphs weary with flying them.

Iris. Behold the Statues which wild Vulcan plac'd
Under the Altar of Olympian Jove,
And gave to them an artificial life:
[Shall daunce for joy of these great Nuptialls:]
See how they move, drawn by this Heavenly joy,
Like the wild Trees, which followed Orpheus Harp.

[The Statues come down, and they all dance, till the Nymphs out-run them, and lose them, then the Cupids go off, and last the Statues.

Merc. And what will Juno's Iris do for her?

Iris. Just match this shew, or m[y] inventio[n] fail[es],
Had it been worthier, I would have invok'd
The blazing Comets, Clouds, and falling Stars,
And all my kindred Meteors of the air,
To have excell'd it; but I now must strive
To imitate confusion; therefore thou
Delightful Flora; if thou ever feltst
Increase of sweetness in those blooming Plants,
On which the horns of my fair Bow decline,
Send hither all th[e] rural company,
Which deck the May-games with their [Countrey] sports;
Juno will have it so.

[The second Anti-Masque [rush] in, [dance] their measure, and as rudely depart.

Merc. Iris, we strive
Like winds at liberty, who should do worst
E'r we return. If Juno be the Queen
Of Marriages, let her give happy way
To what is done in honor of the State
She governs.

Iris. Hermes, so it may be done
Meerly in honor of the State, and th[e]se
That now have prov'd it; not to satisfy
The lust of Jupiter, in having thanks
More than his Juno; if thy Snaky rod
Have power to search the Heaven, or sound the Sea,
Or call together all the ends of earth,
To bring [in] any thing that may do grace
To us, and these, do it, we shall be pleas'd.

Merc. Then know that from the mouth of Jove himself,
Whose words have wings, and need not to be born,
I took a message, and I b[a]re it through
A thousand yielding clouds, and never staid
Till his high Will was done: the Olympian games,
Which long ha[ve] slept, at these wish'd Nuptials,
He pleas'd to have renew'd, and all his Knights
Are gather'd hither, who within their Tents
Rest on this hill, upon whose rising head

[The Altar is discovered with the Pri[e]sts about it, and the Statues under it, and the Knights lying in their Tents on each side, near the top of the hill.

Behold Jove's Altar, and his blessed Priests
Moving about it; come you Holy men,
And with your voices draw these youths along,
That till Jove's Musick call them to their games.
Their active sports may give a blest content
To those, for whom they are again begun.

The first Song, when the Priests descend, and the Knights follow them.

Shake off your heavy trance,
and leap into a dance,
Such as no mortals use to tread,
fit only for Apollo
To play to, for the Moon to lead,
And all the Stars to follow.

The second Song at the end of the first Dance.

On blessed youths, for Jove doth pause,
Laying aside his graver Laws
For this device:
And at the wedding such a pair,
Each dance is taken for a prayer,
Each Song a Sacrifice.

The third Song, after their many Dances, when they are to take out the Ladies.

Single.

More pleasing were these sweet delights,
If Ladies mov'd as well as Knights;
Run every one of you and catch
A Nymph, in honor of his match;
And whisper boldly in her ear,
Jove will but laugh, if you forswear.

All.

And this days sins he doth resolve,
That we his Priests should all absolve.

The fourth Song, when they have parted with the Ladies, a shrill Musick sounds, supposed to be that which calls them to the Olympian games, at which they all make a seeming preparation to depart.

Y[e] should stay longer if we durst,
Away, alas! that he that first
Gave time wild wings to fly away,
H[ath] now no power to make him stay.
[But] though these games must needs be plaid,
I would th[is] pair, when they are laid,
And not a creature nigh 'em,
[Could] catch his sithe, as he doth pass,
And [cut] his wings, and break his glass,
And keep him ever by 'em.

The fifth Song, when all is done, as they ascend

Peace and silence be the guide
To the Man, and to the Bride:
If there be a joy y[e]t new
In marriage, let it fall on you,
That all the world may wonder:
If we should stay, we should do worse,
And turn our blessings to a curse,
By keeping you asunder.