THE PROLOGUE
Most sacred Majesty, whose great deserts
Thy subject England, nay, the world, admires:
Which heaven grant still increase! O, may your praise
Multiplying with your hours, your fame still raise!
Embrace your council: love with faith them guide,
That both, as one, bench by each other’s side.
So may your life pass on, and run so even,
That your firm zeal plant you a throne in heaven,
Where smiling angels shall your guardians be
From blemish’d traitors, stain’d with perjury.
And as the night’s inferior to the day,
So be all earthly regions to your sway!
Be as the sun to day, the day to night,
For from your beams Europe shall borrow light.
Mirth drown your bosom, fair delight your mind,
And may our pastime your contentment find.
[Exit Prologue.]
INDUCTION
Enter Comedy, joyfully, with a Garland of Bays on her head.
COMEDY.
Why so; thus do I hope to please:
Music revives, and mirth is tolerable;
Comedy, play thy part and please;
Make merry them that comes to joy with thee.
Joy then, good gentles; I hope to make you laugh.
Sound forth Bellona’s silver-tuned strings;
Time fits us well, the day and place is ours.
Enter Envy, his arms naked, besmeared with blood.
ENVY.
Nay, stay, you minion, stay; there lies a block!
What, all on mirth? I’ll interrupt your tale,
And mix your music with a tragic end.
COMEDY.
What monstrous ugly hag is this,
That dares control the pleasures of our will?
Vaunt, churlish cur, besmear’d with gory blood,
That seemst to check the blossoms of delight,
And stifle the sound of sweet Bellona’s breath;
Blush, monster, blush, and post away with shame,
That seekest disturbance of a goddess’ deeds.
ENVY.
Post hence thyself, thou counterchecking trull;
I will possess this habit, spite of thee,
And gain the glory of thy wished sport.
I’ll thunder music shall appal the nymphs,
And make them shiver their clattering strings,
Flying for succour to their dankish caves.