1st Gent. What flaws and whils of weather,
Or rather storms, have been aloft these three days!
How dark and hot, and full of mutiny,
And still grows louder.—
Mas. It has been stubborn weather.
2d Gent. Strange work at sea: I fear me there's old tumbling.
1st Gent. Bless my old uncle's bark! I have a venture.
2d Gent. And I more than I'd wish to lose.
2nd Gent. Ha! how he looks!
Mas. Nay, mark him better, gentlemen.
2d Gent. Mercy upon me! how his eyes are altered!
Mas. Now, tell me how you like him; whether now
He be that perfect man you credited?
Schol. Does the sea stagger ye?
Mas. Now ye have hit the nick.
Schol. Do ye fear the billows?
1st Gent. What ails him? who has stirred him?
Schol. Be not shaken,
Nor let the singing of the storm shoot through you:
Let it blow on, blow on! Let the clouds wrestle,
And let the vapours of the earth turn mutinous;
The sea in hideous mountains rise, and tumble
Upon a dolphin's back! I'll make all tremble,
For I am Neptune!
Mas. Now, what think ye of him?
Schol. Your bark shall plow through all,
And not a surge so saucy as disturb her.
I'll see her safe; my power shall sail before her.
Down, ye angry waters all,
Ye loud whistling whirlwinds, fall!
Down, ye proud waves, ye storms cease;
I command ye, be at peace!
Fright not with your churlish notes,
Nor bruise the keel of bark that floats
No devouring fish come nigh,
Nor monster in my empery,
Once shew his head, or terror bring,
But let the weary sailor sing.
Amphitrite, with white arms,
Strike my lute, I'll sing thy charms.
Mas. He must have music now; I must observe him;
This fit will grow too full else.
Here it seems probable the following Mad Song, betwixt the
Scholar and his Mistress, was introduced. Probably the Dialogue
sustained some alterations in the action, to render the introduction
of Phillis more natural; for, in the original, the Scholar, far
from having lost his senses by being crossed in love, disclaims acquaintance
with the passion during his previous examination.
1st Gent. Is there no unkindness
You have conceived from any friend or parent,
Or scorn from what you loved?
Schol. No, truly, sir,
I never yet was master of a faith
So poor and weak to doubt my friend or kindred;
And what love is, unless it be in learning,
I think I'm ignorant.
This passage is retained in "The Pilgrim," as altered by Sir John
Vanburgh; so that it does not appear what alterations were made, to
accommodate the Song to the Scholar's previous appearance. The idea of
the character is copied from the story told by the Curate, in the First
Chapter of the Second Part of the Adventures of the Knight of La Mancha,
and applied by him to the relapse of that doughty champion.
SONG.
MUSIC WITHIN.
The Lovers enter at opposite Doors, each held by a Keeper.
Phil. Look, look, I see—I see my love appear!
'Tis he, 'tis he alone,
For like him there is none:
'Tis the dear, dear man, 'tis thee, dear.
Amyn. Hark! the winds war,
The foaming waves roar:
I see a ship afar,
Tossing and tossing, and making to the shore.
But what's that I view,
So radiant of hue,
St Hermo, St Hermo
[68], that sits upon the sails?
Ah! no, no, no.
St Hermo never, never shone so bright;
'Tis Phillis! only Phillis can shoot so fair a light;
'Tis Phillis, 'tis Phillis, that saves the ship alone,
For all the winds are hushed, and the storm is overblown.
Phil. Let me go, let me run, let me fly to his arms.
Amyn. If all the fates combine,
And all the furies join,
I'll force my way to Phillis, and break through the charm.
[Here they break from their Keepers,
run to each other, and embrace.
Phil. Shall I marry the man I love?
And shall I conclude my pains?
Now blessed be the powers above,
I feel the blood bound in my veins!
With a lively leap it began to move,
And the vapours leave my brains.
Amyn. Body joined to body, and heart joined to heart,
To make sure of the cure,
Go, call the man in black, to mumble o'er his part.
Phil. But suppose he should stay—
Amyn. At worst, if he delay,
'Tis a work must be done;
We'll borrow but a day,
And the better the sooner begun.
Cho. of both. At worst, if he delay, &c.
[They run out together, hand in hand.
THE
SECULAR MASQUE.
The moral of this emblematical representation is sufficiently
intelligible. By the introduction of the deities of the chace, of
war, and of love, as governing the various changes of the seventeenth
century, the poet alludes to the sylvan sports of James the
First, the bloody wars of his son, and the licentious gallantry
which reigned in the courts of Charles II. and James his successor.
James I. was inordinately attached to the sports of the chace:
it was indeed the only manly passion which our British Solomon
ever manifested; his dress was of the forest-green, and his only
severity was in executing the game-laws[69]. Able hunters were the
bribes by which the English courtiers endeavoured to secure his
favour[70], while he was yet but king of Scotland; and, in England,
his perpetual hunting expeditions were censured by his prelates[71],
and their oppressive duration deprecated by his subjects, who, to
render their complaints more palatable, contrived, upon one occasion,
to make a favourite hound convey a hint of the burthen,
which his long residence at a hunting seat imposed upon the
neighbourhood[72]. Even in the most advanced state of his age and
imbecility, when unable to sit on horseback without assistance, he
contrived to pursue the chace by being laced or tied up in his
saddle! When we add to this vehement passion for hunting, the
spirit of extravagant dissipation, which discharged itself "in
shows, sights, and banquetings, from morn to eve[73]," where even
the ladies abandoned their sobriety, the age of James might well
be characterised, as in the Masque,
A very merry, dancing, drinking,
Laughing, quaffing, and unthinking time.
To show how justly the middle part of the seventeenth century
was characterised, as under the influence of Mars, we have only to
mention the great civil war, which so long ravaged the whole
kingdom.
The manners of the court of Charles II., so notoriously dissolute
and licentious, when, as our author says in the Epilogue,
Whitehall the naked Venus first revealed,
amply vindicate Dryden for placing the period in which they were
fashionable under the dominion of the queen of Cyprus.
The moral, by which the whole masque is winded up, was sadly
true. The frivolity of James the First's sports would have been
admitted by the sapient monarch himself—
His sport had a beast in view.
But it is less credible, were it not a historical fact, that the
wars of Charles the First "brought nothing about;" since royal
prerogative, and popular encroachment, far from being adjusted
by so many years bloodshed, were as much themes of mutual dissention
betwixt the Court and the House of Commons in the
reign of Charles II. as during that of his father. But so bloody
a lesson was not entirely lost. The contending parties at the Revolution
lived too near that eventful period, not to be aware
of the direful consequences of civil war, and thence, by mutual
concession, were determined to avoid the repetition of similar
calamities. The nation gained by the compromise; for freedom
is always benefited by the equal balance of contending factions,
and as certainly suffers by the decided ascendancy of either.
A thousand lampoons bear witness, that, during the reign of
Venus, under the auspices of Charles II. her
——Lovers were all untrue.
The modern reader will find the most decent, and, at the same
time, the most lively record of their infidelities, in Count Hamilton's
Memoires du Compte de Grammont.
From the "Secular Masque" being performed in the beginning
of the year 1700, it appears, that, by a blunder, or rather confusion
of ideas, the century was supposed to terminate with 1699;
in other words, a hundred years were considered as accomplished
when the hundredth was just commenced:—an error of calculation
which, though it could not puzzle a horse-jockey, who, if
he was to ride twenty miles, would hardly think he had accomplished
the match by riding nineteen, did, nevertheless, find patrons
in the year 1800, though hardly any of such account as
Dryden.
The original music of the Masque was very much approved. It is
mentioned in the Travels of John Buncle. Mr Malone believes
Daniel Purcel to have been the composer. It was set anew by
Dr Boyce, and afterwards revived with success at Drury-Lane in
1749. The hunting song was long popular.
THE
SECULAR MASQUE.
Enter Janus.
Janus. Chronos, Chronos, mend thy pace;
An hundred times the rolling sun
Around the radiant belt has run
In his revolving race.
Behold, behold, the goal in sight,
Spread thy fans, and wing thy flight.
Enter Chronos, with a Scythe in his hand, and a
Globe on his back; which he sets down at his entrance.
Chronos. Weary, weary of my weight,
Let me, let me drop my freight,
And leave the world behind.
I could not bear,
Another year,
The load of humankind.
Momus. Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! well hast thou done,
To lay down thy pack,
And lighten thy back,
The world was a fool, e'er since it begun;
And since neither Janus, nor Chronos, nor I,
Can hinder the crimes,
Or mend the bad times,
'Tis better to laugh than to cry.
Cho. of all three. 'Tis better to laugh than to cry.
Janus. Since Momus comes to laugh below,
Old Time begin the show,
That he may see, in every scene,
What changes in this age have been.
Chronos. Then, goddess of the silver bow, begin.
[Horns, or hunting-music, within.]
Dia. With horns and with hounds, I waken the day,
And hie to the woodland-walks away;
I tuck up my robe, and am buskined soon,
And tie to my forehead a wexing moon.
I course the fleet stag, unkennel the fox,
And chace the wild goats o'er summits of rocks;
With shouting and hooting we pierce through the sky,
And Echo turns hunter, and doubles the cry.
Cho. of all. With shouting and hooting we pierce through the sky,
And Echo turns hunter, and doubles the cry.
Janus. Then our age was in its prime:
Diana. ——And free from crime.
Momus. A very merry, dancing, drinking,
Laughing, quaffing, and unthinking time.
Cho. of all. Then our age was in its prime,
Free from rage, and free from crime;
A very merry, dancing, drinking,
Laughing, quaffing, and unthinking time.
[Dance of Diana's Attendants.]
Mars. Inspire the vocal brass, inspire;
The world is past its infant age:
Arms and honour,
Arms and honour,
Set the martial mind on fire,
And kindle manly rage.
Mars has looked the sky to red;
And Peace, the lazy God,
[74] is fled.
Plenty, peace, and pleasure fly;
The sprightly green,
In woodland-walks, no more is seen;
The sprightly green has drunk the Tyrian dye.
Cho. of all. Plenty, peace, &c.
Mars. Sound the trumpet, beat the drum;
Through all the world around,
Sound a reveillé, sound, sound,
The warrior god is come.
Cho. of all. Sound the trumpet, &c.
Momus. Thy sword within the scabbard keep,
And let mankind agree;
Better the world were fast asleep,
Than kept awake by thee.
The fools are only thinner,
With all our cost and care;
But neither side a winner,
For things are as they were.
Cho. of all. The fools are only, &c.
Venus. Calms appear, when storms are past;
Love will have his hour at last:
Nature is my kindly care;
Mars destroys, and I repair;
Take me, take me, while you may,
Venus comes not every day.
Cho. of all. Take her, take her, &c.
Chronos. The world was then so light,
I scarcely felt the weight;
Joy ruled the day, and Love the night.
But, since the queen of pleasure left the ground,
[75]
I faint, I lag,
And feebly drag
The ponderous orb around.
Momus. All, all of a piece throughout;
Thy chace had a beast in view; [Pointing to Diana.
[To Mars.
Thy wars brought nothing about;
Thy lovers were all untrue. [To Venus.
Janus. 'Tis well an old age is out,
Chronos. And time to begin a new.
Cho. of all. All, all of a piece throughout;
Thy chace had a beast in view:—
Thy wars brought nothing about;—
Thy lovers were all untrue.—
'Tis well an old age is out,
And time to begin a new.
[Dance of Huntsmen, Nymphs, Warriors, and Lovers.
EPILOGUE
TO
THE PILGRIM.
This epilogue bears chiefly reference to the violent controversy,
which, about this time, arose between the favourers of the drama
and Jeremy Collier, who, in 1698, published "A short View of
the Immorality and Profaneness of the English Stage;"—"I believe,"
says Johnson, "with no other view, than religious zeal,
and honest indignation.[76] He was formed for a controvertist; with
sufficient learning, with diction vehement and pointed, though often
vulgar and incorrect, with unconquerable pertinacity, with wit
in the highest degree keen and sarcastic, and with all those powers
exalted and invigorated by just confidence in his cause.
"Thus qualified, and thus incited, he walked forth to battle,
and assailed, at once, most of the living writers, from Dryden to
Durfey. His onset was violent. Those passages which, while they
had stood single, had passed with little notice, when they were accumulated
and exposed together, excited horror. The wise and
the pious caught the alarm; and the nation wondered why it had
so long suffered irreligion and licentiousness to be openly taught at
the public charge."—Life of Congreve.
Dryden had his personal share of rough treatment in this indiscriminate
attack upon dramatic profligacy. But it is creditable to
him, that, whatever his feelings of resentment might be, he was too
much conscience-struck to attempt a defence of what was really
indefensible. "I shall say the less of Mr Collier, because in
many things he has taxed me justly; and I have pleaded guilty to
all thoughts and expressions of mine, which can be truly argued
of obscenity, profaneness, or immorality, and retract them. If
he be my enemy, let him triumph; if he be my friend, as I have
given him no personal occasion to be otherwise, he will be glad of
my repentance. It becomes me not to draw my pen in the defence
of a bad cause, when I have so often drawn it for a good
one." Preface to the Fables.
This candid avowal, and the coincidence of their political sentiments,
(for Collier was a rigid Non-juror,) did not save Dryden
from some oblique thrusts in an Answer published by Collier to
the Vindications of Congreve and Vanburgh, who, less patient or
prudent than our poet, had stepped forward to assert the correctness
of their dramatic writings. These passages in the "Defence
of the Short View," which was published in 1699, seem to
have incited our poet to put himself upon his defence, or at least
to offer the best apology he could, by throwing upon the gay
court of Charles the scandal of importing the open profligacy,
which the poet insists had corrupted the stage, instead of being derived
from thence. Lord Lansdowne, in a prologue to the "Jew
of Venice," when revived, took the freedom to dissent from Dryden
and Collier; and, by exculpating both the theatre and court, to
throw the whole blame upon the public at large:
Each in his turn, the poet and the priest,
Have viewed the stage, but like false prophets guessed
The man of zeal, in his religious rage,
Would silence poets and reduce the stage;
The poet, rashly to get clear, retorts
On kings the scandal, and bespatters courts.
Both err: for, without mincing, to be plain,
The guilt's your own of every odious scene;
The present time still gives the stage its mode;
The vices, that you practise, we explode.
We hold the glass, and but reflect your shame,
Like Spartans, by exposing to reclaim.
The scribbler, pinched with hunger, writes to dine,
And to your genius must conform his line;
Not lewd by choice, but merely to submit:
Would you encourage sense, sense would be writ.
There is, in every case of this kind, much partial accusation.
The court, stage, and public at large, have a mutual action and
re-action on the manners of each other. If the habits of a
court be licentious, the poet will hardly venture to paint them
noble and innocent; but it will depend upon the extent which
that licence has attained amongst his audience at large, whether
he represents the courtly vices in gay, or in disgusting and odious
colours. In any case, the dramatist, who degrades himself by indecency,
has little personal apology; for, if he has condescended
to blot his pages with filth, it avails but little where he has
gathered it.
Collier's attack on the stage was attended with good consequences,
which that active disputant lived to witness: indecencies
were no longer either fashionable or tolerated; and, by degrees,
the ladies began to fill the boxes at a new play, without either
the necessity of wearing masks, or the risk of incurring censure.
Later times have carried this laudable restraint still farther;
till, at last, if we have lost almost all the wit of our predecessors,
we at least have retained none of their licentiousness.
The following verses appear upon Dryden's death, in the "State
Poems," vol. iii. founded upon his controversy with Sir Richard
Blackmore and Collier, which so immediately preceded that
event:
John Dryden enemies had three,
Sir Dick, old Nick, and Jeremy:
The doughty knight was forced to yield,
The other two have kept the field;
But had his life been something holier,
He'd foiled the Devil and the Collier.
EPILOGUE
TO
THE PILGRIM.
Perhaps the parson stretched a point too far,
When with our theatres he waged a war.
He tells you, that this very moral age
Received the first infection from the stage;
But sure, a banished court, with lewdness fraught,
The seeds of open vice, returning, brought.
Thus lodged, (as vice by great example thrives,)
It first debauched the daughters and the wives.
London, a fruitful soil, yet never bore
So plentiful a crop of horns before.
The poets, who must live by courts, or starve,
Were proud, so good a government to serve;
And, mixing with buffoons and pimps prophane,
Tainted the stage for some small snip of gain:
For they, like harlots, under bawds profest,
Took all the ungodly pains, and got the least.
Thus did the thriving malady prevail;
The court its head, the poets but the tail.
The sin was of our native growth, 'tis true;
The scandal of the sin was wholly new.
Misses there were, but modestly concealed;
Whitehall the naked Venus first revealed,
Who standing as at Cyprus in her shrine,
The strumpet was adored with rites divine.
Ere this, if saints had any secret motion,
'Twas chamber-practice all, and close devotion.
I pass the peccadillos of their time;
Nothing but open lewdness was a crime.
A monarch's blood was venial to the nation,
Compared with one foul act of fornication
[77].
Now, they would silence us, and shut the door
That let in all the bare-faced vice before.
}
{ As for reforming us, which some pretend,
{ That work in England is without an end;
{ Well may we change, but we shall never mend.
Yet, if you can but bear the present stage,
We hope much better of the coming age.
}
{ What would you say, if we should first begin
{ To stop the trade of love behind the scene,
{ Where actresses make bold with married men?
For while abroad so prodigal the dolt is,
Poor spouse at home as ragged as a colt is.
In short, we'll grow as moral as we can,
Save, here and there, a woman or a man;
But neither you, nor we, with all our pains,
Can make clean work; there will be some remains,
While you have still your Oates
[78] and we our Haines
[79].