Neptune's Triumph for the Return of Albion

NEPTVNES TRIVMPH . COOKE . Then , Brother Poet , POET. Brother . COOKE . I haue a suite . POET. What is it ? COOKE . Your deuise . POET. As you came in vpon me , I was then Offring the argument , and this it is . COOKE . Silence . POET. The mightie Neptune , mightie in his styles , And large command of waters , and of Isles , Not , as the Lord and Soueraigne of the Seas , But , Chiefe in the art of riding , late did please To send his Albion forth , the most his owne , Vpon discouery , to themselues best knowne , Through Celtiberia ; and , to assist his course , Gaue him his powerfull e MANAGER of Horse , With diuine Proteus , Father of disguise , To waite vpon them with his counsels wise , In all extremes . His great commands being done , And he desirous to review his Sonne , He doth dispatch a floting I le , from hence , Vnto the Hesperian shores , to waft him thence . Where , what the arts were , vsde to make him stay , And how the Syrens woo'd him , by the way , What Monsters he encountred on the coast , How neare our generall Ioy was to be lost , Is not our subiect now : though all these make The present gladnesse greater , for their sake . But what the triumphs are , the feast , the sport , And proud solemnities of Neptunes Court , Now he is safe , and Fame 's not heard in vaine , But we behold our happie pledge againe . That with him , loyall HIPPIVS is returnd , Who for it , vnder so much envie , burnd With his owne brightnes , till her steru'd snakes saw What Neptune did impose , to him was law . COOKE . But , why not this , till now ? POET. â�� It was not time , To mixe this Musick with the vulgars chime . Stay , till th' abortiue , and extemporall dinne Of balladry , were vnderstood a sinne , Minerua cry'd : that , what tumultuous verse , Or prose could make , or steale , they might reherse , And euery Songster had sung out his fit ; That all the Countrey , and the Citie-wit , Of bels , and bonfires , and good cheere was spent , And Neptunes Guard had drunk al that they meant ; That all the tales and stories now were old Of the Sea-Monster Archy , or growne cold : The Muses then might venter , vndeterr'd , For they loue , then , to sing , when they are heard . COOKE . I like it well , t is handsome : And I haue Some thing wold fit this . How do you present 'hem ? In a fine Iland , say you ? POET. Yes , a f Delus : Such , as when faire Latena fell in trauaile , Great Neptune made emergent . COOKE . I conceive you . I would haue had your I le brought floting in , now In a braue broth , and of a sprightly greene , Iust to the colour of the Sea ; and then , Some twentie Syrens , singing in the kettel , With an Arion , mounted on the backe Of a growne Conger , but in such a posture , As , all the world should take him for a Dolphin : O , 't would ha' made such musick ! Ha' you nothing , But a bare Island ? POET. Yes , we haue a tree too , Which we do call the Tree of Harmonie , And is the same with g what we read , the Sunne Brought forth in the Indian Musicana first , And thus it growes . The goodly bole , being got To certaine cubits height , from euery side The boughs decline , which taking roote afresh , Spring vp new boles , & those spring new , & newer , Till the whole tree become a Porticus , Or arched Arbour , able to receiue A numerous troupe , such as our Albion , And the Companions of his iourney are . And this they sit in COOKE . Your prime Masquers ? POET. Yes . COOKE . But where 's your Antimasque now , all this while ? I hearken after them . POET. Faith , we haue none . COOKE . None ? POET. None , I assure you , neither do I think them A worthy part of presentation , Being things so heterogene , to all deuise , Meere By-works , and at best Out-landish nothings . COOKE . O , you are all the heauen awrie ! Sir . For blood of Poetry , running in your veines , Make not your selfe so ignorantly simple . Bycause Sir , you shall see I am a Poet , No lesse then Cooke , and that I find you want A speciall service here , an Antimasque , I le fit you with a dish out of the Kitchin , Such , as I thinke , will take the present palates , A metaphoricall dish ! And , do but mark , How a good wit may iump with you . Are you ready , Child ? ( Had there bin Maske , or no Maske , I had made it . ) Child of the boyling house . CHILD . Here , Father . COOKE . Bring forth the pot . It is an Olla Podrida , But I haue persons , to present the meates . POET. Persons ! COOKE . Such as doe relish nothing , but di stato , ( But in another fashion , then you dreame of ) Know all things the wrong way , talk of the affaires , The clouds , the cortines , and the mysteries That are afoot , and , froÌ� what hands they haue 'hem ( The master of the Elephant , or the Camels ) What correspondences are held ; the Posts That go , & come , and know , almost , their minutes , All but their businesse : Therein , they are fishes . But ha' their garlick , as the Prouerb sayes , They are our Quest of enquiry , after newes . POET. Together with their learned Authors ? CHILD . Yes Sir , And of the Epicoene gender , Hee s , and Shee s : Amphibion Archy is the chiefe . COOKE . Good boy ! The Child is learned too . Note but the Kitchin . Haue you put him , into the pot , for Garlick ? CHILD . One in his coate , shall stinke as strong as he , Sir , And his friend Giblets with him . COOKE . They are two , That giue a part of the seasoning . POET. I conceiue The way of your Gally-mawfrey . COOKE . You will like it , When they come powring out of the pot together . CHILD . O , if the pot had been big enough ! COOKE . What then , Child ? CHILD . I had put in the Elephant , and one Camell , at least , for Biefe . COOKE . But , whom ha' you for Partrich ? CHILD . A brace of Dwarfes , and delicate plump birds ! COOKE . And whom for Mutton , and Kid ? CHILD . A fine lac'd Mutton , Or two ; and either has her frisking Husband : That reades her the Corrantos , euery weeke . Graue Mr Ambler , Newes-master of Poules , Supplies your Capon ; and growne Captaine Buz ( His Emissary ) vnderwrites for Turky , A Gentleman of the Forrest presents Phesant , And a plump Poultrers wife , in Graces street , Playes Hen with egges i' the belly , or a Cony , Choose which you will . COOKE . But , where 's the Bacon , Thom ? CHILD . Hogrel the Butcher , and the Sow his wife , Are both there . COOKE . It is well , go , dish 'hem out . Are they well boyld ? CHILD . Podrida ! POET. What 's that ? rotten ? COOKE . O , that they must be . There 's one maine ingredient We haue forgot , the Artichoke . CHILD . No Sir . I haue a Fruicterer , with a cold red nose , Like a blue fig , performes it . COOKE . The fruit lookes so . Good child , go poure heÌ� out , shew their concoctioÌ� . They must be rotteÌ� boyld , the broth 's the best on 't , And that 's the Dance . The stage here is the Charger . And Brother Poet , though the serious part Be yours , yet , envie not the Câ�� his art . POET. Not I . Nam lusis ipse Triumphus amat .

The Antimaske is daunc'd by the persons describ'd , comming out of the pot .

POET. Well , now , expect the Scene it selfe ; it opens !

The Iland is discovered , the Masquers sitting in their severall sieges . The heavens opening , and Apollo , with Mercury , some Muses , & the Goddesse Harmony , make the musique . the while , the Iland moues forward , Proteus sitting below , and APOLLO sings .

Song . APOLLO . Looke forth , the ( h ) Shephard of the seas , And ( i ) of the Ports , that keep'st the keyes , And to your Neptune tell , His ALBION , Prince of all his Isles , For whome the sea , and land so smiles , Is home returned well . CHORVS . And be it thought no common Cause , That , to it , so much wonder drawes , And all the Hea'uens consent , With HARMONY , to tune their notes , In answer to the publique votes That , for it , vp were sent . It was no envious Stepdames rage , Or Tyrans malice of the age , That did employ him forth . But such a Wisdome , that would proue , By sending him , their hearts , and loue That else might feare his worth .

By this time , the Island hath joynd it selfe with the shore : And Proteus , Portunus , and k Saron ; come forth , and goe vp singing to the State , while the Masquers take time to Land .

Song . PROTHEVS . I ! now the Pompe of Neptunes triumph shines ! And all the glories of his great designes Are read , reflected , in his sonnes returne ! PORTVNVS . How all the eyes , the lookes , the hearts here , burne at his arriuall ! SARON . These are the true fires , Are made of ioyes ! PROTEVS . Of longings ! PORTVNVS . Of desires ! SARON . Of hopes ! PROTEVS . Of feares ! PORTVNVS . Not intermitted blocks . SARON . But pure affections , and from odorous stocks ! CHORVS . T is incense all , that flames ! And these materials scarce haue names ! PROTEVS . My King lookes higher , as he scornd the warres Of winds , and with his trident touchd the starrs . There is no wrinkle , in his brow , or frowne , But , as his cares he would in nectar drowne , And all the ( l ) siluer-footed Nymphs were drest , To wayte vpon him , to the Oceans feast . PORTVNVS . Or , here in rowes vpon the bankes were set , And had their seuerall hayres made into net To catch the youths in , as they come on shore . SARON . How ! Galatea sighing ! O , no more . Banish your feares . PORTVNVS , And Doris dry your teares . Albion is come : PORTEVS . And ( m ) Haliclyon , too , That kept his side , as he was charg'd to do , With wonder . SARON . â�� And the Syrens haue him not . PORTVNVS . Though they no practise , nor no arts forgot That might haue wonne him , or by charme , or song . PROTEVS . Or laying forth their tresses all along Vpon the glassie waues ; PORTVNVS . Then diuing : PROTEVS . Then , Vp with their heads , as they were mad of men . SARON . And there , the highest-going billowes crowne , Vntill some lusty Sea-god pull'd them downe , CHORVS . See! He is here ! PROTEVS . Great Master of the mayne , Receiue thy deare , and precious pawne againe . CHORVS . SAKON , PORTVNVS , PROTEVS bring him thus , Safe , as thy Subiects wishes gaue him vs : And of thy glorious Triumph let it be No losse a part , that thou their loues doest see , Then , that his sacred hea'd 's return'd to thet .

This sung , the Island goes backe , whilst the vpper Chorus takes it from them , and the Masquers prepare for their figure .

CHORVS . Spring all the Graces of the age , And all the Loues of time ; Bring all the pleasures of the stage , And relishes of rime : Adde all the softnesses of Courts The lockes , the laughters , and the sports . And mingle all their sweets , and salts , That none may say , the Triumph halts .

Here , the Masquers dance their Entry .

Which done , the first prospectiue of a maritime Palace , or the house of Oceanus is discovered , with lowd Musique .

And the other aboue is no more seene .

POET. Behold the Palace of Oceanus ! Hayle Reverend structure ! Boast no more to vs Thy being able , all the Gods to feast ; We haue seene enough : our Albion was thy guest .

Then followes the Maine Dance .

After which the second prospect of the sea , is showne , to the former Musique .

POET. Now turne and view the wonders of the deepe , Where Proteus heards , and Neptunes orkes do keep , Where all is plough'd , yet still the pasture greene The wayes are found , and yet no path is seene ,

There Proteus , Portunus , Saron , goe vp to the Ladies with this Song .

PROTEVS . Come noble Nymphs , and doe not hide The ioyes , for which you so prouide : SARON . If not to mingle with the men , What doe you here ? Go home agen . PORTVNVS . Your dressings doe confesse By what we see so curious parts Of Pallas , and Arachnes arts , That you could meane no lesse . PROTEVS . Why doe you were the Silkewormes toyles ; Or glory in the shellfish spoiles ? Or striue to shew the graines of ore That you haue gatherd on the shore , Whereof to make a stocke To graft the greener Emerald on Or any better-waterd stone ? SARON . Or Ruby of the rocke ? PROTEVS . Why do you smell of Ambergris , Of which was formed Neptunes Neice , The Queene of Loue ; vnlesse you can Like Sea-borne Venus loue a man ? SARON . Try , put your selues vnto 't . CHORVS . Your lookes your smiles , and thoughts that meete , Ambrosian hands , and siluer feete , doe promise you will do 't .

The Reuels follow .

Which ended , the Fleete is discouered , while the three Cornets play .

POET. 'T is time , your eyes should be refresh'd at length Which something new , a part of Neptunes strength See , yond , his fleete , ready to goe , or come , Or fetch the riches of the Ocean home , So to secure him both in peace , and warres , Till not one ship alone , but all be starres .

A shout within followes .

After which the Cooke enters .

COOKE .

I haue another seruice fer you , Brother Poet , a dish of pickled Saylors , fine salt Sea-boyes , shall relish like Anchoues , or Caueare , to draw downe a cup of nectar , in the skirts of a night .

SAYLORS .

Come away boyes , the Towne is ours , hay for Neptune , and our young Master .

POET. He knowes the Compasse and the Card , While Castor sits on the maine yard , And Pollux too , to helpe your sayles ; And bright Leucothoe , fils your sayles : Arion sings , the Dolphins swim , And , all the way , to gaze on him .

The Antimasque of Saylors .

The last Song to the whole Musique , fiue Lutes , three Cornets , and ten voyces .

Song . PROTEVS . Although we wish the Triumph still might last For such a Prince , and his discouery past , Yet now , great Lord of waters , and of Isles , Giue Proteus leaue to turne vnto his wiles : PORTVNVS . And , whilst young Albion doth thy labours ease , Dispatch Portunus to thy ports , SARON . And Saron to thy Seas : To meete old Nereus , with his fiftie girles , From aged Indus laden home with pearls , And orient gummes , to burne vnto thy name . CHORVS . And may thy Subiects hearts be all on flame : Whilst thou dost keepe the earth in firme estate , And , 'mongst the winds , dost suffer no debate . But both at sea , and land , our powers increase , With health , and all the golden gifts of peace .

The last Dance .

The end .