^aCHROMIS, ^b MNASYL? None appeare?

See you not, who riseth here?

^cYou saw SILENVS, late, I feare!

I'le proue, if this can reach your eare.

O, you wake then: Come away,

Times be short, are made for play;

The hum'rous Moone too will not stay:

What doth make you thus delay?

^d Hath his tankard touch'd your braine?

Sure, they' ar falne asleepe againe:

Or I doubt it was the vaine

Echo, did me entertaine.

Proue againe. I thought 'twas shee.

Idle Nymph, I pray thee, bee

Modest, and not follow me:

^eI nor loue my selfe, nor thee.

I, this sound I better know:

List! I would I could heare mo.

Thanke vs, and you shall doe so.

I, our number soone will grow.

See ^a SILENVS!

CERCOPS, too!

Yes. What is there now to doe?

Are there any Nymphes to woo?

^b If there bee, let mee haue two.

^c Chaster language. These are nights

Solemne, to the shining rites

Of the Fayrie Prince, and Knights:

While the Moone their Orgies lights.

Will they come abroad, anon?

Shall wee see yong OBERON?

Is hee such a princely one,

As you speake him long agone?

Satyres, he doth sill with grace,

Euery season, en'ry place;

Beautie dwels, but in his face:

^d H' is the height of all our race.

Our PAN'S father,^a god of tongue,

BACCHVS, though he still be yong,

PHŒBVS,^b when he crowned sung,

Nor MARS ^c, when first his armor rung,

Might with him be nam'd, that day.

He is louelier, then in May

Is the Spring, and there can stay'

As little, as he can decay.

O, that he would come away!

^d Grandsire, we shall leaue to play

With ^e LYÆVS now; and serue

Only OB'RON?

Hee'le deserue

All you can, and more, my boyes.

Will he giue vs prettie toyes,

To beguile the girles withall?

And to make 'hem quickly fall?

Peace my wantons: he will doe

More, then you can aime vnto.More, then you can aime vnto.

Will he build vs larger caues?

Yes, and giue you yuorie staues,

When you hunt; and better wine:

Then the master of the Vine?

And rich prizes, to be wunne,

When we leape, or when we runne?

I, and gild our clouen feet?

Strew our heads with poulders

sweet?

Bind our crooked legges in hoopes

Made of shells, with siluer loopes?Made of shels, with siluer loopes?

Tie about our tawnie wrists

Bracelets of the Fairie twists?

And, to spight the coy Nymphes

(scornes,

Hang vpon our stubbed hornes,

Garlands, ribbands, and fine poesies;

Fresh, as when the flower discloses?

Yes, and stick our pricking eares

With the pearle that Tethys weares.

And to answere all things els,

Trap our shaggie thighs with bels;

That as we do strike a time,

In our daunce, shall make a chime

Lowder, then the rattling pipes

Of the wood-gods;

Or the stripes

^*Of the Taber; when we carrie

BACCHVS vp, his pompe to varie.

O, that he so long doth tarrie!

See, the rocke begins to ope,

Now you shall enioy your hope;

'Tis about the houre, I know.

Looke! Do's not his Palace show

Like another Skie of lights?

Yonder, with him, liue the knights,

Once, the noblest of the earth,

Quick'ned by a second birth;

Who, for prowesse, and for truth,

There are crownd with lasting youth:

And do hold, by Fates command,

Seats of blisse in Fairie land.

But their guards (me thinks) do sleep!

Let vs wake 'hem. Sirs, you keepe

Proper watch, that thus doe lye

Drown'd in sloth.

They'ha'ne're an eye

To wake withall.

Nor sence, I feare;

For they sleepe in either eare.

Holla, Syluanes! Sure, they'ar'caues

Of sleepe, these; or els they'ar'graues!

Heare you, friends, who keepes the

keepers?

They'are the eight & ninth sleepers?

Shall we crampe 'hem?

SATYRES, no.

Would we'had Boreas here, to blow

Off their leauie coats, and strip 'hem.

I, I, I; that we might whip 'hem.

Or, that w' had a waspe, or two

For their nostrills.

Hayres will doe

Euen as well: Take my tayle.

What do'you say t'a good nayle

Through their temples?

Or an eele,

In their guts, to make 'hem feele?

Shall wee steale away their beards?

For PANS goat, that leads the herds?

Or trie, whether is more dead,

His club, or the' others head.

Wags, no more: you grow too bold.

I would faine, now, see 'hem rol'd

Downe a hill, or from a bridge

Headlong cast, to break their ridge-

Bones: or to some riuer take 'hem;

Plump: and see, if that would wake

('hem.

There no motion, yet, appeares.

Strike a charme into their eares.

Buz, quoth the blue Flie,

Hum, quoth the Bee:

Buz, and hum, they crie,

And so doe wee.

In his eare, in his nose,

Thus, doe you see?

He eat the dormouse,

Else it was hee.

How now, Syluanes! can you wake?

I commend the care you take

I'your watch. Is this your guise

To haue both your eares, and eyes

Seal'd so fast; as these mine Elues

Might haue stolne you, from your

(selues?

We had thought we must haue got

Stakes, and heated 'hem red-hot,

And hauebor'd you, thrugh the eies

(With the ^*Cyclops) e're you'ld rise.

Or haue fetch'd some trees, to heaue

Vp your bulkes, that so did cleaue

To the ground, there.

Are you free

Yet of sleepe, and can you see

Who is yonder vp, aloofe?

Be your eyes, yet, Moone-proofe?

Satyres, leaue your petulance;

And goe friske about, and dance;

Or else raile vpon the moone:

Your expectance is too soone.

For before the second cock

Crow, the gates will not vnlock.

And, till then, we know we keepe

Guard enough, although we sleepe.

Say you so? then let vs fall

To a song, or to a brawle:

Shall we, grand sire? Let vs sport,

And make expectation short.

Doe my wantons, what you please.

Ile lie downe, and take mine ease.

Brothers, sing then, and vpbraid

(As we vse) yond' seeming maid.

NOw, my eunning lady; Moone,

Cā you leaue the side, so soone,

Of the boy, you keepe so hid?

Mid-wife IVNO sure will say,

This is not the proper way

Of your palenesse to be rid.

But, perhaps, it is your grace

To weare sicknesse i'your face,

That there might be wagers laid,

Still, by fooles, you are a maid.

Come, your changes ouerthrow,

What your looke would carry so;

Moone, confesse then, what you are.

And be wise, and free to vse

Pleasures, that you now doe loose;

Let vs Satyres haue a share.

Though our forms be rough & rude

Yet our acts may be endew'd

With more vertue: Euerie one

Cannot be ENDYMION.

STay, the cheerefull Chanticleere

Tels you, that the time is neere:

See, the gates alreadie spread!

Euerie Satyre bow his head.

MElt earth to sea, sea flow to aire,

And aire flie into fire,

Whil'st we, in tunes, to ARTHVRS chaire

Beare OBERONS desire;

Then which there nothing can be higher,

Saue IAMES, to whom it flies:

But he the wonder is of tongues, of eares, of eies.

Who hath not heard, who hath not beene;

Who hath not sung his name?

The soule, that hath not, hath not beene;

But is the verie same

With buried sloth, and knowes not fame,

Which doth him best comprise:

For he the wonder is of tongues, of eares, of eies.

GIue place, and silence; you were rude too late:

This is a night of greatnesse, and of state;

Not to be mixt with light, and skipping sport:

A night of homage to the British court,

And ceremony, due to ARTHVRS chaire,

From our bright master, OBERON the faire:

Who, with these knights, attendants, here preseru'd

In Faery land, for good they haue deseru'd

Of yond' high throne, are come of right to pay

Their annuall vowes; and all their glories lay

At feet, and tender to this only great,

True maiestie, restored in this seate:

To whose sole power, and magick they doe giue

The honor of their being; that they liue

Sustayn'd in forme, fame, and felicitie,

From rage of fortune, or the feare to die.

ANd may they well. For this indeed is hee,

My boyes, whom you must quake at, when you see.

He is aboue your reach; and neither doth,

Nor can he thinke, within a Satyres tooth:

Before his presence, you must fall, or flie.

He is the matter of vertue, and plac'd high.

His meditations, to his height, are euen:

And all their issue is a kin to heauen.

He is a god, o're kings; yet stoupes he then

Neerest a man, when he doth gouerne men;

To teach them by the sweetnesse of his sway,

And not by force. H' is such a king, as thay,

Who' are tyrannes subiects, or ne're tasted peace,

Would, in their wishes, forme, for their release.

'Tis he, that stayes the time from turning old,

And keepes the age vp in a head of gold.

That in his owne true circle, still doth runne;

And holds his course, as certayne as the sunne.

He makes it euer day, and euer spring,

Where he doth shine, and quickens euery thing

Like a new nature: so, that true to call

Him, by his title, is to say, Hee's all.

I Thanke, the wise SILENVS, for this prayse.

Stand forth, bright Faies, and Elues, and tune your layes

Vnto his name: Then let your nimble feet

Tread subtle circles, that may alwayes meet

In point to him; and figures, to expresse

The grace of him, and his great empresse.

That All, that shall to night behold the rites,

Perform'd by princely OBERON, and these knights,

May, without stop, point out the proper hayre

Design'd so long to ARTHVRS crownes, and chayre.

SEeke you maiestie, to strike?

Bid the world produce his like.

Seeke you glorie, to amaze?

Here, let all eyes stand at gaze.

Seeke you wisedome, to inspire?

Touch, then, at no others fire.

Seeke you wisedome, to inspire?

Touch, then, at no others fire.

Seeke you knowledge, to direct?

Trust to his, without suspect.

Seeke you pietie, to lead?

In his foot-steps, only, tread.

Euery vertue of a king,

And of all, in him, we sing.

THe solemne rites are well begunne;

And, though but lighted by the moone,

They shew as rich, as if the sunne

Had made this night his noone.

But may none wonder, that they are so bright,

The moone now borrowes from a greater light:

Then, princely OBERON,

Goe on,

This is not euery night.

NAy, nay,

You must not stay,

Nor be weary, yet;

This's no time to cast away;

Or, for Faies so to forget

The vertue of their feet.

Knottie legs, and plants of clay

Seeke for ease, or loue delay.

But with you it still should fare

As, with the ayre of which you are.

NOr yet, nor yet, O you in this night blest,

Must you haue will, or hope to rest.

If you vse the smallest stay,

You'll be ouertane by day.

And these beauties will suspect

That their formes you doe neglect,

If you doe not call them forth:

Or that you haue no more worth

Then the course, and countrey Faerie,

That doth haunt the harth, or dairie.

GEntle Knights,

Know some measure of your nights.

Tell the high-grac'd OBERON,

It is time, that we were gone.

Here be formes, so bright, and ayrie,

And their motions so they varie

As they will enchant the Faerie,

If you longer, here, should tarrie.

TO rest, to rest; The Herald of the day,

Bright PHOSPHORVS commands you hence; Obay.

The M__oone is pale, and spent; and winged night

Makes head-long haste, to flie the mornings sight:

Who, now, is rising from her blushing warres,

And, with her rosie hand, puts backe the starres.

Of which my selfe, the last, her harbinger,

But stay, to warne you, that you not defer

Your parting longer. Then, doe I giue way,

As night hath done, and so must you, to day.

O Yet, how early, and before her time,

The enuious Morning vp doth clime,

Though shee not loue her bed!

What haste the iealous Sunne doth make,

His fierie horses vp to take,

And once more shew his head!

Lest, taken with the brightnesse of this night,

The world should wish it last, and neuer misse his light.