The Inner Temple Masque, The - Second Scene
THE SECOND SCENE While Circe was speaking her first speech, and at these words , " Yond stands a hill, &c., " a traverse was drawn at the lower end of the hall, and gave way for the discovery of an artificial wood so near imitating nature that I think, had there been a grove like it in the open plain, birds would have been faster drawn to that than to Zeuxis' grapes. The trees stood at the climbing of an hill, and left at their feet a little plain, which they circled like a crescent. In this space upon hillocks were seen eight musicians in crimson taffety robes, with chaplets of laurel on their heads, their lutes by them, which being by them touched as a warning to the nymphs of the wood, from among the trees was heard this Song. . . .
The S ONG IN THE W OOD .
W HAT sing the sweet birds in each grove?
Nought but love.
What sound our echoes day and night?
All delight.
What doth each wind breathe as it fleets?
Endless sweets.
C HORUS .
Is there a place on earth this Isle excels,
Or any nymphs more happy live than we?
When all bur songs, our sounds, and breathings be,
ThaThere all love, delight, and sweetness dwells. By this time Circe and the sirens being come into the wood , Ulysses was seen lying as asleep, under the covert of a fair tree, towards whom Circe coming bespake thus : —
C IRCE .
Yet holds soft sleep his course. Now, Ithacus,
Ajax would offer hecatombs to us,
And Ilium's ravish'd wives, and childless sires,
With incense dim the bright ethereal fires,
To have thee bound in chains of sleep as here;
But that thou may'st behold, and know how dear
Thou art to Circe, with my magic deep
And powerful verses thus I banish sleep.
The Charm .
Son of Erebus and Night,
Hie away; and aim thy flight
Where consort none other fowl
Than the bat and sullen owl;
Where upon the limber grass
Poppy and mandragoras
With like simples not a few
Hang for ever drops of dew.
Where flows Lethe without coil
Softly like a stream of oil.
Hie thee thither, gentle Sleep:
With this Greek no longer keep.
Thrice I charge thee by my wand;
Thrice with moly from my hand
Do I touch Ulysses' eyes,
And with the jaspis: Then arise,
Sagest Greek. . . . . Ulysses ( as by the power of Circe) awaking thus began :
U LYSSES .
. . . . Thou more than mortal maid,
Who when thou lists canst make, as if afraid,
The mountains tremble and with terror shake
The seat of Dis; and from Avernus' lake
Grim Hecate with all the Furies bring
To work revenge, or to thy questioning
Disclose the secrets of th' infernal shades,
Or raise the ghosts that walk the under-glades!
To thee, whom all obey, Ulysses bends.
But may I ask, great Circe, whereto tends
Thy never-failing hand? Shall we be free?
Or must thine anger crush my mates and me?
C IRCE .
Neither, Laertes' son: with wings of love
To thee, and none but thee, my actions move.
My art went with thee and thou me may'st thank
In winning Rhesus' horses ere they drank
Of Xanthus' stream; and when with human gore
Clear Hebrus' channel was all stained o'er;
When some brave Greeks, companions then with thee,
Forgot their country through the lotus-tree;
I tyn'd the firebrand that (beside thy flight)
Left Polyphemus in eternal night;
And lastly to Æaea brought thee on,
Safe from the man-devouring Laestrigon.
This for Ulysses' love hath Circe done,
And if to live with me thou shalt be won
Aurora's hand shall never draw away
The sable veil that hides the gladsome day,
But we new pleasures will begin to taste,
And, better still, those we enjoyed last.
To instance what I can: Music, thy voice,
And of all those have felt our wrath the choice
Appear; and in a dance 'gin that delight
Which with the minutes shall grow infinite. Here one attired like a woodman in all points came forth of the wood and going towards the stage sung this song to call away the first Antimasque .
S ONG .
C OME ye whose horns the cuckold wears,
The witol too with asses' ears;
Let the wolf leave howling,
The baboon his scowling,
And Grillus hie
Out of his sty.
Though grunting, though barking, though braying, ye come,
We'll make ye dance quiet and so send ye home.
No gin shall share you,
Nor mastive scare you,
Nor learn the baboon's tricks,
Nor Grillus scoff
From the hog trough,
But turn again unto the thicks.
Here's none ('tis hop'd) so foolish scorns
That any else should wear the horns;
Here's no cur with howling,
Nor an ape with scowling,
Shall mock or moe
At what you show.
In jumping, in skipping, in turning, or ought
You shall do to please us, how well or how nought.
If there be any
Among this many,
Whom such an humour steers,
May he still lie
In Grillus' sty,
Or wear for ever the asses' ears. While the first staff of this song was singing out of the thickets on either side the boscage came rushing the Antimasque, being such as by Circe were supposed to have been transformed (having the minds of men still) into these shapes following:
2. With parts, heads and bodies as Actaeon is pictur'd.
2. Like Midas with asses' ears.
2. Like wolves as Lycaon is drawn.
2. Like baboons.
Grillus (of whom Plutarch writes in his Morals) in the shape of a hog. These together dancing an antic measure towards the latter end of it missed Grillus, who was newly slipped away, and whilst they were at a stand, wondering what was become of him, the woodman stepped forth and sung this song:
S ONG .
G RILLUS is gone; belike he hath heard
The dairy-maid knock at the trough in the yard:
Through thick and thin he wallows,
And weighs nor depths nor shallows.
Hark how he whines!
Run all ere he dines;
Then serve him a trick
For being so quick,
And let him for all his pains
Behold you turn clean off
His trough,
And spill all his wash and his grains, With this the triplex of their tune was played twice or thrice over, and by turns brought them from the stage; when the woodman sung this other staff of the last song, and then ran after them:
And now 'tis wish'd that all such as he
Were rooting with him at the trough or the tree.
Fly, fly, from our pure fountains,
To the dark vales or the mountains.
List, some one whines
With voice like a swine's,
As angry that none
With Grillus is gone,
Or thaThe is left behind.
O let there be no stay
In his way,
To hinder the boar from his kind.
C IRCE .
How likes Ulysses this?
U LYSSES .
. . . . Much like to one
Who in a shipwreck being cast upon
The frothy shores, and safe beholds his mates
Equally cross'd by Neptune and the Fates.
You might as well have ask'd how I would like
A strain, whose equal Orpheus could not strike,
Upon a harp whose strings none other be
Than of the heart of chaste Penelope.
O let it be enough that thou in these
Hast made most wretched Laertiades:
Let not the sad chance of distressed Greeks
With other tears than Sorrow's dew your cheeks!
Most abject baseness hath enthrall'd that breast
Which laughs at men by misery oppress'd.
C IRCE .
In this, as lilies, or the new-fall'n snow,
Is Circe spotless yet. What though the bow,
Which Iris bends, appearing to each sight
In various hues and colours infinite,
The learned know that in itself is free,
And light and shade make that variety?
Things far off seen seem not the same they are;
Fame is not ever truth's discoverer;
For still where envy meeteth a report
Ill she makes worse, and what is good come short.
In whatsoe'er this land hath passive been,
Or she thaThere o'er other reigneth queen,
Let wise Ulysses judge. Some, I confess,
That tow'rds this Isle not long since did address
Their stretched oars, no sooner landed were,
But, careless of themselves, they here and there
Fed on strange fruits, envenoming their bloods,
And now like monsters range about the woods.
If those thy maies were, yet is Circe free:
For their misfortunes have not birth from me.
Who in th' apothecary's shop hath ta'en,
WhilsThe is wanting, that which breeds his bane,
Should never blame the man who there had plac'd it,
But his own folly urging him to taste it.
U LYSSES .
Æaea's Queen and great Hyperion's pride,
Pardon misdoubts; and we are satisfied.
C IRCE .
Swifter the lightning comes not from above,
Than do our grants borne on the wings of love.
And since what's past doth not Ulysses please,
Call to a dance the fair nereides,
With other nymphs which do in every creek,
In woods, on plains, on mountains, simples seek
For powerful Circe, and let in a song
Echoes be aiding, that they may prolong
My now command to each place where they be,
To bring them hither all more speedily. Presently in the wood was heard a full music of lutes, which descending to the stage had to them sung this following song, the Echoes being placed in several parts of the boscage:
S ONG .
C IRCE bids you come away.
Echo: Come away, come away.
From the rivers, from the sea.
Echo: From the sea, from the sea.
From the green woods every one.
Echo: Every one, everyone.
Of her maids be missing none.
Echo: Missing none, missing none.
No longer stay, except it be to bring
A med'cine for love's sting.
That would excuse you and be held more dear
Than wit or magic, for both they are here.
Echo: They are here, they are here. The Echo had no sooner answered to the last line of the song . They are here, but the second Antimasque came in, being seven nymphs, and were thus attired:
Nereides nymphaeque simul quae vellera motis
Nulla trahunt digitis, nec fila sequentia ducunt,
Gramina disponunt; sparsosque sine ordine flores
Secernunt calathis, variisque coloribus herbas.
Ipsa, quod hae faciunt, opus exigit — These having danced a most curious measure to a softer tune than the first Antimasque (as most fitting) returned as they came; the nereides towards the cliffs and the other maids of Circe towards the woods and plains, after which Ulysses, thus:
U LYSSES .
Fame adds not to thy joys, I see in this,
But like a high and stately pyramis
Grows least at farthest. Now, fair Circe, grant,
Although the fair-hair'd Greeks do never vaunt,
That they in measur'd paces ought have done.
But where the god of battles led them on;
Give leave that (freed from sleep) the small remain
Of my companions on the under plain
May in a dance strive how to pleasure thee
Either with skill or with variety.
C IRCE .
Circe is pleas'd. Ulysses, take my wand
And from their eyes each child of sleep command;
Whilst my choice maids with their harmonious voices,
Whereat each bird and dancing spring rejoices,
Charming the winds when they contrary meet,
Shall make their spirits as nimble as their feet.
The S ONG IN THE W OOD .
W HAT sing the sweet birds in each grove?
Nought but love.
What sound our echoes day and night?
All delight.
What doth each wind breathe as it fleets?
Endless sweets.
C HORUS .
Is there a place on earth this Isle excels,
Or any nymphs more happy live than we?
When all bur songs, our sounds, and breathings be,
ThaThere all love, delight, and sweetness dwells. By this time Circe and the sirens being come into the wood , Ulysses was seen lying as asleep, under the covert of a fair tree, towards whom Circe coming bespake thus : —
C IRCE .
Yet holds soft sleep his course. Now, Ithacus,
Ajax would offer hecatombs to us,
And Ilium's ravish'd wives, and childless sires,
With incense dim the bright ethereal fires,
To have thee bound in chains of sleep as here;
But that thou may'st behold, and know how dear
Thou art to Circe, with my magic deep
And powerful verses thus I banish sleep.
The Charm .
Son of Erebus and Night,
Hie away; and aim thy flight
Where consort none other fowl
Than the bat and sullen owl;
Where upon the limber grass
Poppy and mandragoras
With like simples not a few
Hang for ever drops of dew.
Where flows Lethe without coil
Softly like a stream of oil.
Hie thee thither, gentle Sleep:
With this Greek no longer keep.
Thrice I charge thee by my wand;
Thrice with moly from my hand
Do I touch Ulysses' eyes,
And with the jaspis: Then arise,
Sagest Greek. . . . . Ulysses ( as by the power of Circe) awaking thus began :
U LYSSES .
. . . . Thou more than mortal maid,
Who when thou lists canst make, as if afraid,
The mountains tremble and with terror shake
The seat of Dis; and from Avernus' lake
Grim Hecate with all the Furies bring
To work revenge, or to thy questioning
Disclose the secrets of th' infernal shades,
Or raise the ghosts that walk the under-glades!
To thee, whom all obey, Ulysses bends.
But may I ask, great Circe, whereto tends
Thy never-failing hand? Shall we be free?
Or must thine anger crush my mates and me?
C IRCE .
Neither, Laertes' son: with wings of love
To thee, and none but thee, my actions move.
My art went with thee and thou me may'st thank
In winning Rhesus' horses ere they drank
Of Xanthus' stream; and when with human gore
Clear Hebrus' channel was all stained o'er;
When some brave Greeks, companions then with thee,
Forgot their country through the lotus-tree;
I tyn'd the firebrand that (beside thy flight)
Left Polyphemus in eternal night;
And lastly to Æaea brought thee on,
Safe from the man-devouring Laestrigon.
This for Ulysses' love hath Circe done,
And if to live with me thou shalt be won
Aurora's hand shall never draw away
The sable veil that hides the gladsome day,
But we new pleasures will begin to taste,
And, better still, those we enjoyed last.
To instance what I can: Music, thy voice,
And of all those have felt our wrath the choice
Appear; and in a dance 'gin that delight
Which with the minutes shall grow infinite. Here one attired like a woodman in all points came forth of the wood and going towards the stage sung this song to call away the first Antimasque .
S ONG .
C OME ye whose horns the cuckold wears,
The witol too with asses' ears;
Let the wolf leave howling,
The baboon his scowling,
And Grillus hie
Out of his sty.
Though grunting, though barking, though braying, ye come,
We'll make ye dance quiet and so send ye home.
No gin shall share you,
Nor mastive scare you,
Nor learn the baboon's tricks,
Nor Grillus scoff
From the hog trough,
But turn again unto the thicks.
Here's none ('tis hop'd) so foolish scorns
That any else should wear the horns;
Here's no cur with howling,
Nor an ape with scowling,
Shall mock or moe
At what you show.
In jumping, in skipping, in turning, or ought
You shall do to please us, how well or how nought.
If there be any
Among this many,
Whom such an humour steers,
May he still lie
In Grillus' sty,
Or wear for ever the asses' ears. While the first staff of this song was singing out of the thickets on either side the boscage came rushing the Antimasque, being such as by Circe were supposed to have been transformed (having the minds of men still) into these shapes following:
2. With parts, heads and bodies as Actaeon is pictur'd.
2. Like Midas with asses' ears.
2. Like wolves as Lycaon is drawn.
2. Like baboons.
Grillus (of whom Plutarch writes in his Morals) in the shape of a hog. These together dancing an antic measure towards the latter end of it missed Grillus, who was newly slipped away, and whilst they were at a stand, wondering what was become of him, the woodman stepped forth and sung this song:
S ONG .
G RILLUS is gone; belike he hath heard
The dairy-maid knock at the trough in the yard:
Through thick and thin he wallows,
And weighs nor depths nor shallows.
Hark how he whines!
Run all ere he dines;
Then serve him a trick
For being so quick,
And let him for all his pains
Behold you turn clean off
His trough,
And spill all his wash and his grains, With this the triplex of their tune was played twice or thrice over, and by turns brought them from the stage; when the woodman sung this other staff of the last song, and then ran after them:
And now 'tis wish'd that all such as he
Were rooting with him at the trough or the tree.
Fly, fly, from our pure fountains,
To the dark vales or the mountains.
List, some one whines
With voice like a swine's,
As angry that none
With Grillus is gone,
Or thaThe is left behind.
O let there be no stay
In his way,
To hinder the boar from his kind.
C IRCE .
How likes Ulysses this?
U LYSSES .
. . . . Much like to one
Who in a shipwreck being cast upon
The frothy shores, and safe beholds his mates
Equally cross'd by Neptune and the Fates.
You might as well have ask'd how I would like
A strain, whose equal Orpheus could not strike,
Upon a harp whose strings none other be
Than of the heart of chaste Penelope.
O let it be enough that thou in these
Hast made most wretched Laertiades:
Let not the sad chance of distressed Greeks
With other tears than Sorrow's dew your cheeks!
Most abject baseness hath enthrall'd that breast
Which laughs at men by misery oppress'd.
C IRCE .
In this, as lilies, or the new-fall'n snow,
Is Circe spotless yet. What though the bow,
Which Iris bends, appearing to each sight
In various hues and colours infinite,
The learned know that in itself is free,
And light and shade make that variety?
Things far off seen seem not the same they are;
Fame is not ever truth's discoverer;
For still where envy meeteth a report
Ill she makes worse, and what is good come short.
In whatsoe'er this land hath passive been,
Or she thaThere o'er other reigneth queen,
Let wise Ulysses judge. Some, I confess,
That tow'rds this Isle not long since did address
Their stretched oars, no sooner landed were,
But, careless of themselves, they here and there
Fed on strange fruits, envenoming their bloods,
And now like monsters range about the woods.
If those thy maies were, yet is Circe free:
For their misfortunes have not birth from me.
Who in th' apothecary's shop hath ta'en,
WhilsThe is wanting, that which breeds his bane,
Should never blame the man who there had plac'd it,
But his own folly urging him to taste it.
U LYSSES .
Æaea's Queen and great Hyperion's pride,
Pardon misdoubts; and we are satisfied.
C IRCE .
Swifter the lightning comes not from above,
Than do our grants borne on the wings of love.
And since what's past doth not Ulysses please,
Call to a dance the fair nereides,
With other nymphs which do in every creek,
In woods, on plains, on mountains, simples seek
For powerful Circe, and let in a song
Echoes be aiding, that they may prolong
My now command to each place where they be,
To bring them hither all more speedily. Presently in the wood was heard a full music of lutes, which descending to the stage had to them sung this following song, the Echoes being placed in several parts of the boscage:
S ONG .
C IRCE bids you come away.
Echo: Come away, come away.
From the rivers, from the sea.
Echo: From the sea, from the sea.
From the green woods every one.
Echo: Every one, everyone.
Of her maids be missing none.
Echo: Missing none, missing none.
No longer stay, except it be to bring
A med'cine for love's sting.
That would excuse you and be held more dear
Than wit or magic, for both they are here.
Echo: They are here, they are here. The Echo had no sooner answered to the last line of the song . They are here, but the second Antimasque came in, being seven nymphs, and were thus attired:
Nereides nymphaeque simul quae vellera motis
Nulla trahunt digitis, nec fila sequentia ducunt,
Gramina disponunt; sparsosque sine ordine flores
Secernunt calathis, variisque coloribus herbas.
Ipsa, quod hae faciunt, opus exigit — These having danced a most curious measure to a softer tune than the first Antimasque (as most fitting) returned as they came; the nereides towards the cliffs and the other maids of Circe towards the woods and plains, after which Ulysses, thus:
U LYSSES .
Fame adds not to thy joys, I see in this,
But like a high and stately pyramis
Grows least at farthest. Now, fair Circe, grant,
Although the fair-hair'd Greeks do never vaunt,
That they in measur'd paces ought have done.
But where the god of battles led them on;
Give leave that (freed from sleep) the small remain
Of my companions on the under plain
May in a dance strive how to pleasure thee
Either with skill or with variety.
C IRCE .
Circe is pleas'd. Ulysses, take my wand
And from their eyes each child of sleep command;
Whilst my choice maids with their harmonious voices,
Whereat each bird and dancing spring rejoices,
Charming the winds when they contrary meet,
Shall make their spirits as nimble as their feet.
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