Perform'd at the QUEENS Theatre, in Dorset Garden.

Written by Mr. Dryden.

Discite justitiam moniti, & non temnere Divos.

LONDON, Printed for Iacob Tonson, at the Iudge's Head in Chancery-lane, near Fleet-street. 1685.


IF Wit has truly been defin'd a propriety of Thoughts and Words, then that Definition will extend to all sorts of Poetry; and amongst the rest, to this present entertainment of an Opera. Propriety of thought is that Fancy which arises naturally from the Subject, or which the Poet adapts to it. Propriety of Words, is the cloathing of those thoughts with such Expressions, as are naturally proper to them: and from both these, if they are judiciously perform'd, the delight of Poetry results. An Opera is a poetical Tale or Fiction, represented by Vocal and Instrumental Musick, adorn'd with Scenes, Machines and Dancing. The suppos'd Persons of this musical Drama, are generally supernatural, as Gods and Goddesses, and He­roes, which at least are descended from them, and are in due time, to be adopted into their Number. The Subject therefore being extended beyond the Limits of Humane Nature, admits of that sort of marvellous and surpri­zing conduct, which is rejected in other Plays. Humane Impossibilities, are to be receiv'd, as they are in Faith; because where Gods are introduc'd, a Supreme Power is to be understood; and second Causes are out of doors. Yet propriety is to be observ'd even here. The Gods are all to manage their peculiar Provinces: and what was attributed by the Heathens to one Pow­er, ought not to be perform'd by any other. Phoebus must foretel, Mer­cury must charm with his Caduceus, and Iuno must reconcile the Quarrels of the Marriage-bed. To conclude, they must all act according to their distinct and peculiar Characters▪ If the Persons represented were to speak upon the Stage, it wou'd follow of necessity, That the Expressions should be lofty, figurative and majestical: but the nature of an Opera denies the fre­quent use of those poetical Ornaments: for Vocal Musick, though it often admits a loftiness of sound: yet always exacts an harmonious sweetness; or to distinguish yet more justly, The recitative part of the Opera requires a more masculine Beauty of expression and sound: the other which (for want of a proper English Word) I must call, The Songish Part, must abound in the softness and variety of Numb [...]rs: its principal Intention, being to please the Hearing, rather than to gratify the understanding. It appears indeed, Preposterous at first sight, That Rhyme, on any consi­deration shou'd take place of Reason. But in order to resolve the Pro­bleme, this fundamental proposition must be settled, That the first Inven­tors of any Art or Science, provided they have brought it to perfection, are, in reason, to give Laws to it; and according to their Model, all after Un­dertakers are to build. Thus in Epique Poetry, no Man ought to dispute the Authority of Homer, who gave the first being to that Master-piece of [Page] Art, and endued it with that form of Perfection in all its Parts, that nothing was wanting to its excellency. Virgil therefore, and those very few who have succeeded him, endeavour'd not to introduce or innovate any thing in a Design already perfected, but imitated the plan of the Inventor: and are only so far true Heroique Poets, as they have built on the Foundations of Homer. Thus Pindar, the Author of those Odes, (which are so admira­bly restor'd by Mr. Cowley in our Language,) ought for ever to be the Stan­dard of them; and we are bound according to the practice of Horace and Mr. Cowley, to Copy him. Now, to apply this Axiom, to our present pur­pose, whosoever undertakes the writing of an Opera, (which is a modern Invention, though built indeed, on the foundations of Ethnique Worship,) is oblig'd to imitate the Design of the Italians, who have not only invented, but brought to perfection, this sort of Dramatique Musical Entertainment. I have not been able by any search, to get any light either of the time, when it began, or of the first Author. But I have probable Reasons, which induce me to believe, that some Italians having curiously observ'd the gal­lantries of the Spanish Moores at their Zambra's, or Royal Feasts, where Mu­sick, Songs and Dancing were in perfection; together with their Machines, which are usual at their Sortiia's, or running at the Ring, and other Solem­nities, may possibly have refin'd upon those Moresque Divertisements, and produc'd this delightful Entertainment, by leaving out the warlike Part of the Carousels, and forming a poetical Design for the use of the Machines, the Songs and Dances. But however it began, (for this is only conjectu­ral,) we know that for some Centuries, the knowledge of Musick has flou­rish'd principally in Italy, the Mother of Learning and of Arts; that Poe­try and Painting have been there restor'd, and so cultivated by Italian Ma­sters, That all Europe has been enrich'd out of their Treasury: and the other Parts of it in relation to those delightful Arts, are still as much provincial to Italy, as they were in the time of the Roman Empire. Their first Opera's seem to have been intended for the Celebration of the Marriages of their Princes, or for the magnificence of some general time of Joy. According­ly the Expences of them were from the Purse of the Soveraign, or of the Republick, as they are still practis'd at Venice, Rome, and other Places at their Carnivals. Savoy and Florence have often us'd them in their Courts, at the Weddings of their Dukes: And at Turin particularly, was perform'd the Pastor Fido, written by the famous Guarini, which is a Pastoral Opera made to solemnize the Marriage of a Duke of Savoy. The Prologue of it, has given the Design to all the French, which is a Complement to the So­veraign Power by some God or Goddesses: so that it looks no less than a kind of Embassy from Heaven to Earth. I said, in the beginning of this Preface, that the Persons represented in Opera's, are generally, Gods, Goddesses and Heroes descended from them, who are suppos'd to be their peculiar care: which hinders not, but that meaner Persons, may sometimes gracefully be introduc'd, especially if they have relation to those first times, which Po­ets call the Golden Age: wherein by reason of their Innocence, those happy Mort [...]ls, were suppos'd to have had a more familiar intercourse with Superi­our Beings: and therefore Shepherds might reasonably be admitted, as of all Callings, the most innocent, the most happy, and who by reason of the spare time they had, in their almost idle Employment, had most leisure to make Verses, and to be in Love: without somewhat of which Passion, no Opera can possibly subsist.

[Page] 'Tis almost needless to speak any thing of that noble Language, in which this Musical Drama, was first invented and perform'd. All, who are conver­sant in the Italian, cannot but observe, that it is the softest, the sweetest, the most harmonious, not only of any modern Tongue, but even beyond any of the Learned. It seems indeed to have been invented for the sake of Poetry and Musick: the Vowels are so abounding in all Words, especially in the Terminations of them, that excepting some few Monosyllables, the whole Language ends in them. Then the Pronunciation is so manly and so sonorous, that their very speaking has more of Musick in it, than Dutch, Poetry and Song. It has withal deriv'd so much Copiousness and Eloquence from the Greek and Latin in the composition of Words, and the formati­on of them, that (if after all, we must call it barbarous) 'tis the most beau­tiful and most learned of any Barbarism in Modern Tongues. And we may, at least, as justly praise it, as Pyrrhus did the Roman Discipline, and Martial Order, that it was of Barbarians, (for so the Greeks call'd all other Nations) but had nothing in it of barbarity. This Language has in a man­ner been refin'd and purified from the Gothick, ever since the time of Dantè, which is above four hundred Years ago; and the French, who now cast a longing Eye to their Country, are not less ambitious to possess their Ele­gance in Poetry and Musick: in both which they labour at Impossibili­ties. 'Tis true indeed, they have reform'd their Tongue, and brought both their Prose and Poetry to a Standard: the Sweetness as well as the Purity is much improv'd, by throwing off the unnecessary Consonants, which made their Spelling tedious, and their pronunciation harsh: But after all, as no­thing can be improv'd beyond its own Species, or farther than its original Nature will allow: as an ill Voice though never so thoroughly instructed in the Rules of Musick, can never be brought to sing harmoniously, nor many an honest Critick, ever arrive to be a good Poet, so neither can the natural harshness of the French or their perpetual ill Accent, be ever refin'd into perfect Harmony like the Italian. The English has yet more natural dis­advantage than the French; our original Teutonique consisting most in Monosyllables, and those incumber'd with Consonants cannot possibly be freed from those Inconveniences. The rest of our Words, which are deriv'd from the Latin chiefly, and the French, with some small sprinklings of Greek, Italian and Spanish, are some relief in Poetry; and help us to soften our uncouth Numbers, which together with our English Genius, incompa­rably beyond the triffling of the French, in all the nobler Parts of Verse, will justly give us the Preheminence [...] But, on the other hand, the Effemi­nacy of our pronunciation, (a defect common to us, and to the Danes) and our scarcity of female Rhymes, have left the advantage of musical compositi­on for Songs, though not for recitative, to our neighbors.

Through these Difficulties, I have made a shift to struggle, in my part of the performance of this Opera; which, as mean as it is, deserves at least a Pardon, because it has attempted a discovery beyond any former Underta­ker of our Nation: only remember, that if there be no North-East Passage to be found, the fault is in Nature, and not in me. Or as Ben. Iohnson tells us in the Alchymist, when Projection had fail'd, and the Glasses were all broken, there was enough however in the Bottoms of them to cure the Itch; so I may thus far be positive, That if I have not succeeded, as I desire, yet there is somewhat still remaining, to satisfy the Curiosity or Itch of Sight and Hear­ing. [Page] so Wise as not to be impos'd upon, and fool'd out of their satisfaction. The newness of the undertaking is all the hazard: When Opera's were first set up in France, they were not follow'd over eagerly; but they gain'd daily upon their Hearers, till they grew to that heigth of Reputation which they now enjoy. The English I confess, are not altogether so Musical as the French, and yet they have been pleas'd already, with the Tempest, and some pieces that follow'd, which were neither much better Written, nor so well Com­pos'd as this. If it finds encouragement, I dare promise my self to mend my hand, by making a more pleasing Fable: In the mean time, every Loyal English-man, cannot but be satisfy'd with the Moral of this, which so plainly represents the double restoration of his Sacred Majesty.


This Preface being wholly Written before the Death of my late Royal Master, (quem semper acerbum, semper honoratum, sic Dii voluistis, habebo,) I have now, lately, review'd it, as supposing I shou'd find many notions in it, that wou'd require correction on cooler thoughts. After four Months lying by me, I look'd on it as no longer mine, because I had wholly forgotten it; but, I confess, with some satisfaction, and perhaps a little vanity, that I found my self enter­tain'd by it; my own Iudgment was new to me, and pleas'd me when I look'd on it, as anoth [...]r Man's. I see no Opinion that I wou'd retract or alter, unless it be, that possibly the Italians went not so far as Spain, for the Invention of their Opera's. They might have it in their own Country; and that by gathering up the Shipwrecks of the Athenian and Roman Theaters; which we know were adorn'd with Scenes, Musick, Dances and Machines, especially the Grecian. But of this the Learned Monsieur Vossius, who has made our Nation his se­cond Country, is the best, and perhaps the only Iudge now living: As for the Opera it self, it was all compos'd, and was just ready to have been perform'd when he, in Honor of whom it was principally made, was taken from us.

He had been pleas'd twice or thrice to command, that it shou'd be practis'd, before him, especially the first and third Acts of it; and public [...]ly declar'd more than once, That the compositio and Chorus's, were more Iust, and more Beauti­ful, than any he had heard in England. How nice an Ear he had in Musick is sufficiently known; his praise therefore has establish'd the Reputation of it, above censure, and made it in a manner Sacred. 'Tis therefore humbly and Religiously dedicated to his Memory.

It might reasonably have been expected, that his Death must have chang'd the whole Fabrick of the Opera; or at least a great part of it. But the design of it Originally, was so happy, that it needed no alteration, properly so call'd: for the addition of twenty or thirty lines, in the Apotheosis of Albion, has made it entirel [...] of a Piece. This was the only way which cou'd have been invented, to save it from a botch'd ending; and it fell luckily into my imagination▪ As if there were a kind of fatality, even in the most trivial things concerning the Succession; a change was made, and not for the worse, without the least confusi­on or disturbance: And those very causes which seem'd to threaten us with troubles, conspir'd to produce our lasting Happiness.

Names of the Persons Represented; in the same Or­der as they appear first upon the STAGE.

  • Mercury.
  • Augusta. London.
  • Thamesis.
  • Democracy.
  • Zelota. Feign'd Zeal.
  • Archon. The General.
  • Iuno.
  • Iris.
  • Albion.
  • Albanius.
  • Pluto.
  • Alecto.
  • Apollo.
  • Neptune.
  • Nereids.
  • Acacia. Innocence.
  • Tyranny.
  • Asebia. Atheism or Vngodliness.
  • Proteus.
  • Venus.
  • Fame.
  • A Chorus of Cities.
  • A Chorus of Rivers.
  • A Chorus of the People.
  • A Chorus of Furies.
  • A Chorus of Nereids and Tritons.
  • A Grand Chorus of Hero's, Loves and
  • Graces.


THe Curtain rises, and a new Frontispiece is seen, joyn'd to the great Pylasters, which are on each side of the Stage: On the flat of each Basis is a Shield, adorn'd with Gold: In the middle of the Shield on one side, are two Hearts, a small Scrowl of Gold over 'em, and an Imperial Crown over the Scrowl; on the other, in the Shield are two Quivers full of Arrows Saltyre, &c. Vpon each Basis stands a Figure bigger than the life; one repre­sents Peace, with a Palm in one, and an Olive Branch in the o­ther Hand; t' other Plenty, holding a Cornucopia, and resting on a Pillar. Behind these Figures are large Columns of the Co­rinthian Order adorn'd with Fruit and Flowers: over one of the Figures on the Trees is the King's Cypher; over the other the Queens: over the Capitals, on the Cornice sits a Figure on each side; one presents Poetry crown'd with Lawrel, holding a Scrowl in one Hand the other with a Pen in it, and resting on a Book; the other painting with a Pall [...] and Pencils, &c. On the sweep of [Page] the Arch lies one of the Muses, playing on a Base Voyal; ano­ther of the Muses, on the other side, holding a Trumpet in one Hand, and the other on a Harp. Between these Figures, in the middle of the Sweep of the Arch, is a very large Pannel in a frame of Gold; in this Pannel is painted on one side a Woman re­presenting the City of London, leaning her Head on her Hand in a dejected Posture. (shewing her Sorrow and Penitence for her Of­fences;) the other Hand holds the Arms of the City, and a Mace lying under it: on the other side, is a Figure of the Thames with his Legs shakle'd and leaning on an empty Vin [...] behind these are two Imperial Figures; one representing his present Majesty; the other the Queen; by the King stands Pallas (or Wisdom, and Valor,) holding a Charter for the City, the King extending his Hand, as raising her drooping Head, and restoring her to her an­cient Honor and Glory: over the City are the envious devouring Harpyes flying from the face of Majesty: by the Queen stand the three Graces holding Garlands of Flowers, and at her feet Cu­pids bound, with their Bows and Arrows broken, the Queen point­ing with her Scepter to the River, and commanding the Graces to take off his Fetters: over the King in a Scrowl, is this Verse of Virgil,

Discite justitiam, moniti, & non temnere Divos.
Over the Queen, this of the same Author,
Non ignara mali, miseris succurere disco.


PAge 7th, Line 3d. for Hypocracy, read Hypocricy

Page 9. line the last, for the, read thy.

Page 11. line the third, for you, read yon.

Page 16 read the sixteenth line thus▪

With Pity Jove beholds thy State.

Page 17. the last line, read. And from her Mantle▪

Page 22. line the third, read it thus,

Sea-raceing Dolphins are train'd for our Motion.

Ibid. line the 7th, for unattended, read [...]attending.


FUll twenty years and more, our lab'ring Stage
Has lost, on this incorrgible age:
Our Poets, the Iohn Ketches of the Nation,
Have seem'd to lash yee, ev'n to excoriation:
But still no sign remains; which plainly notes,
You bore like Hero's, or you brib'd like Oates.
What can we do, when mimicking a Fop,
Like beating, Nut-trees, makes a larger Crop?
Faith we'll e'en spare our pains: and to content you,
Will fairly leave you what your Maker meant you.
Satyre was once your Physick, Wit your Food;
One nourisht not, and t'other drew no Blood.
Wee now prescribe, like Doctors in despair,
The Diet your weak appetites can bear.
Since hearty Beef and Mutton will not do,
Here's Julep dance, Ptisan of Song and show:
Give you strong Sense, the Liquor is too heady;
You're come to farce, that's Asses milk, already.
Some hopeful Youths there are, of callow Wit,
Who one Day may be Men, if Heav'n think fit;
Sound may serve such, ere they to Sense are grown;
Like leading strings, till they can walk alone:
But yet to keep our Friends in count'nance, know,
The Wise Italians first invented show;
Thence, into France the Noble Pageant past;
'Tis England's Credit to be cozn'd last.
Freedom and Zeal have chous'd you o'er and o'er;
'Pray' give us leave to bubble you once more;
You never were so cheaply fool'd before.
Wee bring you change, to humour your Disease;
Change for the worse has ever us'd to please:
Then 'tis the mode of France, without whose Rules,
None must presume to set up here for Fools:
In France, the oldest Man is always young,
Sees Opera's daily, learns the Tunes so long,
Till Foot, Hand, Head, keep time with ev'ry Song.
Each sings his part, echoing from Pit and Box,
With his hoarse Voice, half Harmony, half Pox.
Le plus grand Roy du Monde, is always ringing;
They show themselves good Subjects by their singing.
On that condition, set up every Throat;
You Whiggs may sing, for you have chang'd your Note.
[Page] Cits and Citesses, raise a joyful strain,
'Tis a good Omen to begin a Reign:
Voices may help your Charter to restoring;
And get by singing, what you lost by roaring.


AFter our AEsop's Fable, shown to day,
I come to give the Moral of the Play.
Feign'd Zeal, you saw, set out the speedier pace;
But, the last heat, Plain Dealing won the Race:
Plain Dealing for a Jewel has been known;
But ne'er till now the Jewel of a Crown.
When Heav'n made Man, to show the work Divine,
Truth was his Image, stampt upon the Coin:
And, when a King is to a God refin'd,
On all he says and does, he stamps his Mind:
This proves a Soul without allay, and pure;
Kings, like their Gold, should every touch endure.
To dare in Fields is Valour; but how few
Dare be so throughly Valiant to be true?
The Name of Great, let other Kings affect:
He's Great indeed, the Prince that is direct.
His Subjects know him now, and trust him more,
Than all their Kings, and all their Laws before.
What safety could their publick Acts afford?
Those he can break; but cannot break his Word.
So great a Trust to him alone was due;
Well have they trusted whom so well they knew.
The Saint, who walk'd on Waves, securely trod,
While he believ'd the beckning of his God;
But, when his Faith no longer bore him out,
Began to sink, as he began to doubt.
Let us our native Character maintain,
'Tis of our growth, to be sincerely plain.
T' excel in Truth, we Loyally may strive;
Set Privilege against Prerogative:
He Plights his Faith; and we believe him just;
His Honour is to Promise, ours to Trust.
Thus Britain's Basis on a Word is laid,
As by a Word the World it self was made.


Decorations of the Stage in the First Act.

THE Curtain rises, and there appears on either side of the Stage, next to the Frontispiece, a Statue on Horse-back, of Gold, on Pedestal's of Marble, enrich'd with Gold, and bearing the Imperial Armes of England: one of these Statues is taken from that of the late King, at Charing-Cross; the other, from that Figure of his present Majesty (done by that noble Ar­tist Mr. Gibbons) at Windsor.

The Scene, is a Street of Palaces, which lead to the Front of the Royal Exchange; the great Arch is open, and the view is continued through the open part of the Exchange, to the Arch on the other side, and thence to as much of the Street beyond, as could, properly be teaken.

Mercury descends in a Chariot drawn by Ravens.

He comes to Augusta, and Thamesis. They lye on Couches, at a distance from each other, in dejected postures; She attended by Cities, He by Rivers.

On the side of Augusta's Couch are Painted Towers falling, a Scarlet Gown, and Gold Chaine, a Cap of Maintenance thrown [Page 2] down, and a Sword in a Velvet Scabbard thrust through it, the City Arms, a Mace with an old useless Charter, and all in disor­der. Before Thamesis, are broken Reeds, Bull-rushes, Sedge, &c. with his Vrn Reverst.


Mercury Descends.
THou glorious Fabrick! stand for ever, stand:
Well Worthy Thou to entertain
The God of Traffique, and of Gain!
To draw the Concourse of the Land,
And Wealth of all the Main.
But where the shoales of Merchants meeting?
Welcome to their Friends repeating,
Busie Bargaines deafer sound!
Tongues Confus'd of every Nation?
Nothing here but Desolation,
Mournful silence reignes around.
O Hermes! pity me!
I was, while Heav'n did smile,
The Queen of all this Isle,
Europes Pride,
And Albions Bride;
But gone my Plighted Lord! ah, gone is Hee!
O Hermes! pity mee!
And I the Noble Flood, whose tributary Tide
Does on her Silver Margent smoothly glide;
But Heav'n grew jealous of our happy state:
And bid revolving Fate,
Our Doom decree:
No more the King of Floods am I,
No more the Queen of Albion, She!
These two Lines are Sung by Re­prises, betwixt Augusta and Thamisis.
O Hermes! pity me!
O Hermes! pity me!
Sung by Augusta and Tha­mesis together.
[Page 3]
My Turrets on the ground
That once my Temples crown'd!
The Sedgy Honours of my Brow's disperst!
My Urn reverst!
Rise, rise, Augusta, rise!
And wipe thy weeping Eyes:
Augusta! for I call thee so!
'Tis lawful for the Gods to know
Thy Future Name,
And growing Fame.
Rise rise, Augusta, rise.
O never, never will I rise!
Never will I cease my mourning,
Never wipe my Weeping Eyes,
Till my plighted Lord's returning!
Never never will I rise!
What brought Thee, Wretch, to this despair?
The Cause of thy Misfortune show.
It seems the Gods take little Care
Of Humane things below,
When even our Suff'rings here they do not know!
Not unknowing came I down,
Disloyal Town!
Speak! did'st not Thou
Forsake thy Faith, and break thy Nuptial Vow?
Ah 'tis too true! too true!
But what cou'd I, unthinking City, do?
Faction sway'd me,
Zeal allur'd me,
Both assur'd me,
Both betray'd me!
Suppose me sent
Thy Albion to restore,
Can'st thou repent?
My falshood I deplore!
[Page 4]
Thou seest her mourn; and I
With all my Waters, will her Tears supply.
Then by some loyal Deed regain
Thy long lost Reputation,
To wash away the stain
That blots a Noble Nation!
And free thy famous Town again
From force of Usurpation!
Chor. of all.
We'll wash away the stain
That blots a noble Nation,
And free this famous Town again
From force of Usurpation.
[Dance of the followers of Mercury.
Behold Democracy and Zeal appear,
She that allur'd my Heart away,
And He that after made a prey.
Resist, and do not fear!
Chor. of all.
Resist, & do not fear!
[Enter Democracy and Zeal attended by Archon.
Nymph of the City! bring thy Treasures,
Bring me more
To waste in Pleasures.
Thou hast exhausted all my Store,
And I can give no more.
Thou Horny Flood for Zeal provide
A new Supply; And swell thy Moony tide,
That on thy buxom Back the floating Gold may glide.
Not all the Gold the Southern Sun produces,
Or Treasures of the fam'd Levant,
Suffice for Pious uses,
To feed the sacred hunger of a Saint!
Woe to the Vanquisht, woe!
Slave as thou art,
Thy Wealth impart,
And me thy Victor know!
And me thy Victor know,
Resistless Arms are in my hand,
Thy Barrs shall burst at my Command,
[Page 5] Thy Towry Head lye low.
Woe to the Vanquish'd, woe!
Were I not bound by fate
For ever, ever here,
My Walls I would translate
To some more happy Sphere,
Remov'd from servile fear.
Remov'd from servile fear,
Wou'd I could disappear
And sink below the Mayn;
For Commonwealth's a Load
My old Imperial Flood
Shall never never never bear again.
Thamesis and Augusta
A Commonwealth's a Load
Our old Imperial Flood
Shall never never bear again.
Pull down her Gates Expose her bare;
I must enjoy the proud, disdainful fair.
Haste, Archon, Haste
To lay her waste!
I'll hold her fast
To be embrac'd!
And she shall see
A Thousand Tyrants are in thee,
A Thousand thousand more in mee!
to Aug.
From the Caledonion Shore
Hither am I come to save thee,
Not to force or to enslave thee,
But thy Albion to restore:
Hark! the peales the People ring,
Peace, and freedom and a King.
Hark! the Peales the People ring.
Peace and freedom and a King.
Aug. Tham.
To Armes! to Armes!
I lead the way!
Cease your Alarmes!
And stay, brave Archon, stay!
'Tis Doom'd by Fates Decree!
[Page 6] 'Tis Doom'd that Albion's dwelling,
All other Isles excelling,
By Peace shall Happy be!
What then remaines for me?
Take my Caduceus! take this aweful Wand,
With this th' Infernal Ghosts I can command,
And strike a Terror thro the Stygian Land.
Common-wealth will want pretences
Sleep will Creep on all his Senses;
Zeal that lent him her assistance,
Stand amaz'd without resistance.
Archon touches Democra­cy with a Wand.
I feel a lazy slumber layes me down!
Let Albion! let him take the Crown!
Happy let him reign,
Till I wake again!
In vain I rage, In vain,
I rouze my Powers;
But I shall wake again;
I shall to better Houres.
Ev'n in slumber I will vex him;
Still perplex him,
Still incumber:
Know you that have ador'd him,
And Soveraign power afford him,
Wee'll reap the gains
Of all your paines
And seem to have restor'd him!
[Zel. falls asleep.
Aug. and Tham.
A stupyfying sadness
Leaves Her without motion;
But sleep will cure her madness,
And coole her to Devotion.
A double Pedestal rises: On the Front of it is painted, in Stone colour, two Women; one holding a double Fac'd Vizor; the o­ther a Book, representing Hypocracy and Phanaticism; when Archon has charmed Democracy and Zeal with the Cadu­ceus of Mercury, they fall a sleep on the Pedestal, and it sinks with them.
CEase, Augusta! Cease thy mourning,
Happy dayes appeare,
Godlike Albion is returning
Loyal Hearts to Cheere!
Every Grace his youth Adorning,
Glorious as the Star of Morning,
Or the Planet of the Year.
Godlike Albion is returning, &c.
to Arch.
Hast away, Loyal chief, hast away.
No delay, but obey:
To receive thy lov'd Lord! hast away.
Ex. Arch.
Medway and Isis, you that augment me,
Tides that encrease my watry store,
And you that are Friends to Peace and Plenty,
Send my merry Boyes all ashore;
Sea Men Skipping,
Mariners Leaping,
Shouting, Tripping,
Send my merry Boyes all ashore!
A Dance of Watermen in the King's and Duke's Liveries.
The Clouds divide, and Juno appears in a Machine drawn by Peacocks; while a Symphony is playing, it moves gently for­ward, and as it descends, it opens and discovers the Tail of the Peacock, which is so Large, that it almost fills the opening of the Stage between Scene and Scene.
THe Clouds divide, what Wonders,
What Wonders do I see!
The Wife of Iove, 'Tis shee,
That Thunders, More than thundring Hee!
[Page 8]
No, Hermes, No;
'Tis Peace above
As 'tis below:
For Iove has left his wandring Love.
Great Queen of gathering Clouds;
Whose Moisture fills our Floods,
See; we fall before Thee,
Prostrate wee adore Thee!
Great Queen of Nuptial Rites,
Whose pow'r the Souls Unites,
And fills the Genial Bed with chast Delights,
See; we fall before Thee
Prostrate we adore Thee!
'Tis ratifi'd above by every God,
And Iove has firm'd it with an Awfull Nod;
That Albion shall his love renew:
But oh, ungrateful Fair,
Repeated Crimes beware,
And to his Bed be true!
Iris appears on a very large Machine. This was really seen the 18th of March 1684. by Capt. Christopher Gunman, on Board his R. H. Yacht, then in Calais Pierre: He drew it as it then appear'd, and gave a draught of it to us. We have only added the Cloud where the Person of Iris sits.
SPeak Iris, from Batavia, speak the Newes!
Has she perform'd my dread Command,
Returning Albion to his longing Land,
Or dares the Nymph refuse?
Albion, by the Nymph attended,
Was to Neptune recommended,
Peace and plenty spread the Sails:
Venus in her shell before him,
From the Sands in safety bore him,
And supply'd Etesian gales.
Archon on the Shore Commanding,
Lowly met him at his Landing,
[Page 9] Crowd's of People swarm'd around;
Welcome rang like Peals of Thunder;
Welcome, rent the Skies assunder;
Welcome, Heav'n and Earth resound.
Why stay we then on Earth
When Mortals laugh and love?
Tis time to mount above
And send Astraea down,
The Ruler of his Birth,
And Guardian of his Crown.
'Tis time to mount above,
And send Astraea down.
Mer. Iu. Ir.
'Tis time to mount above,
And send Astraea down.
[Mer. Ju. and Iris ascend.
Aug. and Tham.
The Royal Squadron Marches,
Erect Tryumphal Arches,
For Albion and Albanius:
Rejoyce at their returning,
The passages adorning:
The Royal Squadron marches,
Erect Triumphal Arches
For Albion and Albanius.
Part of the Scene disappears, and the 4 Triumphal Arches erected at his Majesties Coronation are seen.
Albion appears, Albanius by his side, preceded by Archon, followed by a Train, &c.
Full Chor.
HAil, Royal Albion, Hail.
Hail Royal Albion, Hail to thee,
Thy longing Peoples expectation:
Sent from the Gods to set us free.
From Bondage and from Usurpation!
To pardon and to pity me,
And to forgive a guilty Nation!
Behold the differing Climes agree.
Rejoycing in the Restauration.
[Page 10] Entry; Representing the Four parts of the World, rejoycing at the Restauration of Albion.


The Scene is a Poetical Hell. The Change is Total. The Vpper part of the House, as well as the Side Scenes. There is the Fi­gure of Prometheus chain'd to a Rock, the Vulture gnawing his Liver. Sisiphus rowling the Stone, the Belides, &c. beyond, abundance of Figures in various Torments. Then a great Arch of Fire. Behind this Three Pyramids of Flames in perpetual agitation. Beyond this, glowing Fire which terminates the Prospect.
Pluto, the Furies, with Alecto, Democracy and Zelota.
INfernal Offspring of the Night,
Debarr'd of Heav'n your Native right,
And from the glorious Fields of Light,
Condemn'd in shades to dragg the Chain,
And fill with groans the gloomy Plain;
Since Pleasures here are none below,
Be ill our good, our joy be Woe;
Our Work t' embroil the Worlds above,
Disturb their Union, disunite their Love,
And blast the Beautious frame of our Victorious Foe.
Democ. and Zelot. together.
Oh thou for whom those Worlds are made,
Thou Sire of all things and their end,
From hence they spring, and when they fade
In Shuffled Heaps they hither tend;
Here Humane Souls receive their Breath,
And wait for Bodies after Death.
Hear our Complaint and grant our Pray'r.
Speak what you are,
And whence you fell?
I am thy first begotten care,
[Page 11] Conceiv'd in Heav'n; but born in Hell,
When Thou didst bravely undertake in fight
You Arbitrary Pow'r,
That rules by Soveraign might,
To set thy Heav'n-born fellows free
And leave no difference in Degree,
In that Auspicious Hour
Was I begot by Thee.
One Mother bore us at a Birth,
Her Name was Zeal before she fell;
No fairer Nymph in Heav'n or Earth
Till Saintship taught her to rebel:
But loosing Fame
And changing Name
She's now the Good Old Cause in Hell.
Dear Pledges of a Flame not yet forgot,
Say, what on Earth has been your lot?
Dem. and Zel.
The Wealth of Albion's Isle was ours,
Augusta stoopt with all her stately Towr's!
Democracy kept Nobles under.
Zeal from the Pulpit roar'd like Thunder.
I trampled on the State.
I lorded o're the Gown.
Dem. and Zel.
We both in Triumph sate
Usurpers of the Crown.
But oh Prodigious turn of Fate!
Heaven controuling,
Sent us rowling, rowling, down.
I wonder'd how of late our Acherontique shore
Grew thin, and Hell unpeople'd of her Store;
Charon for want of Use forgot his Oar.
The Souls of Bodies Dead flew all Sublime,
And hither none return'd to purge a Crime:
But now I see since Albion is restor'd,
Death has no Bus'ness, nor the vengeful Sword.
'Tis too too much that here I ly
From glorious Empire hurl'd;
By Iove excluded from the Sky,
By Albion from the World.
[Page 12]
Were Common-Wealth restor'd again,
Thou should'st have Millions of the slain
To fill thy dark abode.
For He a Race of Rebels sends,
And Zeal the Path of Heav'n pretends;
But still mistakes the rode.
My lab'ring thought
At length hath wrought
A bravely bold design,
In which you both shall joyn;
In borrow'd shapes to Earth return;
Thou Common-wealth, a Patriot seem,
Thou Zeal, like true Religion burn,
To gain the giddy Crowds Esteem.
Alecto, thou to fair Augusta go,
And all thy Snakes into her Bosom throw.
Spare some to fling
Where they may sting
The Breast of Albion's King.
Let Jealousies so well be mixt,
That great Albanius be unfixt!
Forbear your vain Attempts, forbear;
Hell can have no admittance there:
The Peoples fear will serve as well,
Make him suspected, them Rebel.
Y' have all forgot
To forge a Plot
In seeming Care of Albion's Life;
Inspire the Crowd
With Clamours loud
T' involve his Brother and his Wife.
Take of a Thousand Souls at thy Command,
The basest, blackest of the Stygian band:
One that will Swear to all they can invent,
So throughly Damn'd that he can n'er repent:
One often sent to Earth,
And still at every Birth
He took a deeper stain:
One that in Adam's time was Cain:
[Page 13] One that was burnt in Sodom's flame,
For Crimes ev'n here too black to name:
One, who through every form of ill has run:
One who in Naboth's days was Belial's Son:
One who has gain'd a Body fit for Sin;
Where all his Crimes
Of former Times
Lie Crowded in a Skin.
Take him;
Make him
What you please;
For He
Can be
A Rogue with ease.
One for mighty Mischief Born:
He can Swear and be Forsworn.
Pluto and Alecto take him, &c.
Take him, make him what you please;
For He can be a Rogue with ease.
Let us laugh, let us laugh, let us laugh at our Woes,
The Wretch that is damn'd has nothing to lose.
Yee Furies advance
With the Ghosts in a Dance,
'Tis a Jubilee here when the World is in trouble:
When People rebel
VVee frolick in Hell;
But when the King falls, the pleasure is double:
A single Entry of a Devil follow'd by an Entry of 12 Devils.
Let us laugh, let us laugh, let us laugh at our VVoes;
The VVretch that is damn'd hath nothing to lose.
The Scene changes to a Prospect taken from the middle of the Thames; one side of it begins at York-Stairs, thence to VVhite-Hall, and the Mill-Bank, &c. The other from the Saw-Mill, thence to the Bishop's Palace, and on as far as can be seen in a clear Day.
Enter Augusta; She has a Snake in her Bosom, hanging down.
O Jealousy, Thou raging ill,
Why hast thou found a Room in Lovers Hearts,
Afflicting what thou can'st not kill,
And Poysoning Love himself, with his own Darts?
I find my Albion's Heart is gone,
My first offences yet remain,
Nor can repentance Love regain;
One writ in Sand, alas, in Marble one.
I rave, I rave, my Spirits boyl
Like flames encreas'd and mounting high with pou'ring Oyl:
Disdain and Love succeed by turns;
One freezes me, and t'other burns; It burns.
Away soft Love, Thou Foe to rest,
Give Hate the full possession of my Breast.
Hate is the nobler passion far
VVhen Love is ill repay'd;
For at one blow it ends the VVar,
And Cures the Love-sick Maid.
Enter Democracy and Zelota; one represents a Patriot, the other Religion.
LEt not thy generous passion wast its rage,
But once again restore our golden Age;
Still to weep and to complain,
Does but more provoke disdain,
Let publick good,
Inflame thy Blood;
[Page 15] VVith Crowds of VVarlike People thou art stor'd,
And heaps of Gold;
Reject thy old,
And to thy Bed receive another Lord.
Religion shall thy Bonds release,
For Heav'n can loose, as well as tie all;
And when 'tis for the Nations peace
A King is but a King on Tryal;
VVhen Love is lost, let Marriage end,
And leave a Husband for a Friend.
VVith Jealousy swarming
The People are Arming
And frights of oppression invade 'em.
If they fall to relenting,
For fear of repenting,
Religion shall help to perswade 'em.
No more, no more Temptations use
To bend my VVill;
How hard a task 'tis to refuse
A pleasing ill?
Maintain the seeming duty of a VVife,
A modest show will jealous Eyes deceive,
Affect a fear for hated Albion's Life,
And for imaginary Dangers grieve.
His Foes already stand protected,
His Friends by publick Fame suspected,
Albanius must forsake his Isle:
A Plot Contriv'd in happy hour
Bereaves him of his Royal Pow'r,
For Heav'n to mourn and Hell to smile.
The former Scene continues.
Enter Albion and Al­banius with a Train.
THen Zeal and Common-wealth infest
My Land again;
The fumes of madness that possest
The Peoples giddy Brain,
[Page 16] Once more disturb the Nations rest,
And dye Rebellion in a deeper Stain.
Will they at length awake the sleeping Sword,
And force revenge from their offended Lord?
How long, yee Gods, how long
Can Royal patience bear
Th' Insults and wrong
Of Mad-mens jealousies, and causeless fear?
I thought their love by mildness might be gain'd,
By Peace I was restor'd, in Peace I Reign'd:
But Tumults, Seditions,
And haughty Petitions,
Are all the effects of a merciful Nature;
Forgiving and granting,
E're Mortals are wanting,
But leads to Rebelling against their Creator.
Mercury descends.
With pity Iove beholds thy State,
But Iove is circumscrib'd by Fate;
Th' o'er whelming Tide rowls on so fast,
It gains upon this Islands wast:
And is oppos'd too late! too late!
What then must helpless Albion do?
Delude the fury of the Foe,
And to preserve Albanius, let him go;
For 'tis decreed,
Thy Land must bleed,
For Crimes not thine, by wrathful Iove;
A Sacred Flood
of Royal Blood,
Cries Vengeance, Vengeance lowd above.
Mercury ascends.
Shall I, t' asswage
Their Brutal rage,
The Regal stem destroy;
Or must I lose,
(To please my Foes,)
My sole remaining joy?
Yee God's what worse,
What greater Curse,
Can all your Wrath employ?
Oh Albion! hear the Gods and me!
Well, am I lost in saving Thee.
Not exile or danger can fright a brave Spirit
With Innocence guarded,
With Vertue rewarded;
I make of my sufferings a Merit.
Since then the Gods, and Thou wilt have it so;
Go: (can I live once more to bid Thee?) go,
Where thy Misfortunes call Thee and thy Fate:
Go, guiltless Victim of a guilty State,
In War my Champion to defend,
In peaceful Hours, when Souls unbend,
My Brother, and what's more my Friend!
Born where the Foamy Billows roar,
On Seas less Dang'rous than the Shoar:
Go, where the Gods thy Refuge have assign'd:
Go from my sight; but never from my Mind.
Whatever Hospitable ground
shall be for me, unhappy Exile, found,
Till Heav'n vouchsafe to smile;
What Land so e're,
Tho' none so dear,
As this ungrateful Isle;
O think! O think! no distance can remove
My vow'd Allegiance, and my Loyal Love.
Albion. and Alban.
The Rosy finger'd Morn appears,
And from and her Mantle shakes her Tears,
[Page 18] In promise of a glorious Day:
The Sun, returning, Mortals chears,
And drives the Rising Mists away,
In promise of a glorious Day.
The farther part of the Heaven opens and discovers a Machine; as it moves forwards the Clouds which are before it divide, and shew the Person of Apollo, holding the Reins in his hand. As they fall lower, the Horses appear with the Rays and a great glory about Apollo.
ALL Hail yee Royal pair!
The God's peculiar care:
Fear not the malice of your Foes;
Their Dark designing
And Combining,
Time and truth shall once expose:
Fear not the malice of your Foes.
My sacred Oracles assure,
The Tempest shall not long indure;
But when the Nations Crimes are purg'd away,
Then shall you both in glory shine;
Propitious both, and both Divine:
In Lustre equal to the God of Day.
Apollo goes for­ward out of sight.
Neptune rises out of the Water, and a Train of Rivers, Tritons, and Sea Nymphs attend him.
OLd Father Ocean calls my Tyde:
Come away▪ come away,
The Barks upon the Billows ride,
The Master will not stay;
[Page 19] The merry Boson from his side,
His Whistle takes to check and chide
The lingring Lads delay,
And all the Crew alowd has Cry'd,
Come away, come away.
See the God of Seas attends Thee,
Nymphs Divine, a Beauteous Train:
All the calmer gales befriend Thee
In thy passage o're the Main:
Every Maid her Locks is binding,
Every Triton's Horn is winding,
Welcome to the watry Plain.
Two Nymphs and Triton
YEE Nymphs, the Charge is Royal,
Which you must convey;
Your Hearts and Hands employ all,
Hasten to obey;
When Earth is grown disloyal,
Shew there's Honour in the Sea.
The Chacon continues.
The Chorus of Nymphs and Tritons repeat the same Verses.
The Chacon continues.
Two Nymphs and Tritons.
Sports and Pleasures shall attend you
Through all the Watry Plains,
VVhere Neptune Reigns:
Venus ready to defend you,
And her Nymphs to ease your Pains,
No storm shall offend you,
Passing the Main;
Nor Billow threat in vain,
So Sacred a Train,
[Page 20] Till the Gods that defend you,
Restore you again.
The Chacon continues.
The Chorus repeat the same Verses, Sports and Pleasure. &c.
The Chacon continues.
The two Nymphs and Triton
See at your blest returning
Rage disappears;
The VVidow'd Isle in Mourning
Dries up her Tears,
VVith Flowers the Meads adorning,
Pleasure appears,
And love dispels the Nations causeless fears.
The Chacon continues.
The Chorus of Nymphs and Triton repeat the same Verses, See at your blest returning, &c.
The Chacon continues.
Then the Chorus repeat, See the God of Seas, &c. And this Chorus concludes the Act.


The Scene is a view of Dover, taken from the Sea: a row of Cliffs fill up each side of the Stage, and the Sea the middle of it, which runs into the Peer: beyond the Peer, is the Town of Dover: on each side of the Town, is seen a very high Hill; on one of which is the Castle of Dover; on the other, the great Stone which they call the Devils drop. Behind the Town several Hills are seen at a great distance which finish the view.
Enter Albion bareheaded: Acacia or Innocence with him.
BEhold yee Pow'rs! from VVhom I own
A Birth immortal, and a Throne:
[Page 21] See a Sacred King uncrown'd,
See your Offspring, Albion, bound:
The gifts you gave with lavish hand,
Are all bestow'd in vain:
Extended Empire on the Land,
Unbounded o'er the Main.
Empire o'er the Land and Main,
Heav'n that gave can take again;
But a mind that's truly brave,
Stands despising,
Storms arising,
And can ne'er be made a Slave.
Unhelpt I am, who pity'd the distress'd,
And none oppressing, am by all oppress'd;
Betray'd, forsaken, and of hope bereft:
Yet still the Gods and Innocence are left.
Ah! what canst thou avail,
Against Rebellion arm'd with zeal,
And fac'd with publick good?
O Monarch's see
Your Fate in me!
To rule by Love,
To shed no Blood,
May be extol'd above;
But here below,
Let Princes know
'Tis fatal to be good.
Chorus of both.
To rule by Love &c.
But see! what prodigies are these?
Your Father Neptune from the Seas,
Has Nereids and blew Triton's sent,
To charm your discontent.
rise out of the Sea and Sing, Tritons dance.
FRom the low Palace of old Father Ocean,
come we in pity your cares to deplore:
Sea-spouting Dolphins are tam'd for our motion,
Moony Tides swelling to rowl us a-shore,
Ev'ry Nymph of the flood, her Tresses rending,
Throws of her Armlet of Pearl in the Main;
Neptune in anguish his Charge unattended,
Vessels are foundring, and Vows are in vain.
Enter Tyranny, Democracy, represented by Men, attended by Asebia, Zelota, Women.
HA, ha, 'tis what so long I wish'd and vow'd,
Our Plots and delusions,
Have wrought such confusions,
That the Monarch's a Slave to the Crowd.
A Design we somented,
By Hell it was new!
A false Plot invented,
To cover a true.
First with promis'd faith we flatter'd,
Then jealousies and fears we scatter'd.
We never valu'd right and wrong,
But as they serv'd our cause;
Our Business was to please the throng,
And Court their wild applause:
For this we brib'd the Lawyers Tongue,
And then destroy'd the Law's.
For this, &c.
To make him safe, we made his Friends our Prey;
To make him great we scorn'd his Royal sway,
And to confirm his Crown, we took his Heir away.
[Page 23]
T' encrease his store,
We kept him poor:
And when to wants we had betray'd him,
To keep him low,
Pronounc'd a Foe,
Who e're presum'd to aid him.
But you forget the noblest part,
And Masterpiece of all your Art,
You told him he was sick at Heart.
And when you could not work belief
In Albion of th' imagin'd grief;
Your perjur'd vouchers in a Breath,
Made Oath that he was sick to Death;
And then five hundred Quacks of skill
Resolv'd t'was fit he should be ill.
Now heigh for a Common-wealth,
Wee merrily Drink and Sing,
'Tis to the Nations Health,
For every Man's a King.
Then let the Masque begin,
The Saints advance,
To fill the Dance,
And the Property Boys come in.
The Boys in White begin a Fantastick Dance.
Let the Saints ascend the Throne.
Saints have Wives, and Wives have Preachers,
Guifted men, and able Teachers;
These to get, and those to own;
Let the Saints ascend the Throne.
Freedom is a bait alluring;
Them betraying, us securing,
While to Sovereign pow'r we foar.
Old delusions new repeated,
Shews 'em born but to be cheated,
As their Fathers were before.
Six Sectaries begin a formal affected Dance, the two gravest whis­per the other Four, and draw 'em into the Plot: They pull out and deliver Libels to 'em, which they receive.
SEE Friendless Albion there alone,
Without Defence
But Innocence;
Albanius now is gone.
Say then, What must be done?
The Gods have put him in our hand.
He must be slain!
But who shall then Command?
The People: for the right returns to those,
VVho did the trust impose.
'Tis fit another Sun shou'd rise,
To cheer the VVorld, and light the Skyes.
But when the Sun,
His race has run,
And neither cheers the VVorld, nor lights the Skies;
'Tis fit a Common-wealth of Stars shou'd rise.
Each noble vice,
Shall bear a Price,
And Vertue shall a drug become:
An empty Name
VVas all her Fame,
But now she shall be Dumb.
If open Vice be what you drive at,
A Name so broad we'll ne'er connive at.
Saints love Vice, but more refin'dly,
Keep her close, and use her kindly.
Fall on.
Fall on: Ere Albion's death we'll try,
If one or many shall his room supply.
The white Boys dance about the Saints: The Saints draw out the Association, and offer it to 'em: They refuse it and quarrel about it: Then the white Boys and Saints fall into a confus'd Dance, imitating fighting: The white Boys at the end of the Dance, being driven out by the Sectaries with Protestant Flails.
SEE the Gods my cause desending;
VVhen all humane help was past!
Factions mutually contending,
By each other fall at last.
But is not yonder Proteus Cave,
Below that steep,
Which rising Billows brave?
It is: And in it lies the God asleep:
And snorting by,
We may descry,
The Monsters of the deep.
He knows the past,
And can resolve the future too.
'Tis true!
But hold him fast,
For he can change his hew.
The Cave of Proteus rises out of the Sea, it consists of several Arches of Rock work, adorn'd with mother of Pearl, Coral, and abundance of Shells of various kinds: Thro' the Arches is seen the Sea, and parts of Dover Peer: In the middle of the Cave is Proteus a sleep on a Rock adorn'd with Shells, &c. Like the Cave. Albion and Acacia, seize on him, and while a Symphony is playing, he sinks as they are bringing him forward, and changes himself into a Lyon, a Crocodile, a Dragon, and then to his own shape again: He comes toward the front of the Stage, and Sings.
ALbion, lov'd of Gods and Men,
Prince of Peace too mildly Reigning,
[Page 26] Cease thy sorrow and complaining;
Thou shalt be restor'd agen:
Albion, lov'd of Gods and Men.
Still thou art the care of Heav'n,
In thy Youth to Exile driv'n:
Heav'n thy ruin then prevented,
Till the guilty Land repented:
In thy Age, when none could aid Thee,
Foes conspir'd, and Friends betray'd Thee;
To the brink of danger driv'n,
Still thou art the Care of Heav'n.
To whom shall I my preservation owe?
Ask me no more! for 'tis by Neptune's Foe.
Proteus descends.
Democracy and Zelota return with their Faction.
Our seeming Friends, who joyn'd alone,
To pull down one, and build another Throne,
Are all disperst and gone:
We brave republick Souls remain.
And 'tis by us that Albion must be Slain:
Say, whom shall wee employ
The Tyrant to destroy?
That Archer is by Fate design'd,
With one Eye clear, and t'other blind.
He seems inspir'd to do't.
Shoot Holy Cyclop, shoot.
The one Ey'd Archer advances, the rest follow: A fire arises betwixt them and Albion.
Lo! Heav'n and Earth combine,
To blast our bold design.
[Page 27] What Miracles are shown?
Nature's alarm'd,
And Fires are arm'd,
To guard the Sacred Throne.
What help, when jarring Elements conspire
To punish our audacious Crimes.
Retreat betimes,
To shun th' avenging Fire.
To shun the avenging Fire.
As they are going back a Fire arises from behind: They all sink together.
Let our tuneful accents upwards move,
Till they reach the vaulted Arch of those above;
Let us adore 'em;
Let us fall before 'em:
Kings they made, and Kings they love▪
When they protect a rightful Monarch's Reign,
The Gods in Heav'n, the Gods on Earth maintain.
When they protect, &c.
But see what glories guild the main.
Bright Venus brings Albanius back again,
With all the loves and graces in her train.
A Machine rises out of the Sea: It opens and discovers Venus, and Albanius sitting in a great Scallop-shell, richly adorn'd: Venus is attended by the Loves and Graces, Albanius by Hero's: The Shell is drawn by Dolphins: It moves forward, while a Simpho­ny of Fluts-Doux, &c. is playing till it Lands 'em on the Stage, and then it closes and sinks.
ALbion, Hail; The Gods present Thee,
All the richest of their Treasures,
Peace and Pleasures.
[Page 28] To content Thee,
Dancing their eternal measures.
Graces and Loves, Dance an Entry.
But above all humane blessing;
Take a Warlike Loyal Brother,
Never Prince had such another:
Conduct, Courage, truth expressing,
All Heroick worth possessing.
Chor. of all.
But above all, &c.
Here the Hero's Dance is perform'd.
Whilst a Simphony is playing; a very large, and a very glorious Machine descends: The figure of it Oval, all the Clouds shi­ning with Gold, abundance of Angels and Cherubins flying a­bout 'em, and playing in 'em; in the midst of it sits Apollo on a Throne of Gold: he comes from the Machine to Albion.
From Iove's Imperial Court,
Where all the Gods resort;
In awful Council met,
Surprizing news I bear:
Albion the Great,
Must change his Seat,
For Hee's adopted there.
What Stars above shall we displace?
Where shall he fill a Room Divine?
Descended from the Sea Gods Race,
Let him by my Orion shine.
No, Not by that tempestuous sign:
Betwixt the Balance and the Maid,
The Just,
And peaceful shade,
Shall shine in Heav'n with Beams display'd,
While great Albanius is on Earth obey'd:
Albanius Lord of Land and Main,
Shall with fraternal vertues Reign;
[Page 29] And add his own,
To fill the Throne;
Ador'd and fear'd, and lov'd no less:
In VVar Victorious, mild in Peace,
The joy of men, and Iove's increase.
O Thou! Who mount'st th' AEthereal Throne,
Be kind and happy to thy own;
Now Albion is come,
The People of the Sky,
Run gazing and Cry,
Make Room, make Room,
Make room for our new Deity.
Here Albion mounts the Machine, which moves up­ward slowly.
A full Chorus of all that Acacia sung.
Behold what Triumphs are prepar'd to grace
Thy glorious Race,
Where Love and Honour claim an equal place;
Already are they fixt by Fate,
And only ripening Ages wait.

The Scene changes to a walk of very high Trees: At the end of the Walk is a view of that part of Windsor, which faces Eaton: In the midst of it is a row of small Trees, which lead to the Castle-hill: In the first Scene, part of the Town and part of the Hill: In the next the Terrace Walk, the King's Lodgings, and the upper part of St. George's Chappel, then the Keep; and lastly, that part of the Castle, beyond the Keep.

In the Air is a Vision of the Honors of the Garter; the Knights in Procession, and the King under a Canopy: Beyond this, the upper end of St. George's Hall.

Fame rises out of the middle of the Stage, standing on a Globe; on which is the Arms of England: The Globe rests on a Pedestal: On the Front of the Pedestal is drawn a Man with a [Page 30] long, lean, pale Face, with Fiends Wings, and Snakes twisted round his Body: He is incompast by several Phanatical Rebellious Heads, who suck poyson from him, which runs out of a Tap in his Side.

REnown, assume thy Trumpet!
From Pole to Pole resounding:
Great Albion's Name;
Great Albion's Name shall be
The Theme of Fame, shall be great Albion's Name,
Great Albion's Name, Great Albion's Name.
Record the Garters glory:
A Badge for Hero's, and for Kings to bear:
For Kings to bear!
And swell th' Immortal Story,
With Songs of Gods, and fit for Gods to hear;
And swell th' Immortal Story,
VVith Songs of Gods, and fit for Gods to hear;
For Gods to hear.
A full Chorus of all the Voices and Instruments: Trumpets and Ho-Boys make Returnello's of all Fame sings; and Twenty four Dancers joyn all the time in a Chorus, and Dance to the end of the Opera.

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