by John Dryden
No storm shall offend you,
Passing the main;
Nor billow threat in vain
So sacred a train,
‘Till the gods, that defend you,
Restore you again.
The Chacon continues.
The Chorus repeat the same Verses, Sports and Pleasures &c.
The Chacon continues.
The two Nymphs and Tritons sing.
See, at your blest returning,
Rage disappears;
The widowed isle in mourning
Dries up her tears;
With flowers the meads adorning,
Pleasure appears,
And love dispels the nation’s causeless fears.
The Chacon continues.
The Chorus of Nymphs and Tritons 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.
ACT III.
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 Pier; Beyond the Pier, 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 Devil’s-Drop. Behind the Town several Hills are seen at a great distance, which finish the View.
Enter Albion bare-headed; Acacia or Innocence with him.
Alb. Behold, ye powers! from whom I own
A birth immortal, and a throne;
See a sacred king uncrowned,
See your offspring, Albion, bound;
The gifts, you gave with lavish hand,
Are all bestowed in vain;
Extended empire on the land,
Unbounded o’er the main.
Aca. Empire o’er the land and main,
Heaven, that gave, can take again;
But a mind, that’s truly brave,
Stands despising
Storms arising,
And can ne’er be made a slave.
Alb. Unhelped I am, who pitied the distressed,
And, none oppressing, am by all oppressed;
Betrayed, forsaken, and of hope bereft.
Aca. Yet still the gods, and Innocence are left.
Alb. Ah! what canst thou avail,
Against rebellion armed with zeal,
And faced with public good?
O monarchs, see
Your fate in me!
To rule by love,
To shed no blood,
May be extolled above;
But here below,
Let princes know,
’Tis fatal to be good.
Chorus of both. To rule by love, &c.
Aca. Your father Neptune, from the seas,
Has Nereids and blue Tritons sent,
To charm your discontent.
Nereids 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-racing dolphins are trained for our motion,
Moony tides swelling to roll us ashore.
II.
Every nymph of the flood, her tresses rending,
Throws off her armlet of pearl in the main;
Neptune in anguish his charge unattending,
Vessels are foundering, and vows are in vain.
Enter Tyranny, Democracy, represented by Men, attended by Asebia and Zelota, Women.
Tyr. Ha, ha! ’tis what so long I wished and vowed:
Our plots and delusions
Have wrought such confusions,
That the monarch’s a slave to the crowd.
Dem. A design we fomented, —
Tyr. By hell it was new!
Dem. A false plot invented, —
Tyr. To cover a true.
Dem. First with promised faith we flattered.
Tyr. Then jealousies and fears we scattered.
Aseb. We never valued right and wrong,
But as they served our cause.
Zel. Our business was to please the throng,
And court their wild applause;
Aseb. For this we bribed the lawyer’s tongue.
And then destroyed the laws.
Cho. For this, &c.
Tyr. To make him safe, we made his friends our prey;
Dem. To make him great, we scorned his royal sway, —
Tyr. And to confirm his crown, we took his heir away.
Dem. To encrease his store,
We kept him poor;
Tyr. And when to wants we had betrayed him,
To keep him low,
Pronounced a foe,
Whoe’er presumed to aid him.
Aseb. But you forget the noblest part,
And master piece of all your art, —
You told him he was sick at heart.
Zel. And when you could not work belief
In Albion of the imagined grief;
Your perjured vouchers, in a breath,
Made oath, that he was sick to death;
And then five hundred quacks of skill
Resolved, ’twas fit he should be ill.
Aseb. Now hey for a common-wealth,
We merrily drink and sing!
’Tis to the nation’s health,
For every man’s a king.
Zel. Then let the mask begin,
The Saints advance,
To fill the dance,
And the Property Boys come in.
The Boys in white begin a Fantastic Dance.
Cho. Let the saints ascend the throne.
Dem. Saints have wives, and wives have preachers,
Gifted men, and able teachers;
These to get, and those to own.
Cho. Let the saints ascend the throne.
Aseb. Freedom is a bait alluring;
Them betraying, us securing,
While to sovereign power we soar.
Zel. Old delusions, new repeated,
Shews them 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 them into the Plot; they pull out and deliver Libels to them, which they receive.
Dem. See friendless Albion there alone,
Without defence
But innocence;
Albanius now is gone.
Tyr. Say then, what must be done?
Dem. The gods have put him in our hand.
Zel. He must be slain.
Tyr. But who shall then command?
Dem. The people; for the right returns to those.
Who did the trust impose.
Tyr. ’Tis fit another sun should rise,
To cheer the world, and light the skies.
Dem. But when the sun
His race has run,
And neither cheers the world, nor lights the skies,
’Tis fit a common-wealth of stars should rise.
Aseb. Each noble vice
Shall bear a price,
And virtue shall a drug become;
An empty name
Was all her fame,
But now she shall be dumb.
Zel. If open vice be what you drive at,
A name so broad we’ll ne’er connive at.
Saints love vice, but, more refinedly,
Keep her close, and use her kindly.
Tyr. Fall on.
Dem. Fall on; e’er 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 them; they refuse it, and quarrel about it; then the White Boys and Saints fall into a confused dance, imitating fighting. The White Boys, at the end of the dance, being driven out by the Sectaries, with Protestant Flails.
Alb. See the gods my cause defending,
When all human h
elp was past!
Acac. Factions mutually contending,
By each other fall at last.
Alb. But is not yonder Proteus’ cave,
Below that steep,
Which rising billows brave?
Acac. It is; and in it lies the god asleep;
And snorting by,
We may descry
The monsters of the deep.
Alb. He knows the past,
And can resolve the future too.
Acac. ’Tis true!
But hold him fast,
For he can change his hue.
The Cave of Proteus rises out of the Sea; it consists of several arches of Rock-work adorned with mother-of-pearl, coral, and abundance of shells of various kinds. Through the arches is seen the Sea, and parts of Dover-pier; in the middle of the Cave is Proteus asleep on a rock adorned 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 Lion, a Crocodile, a Dragon, and then to his own shape again; he comes forward to the front of the stage, and sings.
SYMPHONY.
Pro. Albion, loved of gods and men,
Prince of peace, too mildly reigning,
Cease thy sorrow and complaining;
Thou shall be restored again:
Albion, loved of gods and men.
II.
Still thou art the care of heaven,
In thy youth to exile driven;
Heaven thy ruin then prevented,
‘Till the guilty land repented.
In thy age, when none could aid thee,
Foes conspired, and friends betrayed thee;
To the brink of danger driven,
Still thou art the care of heaven.
Alb. To whom shall I my preservation owe?
Pro. Ask me no more; for ’tis by Neptune’s foe.
Proteus descends.
Democracy and Zelota return with their faction.
Dem. Our seeming friends, who joined alone,
To pull down one, and build another throne,
Are all dispersed and gone;
We brave republic souls remain.
Zel. And ’tis by us that Albion must be slain;
Say, whom shall we employ
The tyrant to destroy?
Dem. That Archer is by fate designed,
With one eye clear, and t’other blind.
Zel. He comes inspired to do’t.
Omnes. Shoot, holy Cyclop, shoot.
The one-eyed Archer advances, the rest follow. A fire arises betwixt them and Albion.
[Ritornel.
Dem. Lo! heaven and earth combine
To blast our bold design.
What miracles are shewn!
Nature’s alarmed,
And fires are armed,
To guard the sacred throne.
Zel. What help, when jarring elements conspire,
To punish our audacious crimes?
Retreat betimes,
To shun the avenging fire.
Chor. To shun the avenging fire.[Ritor.
As they are going back, a fire arises from behind; they all sink together.
Alb. Let our tuneful accents upwards move,
Till they reach the vaulted arch of those above;
Let us adore them;
Let us fall before them.
Acac. Kings they made, and kings they love.
When they protect a rightful monarch’s reign,
The gods in heaven, the gods on earth maintain.
Both. When they protect, &c.
Alb. But see, what glories gild the main!
Acac. 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 adorned. Venus is attended by the Loves and Graces, Albanius by Heroes; the shell is drawn by dolphins; it moves forward, while a symphony of flutes-doux, &c. is playing, till it lands them on the stage, and then it closes and sinks.
Venus sings.
Albion, hail! the gods present thee
All the richest of their treasures,
Peace and pleasures,
To content thee,
Dancing their eternal measures. [Graces and Loves dance an entry.
Venus. But, above all human blessing,
Take a warlike loyal brother,
Never prince had such another;
Conduct, courage, truth expressing,
All heroic worth possessing. [Here the Heroes’ dance is performed.
Chor. of all. But above all, &c.[Ritor.
Whilst a Symphony 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 them, and playing in them; in the midst of it sits Apollo on a throne of gold; he comes from the machine to Albion.
Phœb. From Jove’s imperial court,
Where all the gods resort,
In awful counsel met,
Surprising news I bear;
Albion the great
Must change his seat,
For he is adopted there.
Venus. What stars above shall we displace?
Where shall he fill a room divine?
Nept. Descended from the sea-gods’ race,
Let him by my Orion shine.
Phœb. No, not by that tempestuous sign;
Betwixt the Balance and the Maid,
The just,
August,
And peaceful shade,
Shall shine in heaven with beams displayed,
While great Albanius is on earth obeyed.
Venus. Albanius, lord of land and main,
Shall with fraternal virtues reign;
And add his own,
To fill the throne;
Adored and feared, and loved no less;
In war victorious, mild in peace,
The joy of man, and Jove’s increase.
Acac. O thou! who mountest the æthereal 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,
Make room for our new deity!
Here Albion mounts the machine, which moves upward slowly.
A full chorus of all that Acacia sung.
Ven. Behold what triumphs are prepared to grace
Thy glorious race,
Where love and honour claim an equal place;
Already they are fixed 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 Eton; 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 chapel, then the keep; and, lastly, that part of the Castle beyond the keep.
In the air is a vision of the Honours 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 in drawn a Man with a long, lean, pale face, with fiends’ wings, and snakes twisted round his body; he is encompassed by several fanatical rebellious heads, who suck poison from him, which runs out of a tap in his side.
Fame. 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 garter’s glory;
A badge for heroes, and for kings to bear;
For kings to bear!
And swell the immortal story,
With songs of Gods, and fit for Gods to hear;
And swell the immortal story,
With songs of Gods, and fit for Gods to hear;
For Gods to hear.
A full Chorus of all the Voices and Instruments; trumpets and hautboys make Ritornello’s of all Fame sings; and twenty-four Dancers, all the time in a chorus, and dance to the end of the Opera.
EPILOGUE
After our Æsop’s fable shown to-day,
I come to give the moral of the play.
Feigned 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 heaven made man, to show the work divine,
Truth was his image, stamped upon the coin:
And when a king is to a God refined,
On all he says and does he stamps his mind:
This proves a soul without alloy, 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 public 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 walked on waves, securely trod,
While he believed the beck’ning 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.
To 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 itself was made.
DON SEBASTIAN, KING OF PORTUGAL
A TRAGEDY.
— Nec tarda senectus
Debilitat vires animi, mutatque vigorem.
VIRG.
The following tragedy is founded upon the adventures supposed to have befallen Sebastian, king of Portugal, after the fatal battle of Alcazar. The reader may be briefly reminded of the memorable expedition of that gallant monarch to Africa, to signalize, against the Moors, his chivalry as a warrior, and his faith as a Christian. The ostensible pretext of invasion was the cause of Muly Mahomet, son of Abdalla, emperor of Morocco; upon whose death, his brother, Muly Moluch, had seized the crown, and driven his nephew into exile. The armies joined battle near Alcazar. The Portuguese, far inferior in number to the Moors, displayed the most desperate valour, and had nearly won the day, when Muly Moluch, who, though almost dying, was present on the field in a litter, fired with shame and indignation, threw himself on horseback, rallied his troops, renewed the combat, and, being carried back to his litter, immediately expired, with his finger placed on his lips, to impress on the chiefs, who surrounded him, the necessity of concealing his death. The Moors, rallied by their sovereign’s dying exertion, surrounded, and totally routed, the army of Sebastian. Mahomet, the competitor for the throne of Morocco, was drowned in passing a river in his flight, and Sebastian, as his body was never found, probably perished in the same manner. But where the region of historical certainty ends, that of romantic tradition commences. The Portuguese, to whom the memory of their warlike sovereign was deservedly dear, grasped at the feeble hope which the uncertainty of his fate afforded, and long, with vain fondness, expected the return of Sebastian, to free them from the yoke of Spain. This mysterious termination of a hero’s career, as it gave rise to various political intrigues, (for several persons assumed the name and character of Sebastian,) early afforded a subject for exercising the fancy of the dramatist and romance writer. “The Battle of Alcazar” is known to the collectors of old plays; a ballad on the 274 same subject is reprinted in Evans’s collection; and our author mentions a French novel on the adventures of Don Sebastian, to which Langbaine also refers.