Ariadne deserted by Theseus and found and courted by Bacchus a dramatick piece apted for recitative musick

  • by Richard Flecknoe
  • 1654
  • Mythology, Greek, Poetry

Ariadne deserted by Theseus and found and courted by Bacchus a dramatick piece apted for recitative musick

written and composed by Richard Fleckno.

1654

Page 1

ARIADNE.

••he Landscapt, or Prospect of a Desart Isle discover'd, with a Ship afar off sailing from thence; when Ariadne, awaked out of sleep, by sad (but delicate) Musick, (sup∣posed the harmony of the celestial minds) and finding her self deserted by Theseus, thus expresses first, in recitative Musick, The Confusion of her Thoughts, and her distracted passions. Ariadne. AY me! and is he gon! And I left here alone! Ah Theseus stay— But see he sails away, And never minds my moan— Yet sure he do's not fly me, But only dos 't to try me;

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And he'll return again— Oh no! that hope is vain, Hee's gon, hee's gon, And I left here alone, Poor wretch! the most forlorn, As ever yet was born, With killing dolors more than Tongue can speak, O heart, why dos't not break? Here the Winds and Seas seeming moved with her Sighes and Tears, (the supposed Companions of her Solitude and Affliction) the first represented by the Aeolides, or wing∣ed heads, puffing out of bigg-swoln clouds, and the second by the Nereides, or Sea-Nimphs, Syren-like, Sing this in Chorus. TIs still the Heavens peculiar care, Of all that's nobly Good, and Fair, That when they suffer, every one Claims right to soft compassion;

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So th' liquid Waves do weep, and moan, The gentle Winds do sigh, and groan, While th' Rocks with Ecchoes measure keep To th' Musick of the Air, and of the Deep; Only Theseus, more hard, more cruel far than they, Ne'r minds her grievous plaints, but sails away. Here she starts up, and first expresses her Rage and Anger, next her pitifull Lamen∣tations and Grief. Ariadne. BUt why thus weep I, for that perfidious, who Abandons, and leaves me so? Let him weep rather, so perfidiously Leaves and Abandons me. "Only for proper Guilt, "Tears should be spilt. And so they shall, if there be any Pow'rs Beyond this Sphere of ours, In Heav'n, or the Abyss, To punish crimes like this.

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As 'tis your Int'rest, O ye Pow'rs divine! As well as mine: For let him pass unpunish'd, and who shall Hereafter think there's any Gods at all? But you 'r too pitifull, and are not bent Cruelly enough;—I'll be his punishment; If there be any Magick in a Curse, Dire Imprecations, horrid Vowes, or worse, I'll thunder Tempests on his catif head, That now is fled, I'll storm, and whirlwinds of my breath, Mix'd with the angry lightning of mine Eyes, More violent by far Than those that darted are From the inraged Skies, Shall hurry him to death, My Angers sacrifice: When thou pale trembling Theseus then, Wretchedst of Men, Shalt find, when 'tis too late, "Nothing 's more cruel than a Lovers hate.

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Chorus. Shall we the whilst contribute nothing to Her rage, as well as to her woe? Winds. Yes, first we'll murmur, and hiss him unto scorn, Then rage, and crowd our selves into a Storm. Sea. And up we'll bear him, till he touch the Skies, Then down, till buried in the Deep he lies. Winds. Away, away, then let 's about it strait. Sea. Stay, yet her farther pleasure let's await. Ariadne. BUt alas! what can I do? But only wish and wish, and scarcely too, For I recall them, wou'd to Heaven, withall, I Theseus but as eas'ly could recall; I repent me of them too, wou'd thou cou'dst tell, O Theseus, to repent thee but as well; Then should poor Ariadne not complain, As now, alas! she does, nor burst again With thronging sobbs and sighs, more than she e'r can vent, For thy griev'd loss, more than she can lament.

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Here, after sad Musick, she falls into a passi∣on of sighing, weeping, and lamenting. Ariadne. BLow, blow, my Sighs, Flow, flow, my Tears then, till you overflow, And drown me so; And then congeal, till Ariadne be A colder Stone than Niobe; And so become Her own sad Tomb: Or let my pining Grief consume me so, Hereafter none may ever know, Unto her foul disgrace, Ariadne ever was: Or chaage me to a thin unbodied Ghost, Some aery spirit, or substance, or at most An Animated groan, And an Eternal moan. Here lively, and sprightly Musick is heard afar off, by degrees approaching

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the Place, and at last the Bacchanti, or Fore-runners of Bacchus, appear, in Ovant Triumph, with their Timbrels, Systrums, Thyrseses, and other Ensigns of Bacchus Orgyes. When suddenly they fall into this drin∣king Catch, COme Children o'th' Bottle, and let's have a round As long as but liquor in the Bottles is sound, Drink, merrily drink, Whilst the Flaggons do clink, And glasses do tink, And each one does think That the world turns round a, round a, And no body sober be found a. Fill the Cups full, Fill the Cups full Boyes, And say what they wull, Say what they wull Boyes, There is no life but in Liquor. For Aesculape 's but Phoebus's Ape, And Phoebus but Bacchus's Vicar.

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Here Bacchus appears, habited like a Con∣querour, with his Lynxes or Leopards Skin fastned on one shoulder, and hanging down under the other Arm, crown'd with Ivy, and his Thyrses intwin'd and wreath'd with Vine leaves in his hand, followed by the Satyrs and Sileni, &c. whilst the Chorus sings. Chorus. IO, Lyaeus, Evan, Bacchus, Nysaeus, Bromius, and Iacchus, Twice-born, to shew, Divinity Was redoubled in thee; Whilst all th' Inhabitants o'th' Skies Besides, are simple Deities. Io, Lyaeus, Evan, Bacchus, Nysaeus, Bromius, and Iacchus,

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Here Bacchus spyes Ariadne weeping, and stands amaz'd. Bacchus. O All ye Heavenly Deities! What lovely grief and sorrow 's this, At once mine eyes, and admiration draw? Surpassing far All ravishing joyes that are, Or yet I ever saw! And can those sighs be breathed into air, From lips so fair, and sweet, But we must straightway see 't: Ambrosique sweet, as Rosie fair? And can those Tears, let fall From her bright eyes, not strait congeal withall To Pearls, we more than Oriental call?— Divine beauty, compar'd to whom, Divinity do's less becom, Who hast un-godded Bacchus, and Made him here thy Suppliant stand, Doubtful whe'r any thing he be, Till 't be determin'd of by thee.

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Neither wou'd he be divine, Farther than he may be thine— Behold a God falls down before thee, Lowly prostrat to adore thee. He kneels, whilst the Chorus sings. Chorus. SOveraign Beauty, hast the power, To conquer that great Conquerour Of all the Indies far and wide, And all th' adjacent world beside; Sing we of all the Gods above, The mightiest of all is Love, In Heaven and Earth, when e'•• he please, Can do such mighty things as these. Bacchus. SOrrow do's so heavy sit Upon her, as she moves not yet: Sing then again, and with a merrier lay, Chace her importunater grief away.

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Chorus. THen let us sing to make her merry, And laugh til our cheeks be as red as a cherry And make all laugh as well as we▪ With ho, ho, ho, and he, he, he. 1. Laughter every one does love, From him below, to him above, Appearing still with count'nance gay, Chasing care and grief away, Chearing with her cheerfull face; Whilst your melancholy Ass, Who smiles just as his Lips were starcht, Or his mouth burnt up and parcht, Nor does ever laugh out-right, But when Dogs, perchance, do fight, Or some other mischief 's done, Is hated for't by every one.

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Chorus. LEt those then care and sorrow love, Weeping-Heraclites approve, Laughing-Democritus for me, With ho, ho, ho, and he, he, he. 2. He who laughs not at a Jest, 's like him who eats not at a Feast, Either of them, you must grant, Do's both wit, and stomack want; I'd not give a pin for him, Cannot laugh at every thing, At the wagging of a Feather, Or Straw's motion (choose ye whether) And but fall, and there is laughter For a week or fortnight after. Who say Fools only laugh, do lie, I say th' are only Fools who cry.

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Chorus. LEt those then care and sorrow love, Weeping-Heraclites approve, Laughing-Democritus for me, With ho, ho, ho, and he, he, he. Here she looks up, appearing a little com∣••ted, when Bacchus thus makes his Addres∣•• to her. Bacchus. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Airer than fairest, if your eies, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Cleerer than the cleerer skies, ••ign to look upon a Lover, ••••o this bold Truth dares discover ••••at he loves, and loves most true, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 withall loves only you, ••old none of th' ignoblest I, ••nd here, cou'd boast a Deity, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 that I hold it greater boast, ••vaunt that I love you the most—

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In pledge of which love, deign O fairest, Sweetest, dearest, and the rarest, T' accept of this poor Crown you see, And with 't of Immortality; Since after once 'tis dignifyed By you, 't shall strait be stellifyed, And in the clearest Skies appear, Exalted to the highest Sphere, The brightest Constellation there What sayes my dearest? Ariadne. What shu'd I say? But where the Gods command, there Mortals mus•• obey▪ Bacchus. LEad on in Triumph then, and let the Fame Of brightest Ariadne's name, Whilst with glory she is crown'd, From Earth to highest Heav'n resound,

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From t'on to t'other Pole be known, From the Suns rise, t' his going down. Here, whilst they go off in Triumph, the Chorus sings this Triumphant Song. Chorus. NE'r was conjunction more sweet, Than where Divine and Fair do meet. Nor ever were this happy pair, Happier than now they are, In his blest Consortship she, And in her Emoraces he. Let Bacchus and Ariadne's name, Be ever (then) i'••h' mouth of fame, And ever fill the worlds large ear, And in Accents lowd and cl••er, From t'on to t'other Pole be known, From th' Suns rise, to his going down.

FINIS

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