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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Dryden's Works (8 of 18): Amphitryon; King
Arthur; Cleomenes; Love Triumphant, by John Dryden

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Title: Dryden's Works (8 of 18): Amphitryon; King Arthur; Cleomenes; Love Triumphant

Author: John Dryden

Editor: Walter Scott

Release Date: December 16, 2014 [EBook #47679]

Language: English

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*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DRYDEN'S WORKS (8 OF 18): ***




Produced by Jane Robins, Jonathan Ingram and the Online
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THE

WORKS

OF

JOHN DRYDEN,

NOW FIRST COLLECTED

_IN EIGHTEEN VOLUMES_.

ILLUSTRATED

WITH NOTES,

HISTORICAL, CRITICAL, AND EXPLANATORY,

AND

A LIFE OF THE AUTHOR,

BY

WALTER SCOTT, ESQ.

VOL. VIII.

LONDON:

PRINTED FOR WILLIAM MILLER, ALBEMARLE STREET,

BY JAMES BALLANTYNE AND CO. EDINBURGH.

1808.




CONTENTS

OF

VOLUME EIGHTH.


PAGE.
Amphitryon, or the Two Sosias, a Comedy, 1

Epistle Dedicatory to Sir William Leveson Gower, Bart. 7

King Arthur, or the British Worthy, a Dramatic Opera, 107

Epistle Dedicatory to the Marquis of Halifax, 113

Cleomenes, the Spartan Hero, a Tragedy, 181

Epistle Dedicatory to the Earl of Rochester, 191

Preface, 196

The Life of Cleomenes, translated from
Plutarch by Mr Thomas Creech, 207

Love Triumphant, or Nature will prevail, a Tragi-comedy, 331

Epistle Dedicatory to the Earl of Salisbury, 337

Prologue, Song, Secular Masque, and Epilogue, written for
the Pilgrim, revived for Dryden's benefit in 1700, 437




AMPHITRYON:

OR

THE TWO SOSIAS.

A COMEDY.

_Egregiam verò laudem, et spolia ampla refertis,
Una dolo Divûm si fæmina victa duorum est. _ VIRG.




AMPHITRYON.


Plautus, the venerable father of Roman comedy, who flourished during
the second Punic war, left us a play on the subject of Amphitryon,
which has had the honour to be deemed worthy of imitation by Moliere
and Dryden. It cannot be expected, that the plain, blunt, and
inartificial stile of so rude an age should bear any comparison with
that of authors who enjoyed the highest advantages of the polished
times, to which they were an ornament. But the merit of having devised
and embodied most of the comic distresses, which have excited laughter
throughout so many ages, is to be attributed to the ancient bard,
upon whose original conception of the plot his successors have made
few and inconsiderable improvements. It is true, that, instead of a
formal _Prologus_, who stepped forth, in the character of Mercury,
and gravely detailed to the audience the plot of the play, Moliere
and Dryden have introduced it in the modern more artificial method,
by the dialogue of the actors in the first scene. It is true, also,
that with great contempt of one of the unities, afterwards deemed so
indispensible by the ancients, Plautus introduces the birth of Hercules
into a play, founded upon the intrigue which occasioned that event.
Yet with all these disadvantages, and that of the rude flatness of
his dialogue,--resting frequently, for wit, upon the most miserable
puns,--the comic device of the two Sosias; the errors into which
the malice of Mercury plunges his unlucky original; the quarrel of
Alcmena with her real husband, and her reconciliation with Jupiter
in his stead; the final confronting of the two Amphitryos; and the
astonishment of the unfortunate general, at finding every proof of his
identity exhibited by his rival,--are all, however rudely sketched,
the inventions of the Roman poet. In one respect it would seem, that
the _jeu de theatre_, necessary to render the piece probable upon
the stage, was better managed in the time of Plautus than in that of
Dryden and Moliere. Upon a modern stage it is evidently difficult to
introduce two pair of characters, so extremely alike as to make it at
all probable, or even possible, that the mistakes, depending upon their
extreme resemblance, could take place. But, favoured by the masks and
costume of the ancient theatre, Plautus contrived to render Jupiter and
Mercury so exactly like Amphitryon and Sosia, that they were obliged
to retain certain marks, supposed to be invisible to the other persons
of the drama, by which the audience themselves might be enabled to
distinguish the gods from the mortals, whose forms they had assumed[1].

The modern poets have treated the subject, which they had from Plautus,
each according to the fashion of his country; and so far did the
correctness of the French stage exceed ours at that period, that the
palm of the comic writing must be, at once, awarded to Moliere. For,
though Dryden had the advantage of the French author's labours, from
which, and from Plautus, he has translated liberally, the wretched
taste of the age has induced him to lard the piece with gratuitous
indelicacy. He is, in general, coarse and vulgar, where Moliere is
witty; and where the Frenchman ventures upon a double meaning, the
Englishman always contrives to make it a single one. Yet although
inferior to Moliere, and accommodated to the gross taste of the
seventeenth century, "Amphitryon" is one of the happiest effusions
of Dryden's comic muse. He has enriched the plot by the intrigue of
Mercury and Phædra; and the petulant interested "Queen of Gipsies," as
her lover terms her, is no bad paramour for the God of Thieves.

In the scenes of a higher cast, Dryden far outstrips both the
French and Roman poet. The sensation to be expressed is not that of
sentimental affection, which the good father of Olympus was not capable
of feeling; but love, of that grosser and subordinate kind which
prompted Jupiter in his intrigues, has been by none of the ancient
poets expressed in more beautiful verse than that in which Dryden has
clothed it, in the scenes between Jupiter and Alcmena. Even Milbourne,
who afterwards attacked our author with such malignant asperity, was
so sensible of the merit of "Amphitryon," that he addressed to the
publisher the following letter and copy of verses, which Mr Malone's
industry recovered from among Mr Tonson's papers.

"MR TONSON, _Yarmouth, Novemb. 24. --90. _

"You'l wonder perhaps at this from a stranger; but ye reason of it
may perhaps abate somewhat of ye miracle, and it's this. On Thursday
the twentyth instant, I receiv'd Mr Drydens AMPHYTRIO: I leave out
the Greeke termination, as not so proper in my opinion, in English.
But to passe that; I liked the play, and read it over with as much of
criticisme and ill nature as ye time (being about one in ye morning,
and in bed,) would permit. Going to sleep very well pleasd, I could
not leave my bed in ye morning without this sacrifice to the authours
genius: it was too sudden to be correct, but it was very honestly
meant, and is submitted to yours and Mr Ds. disposall.

"Hail, Prince of Witts! thy fumbling Age is past,
Thy youth and witt and art's renewed at last.
So on some rock the Joviall bird assays
Her ore-grown beake, that marke of age, to rayse;
That done, through yield'ing air she cutts her way,
And strongly stoops againe, and breaks the trembling prey.
What though prodigious thunder stripp'd thy brows
Of envy'd bays, and the dull world allows
Shadwell should wear them,--wee'll applaud the change;
Where nations feel it, who can think it strange!
So have I seen the long-ear'd brute aspire
To drest commode with every smallest wire;
With nightrail hung on shoulders, gravely stalke,
Like bawd attendant on Aurelias walke.
Hang't! give the fop ingratefull world its will;
He wears the laurel,--thou deservs't it still.
Still smooth, as when, adorn'd with youthful pride,
For thy dear sake the blushing virgins dyed;
When the kind gods of witt and love combined,
And with large gifts thy yielding soul refined.
"Not Phœbus could with gentler words pursue
His flying Daphne, not the morning dew
Falls softer than the words of amorous Jove,
When melting, dying, for Alcmene's love.
"Yet briske and airy too, thou fill'st the stage,
Unbroke by fortune, undecayed by age.
French wordy witt by thine was long surpast;
Now Rome's thy captive, and by thee wee taste
Of their rich dayntyes; but so finely drest,
Theirs was a country meal, thine a triumphant feast.
"If this to thy necessityes wee ow,
O, may they greater still and greater grow!
Nor blame the wish; Plautus could write in chaines,
Wee'll blesse thy wants, while wee enjoy thy pains.
Wealth makes the poet lazy, nor can fame,
That gay attendant of a spritely flame,
A Dorset or a Wycherly invite,
Because they feel no pinching wants, to write.
"Go on! endenizon the Romane slave;
Let an eternal spring adorne his grave;
His ghost would gladly all his fame submitt
To thy strong judgment and thy piercing witt.
Purged by thy hand, he speaks immortall sense,
And pleases all with modish excellence.
Nor would we have thee live on empty praise
The while, for, though we cann't restore the bays,
While thou writ'st thus,--to pay thy merites due,
Wee'll give the claret and the pension too. "

Milbourne concludes, by desiring to be supplied with such of our
author's writings, as he had not already, to be sent to Yarmouth in
Norfolk, where he probably had then a living.

"Amphitryon" was produced in the same year with "Don Sebastian;" and
although it cannot be called altogether an original performance, yet it
contains so much original writing as to shew, that our author's vein
of poetry was, in his advanced age, distinguished by the same rapid
fluency, as when he first began to write for the stage.

This comedy was acted and printed in 1690. It was very favourably
received; and continued long to be what is called a stock-play.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: This caution is given by Mercury in the prologue.

"Nunc internosse ut vos possitis facilius,
Ego has habebo hic usque in petaso pinnulas,
Tum meo patri autem torulus inerit aureus
Sub petaso: Id signum Amphitruoni non erit.
Ea signa nemo horumce familiarium
Videri poterit; verum vos videbitis. "]




TO

THE HONOURABLE

SIR WILLIAM LEVESON GOWER,

BARONET. [2]


There is one kind of virtue which is inborn in the nobility, and indeed
in most of the ancient families of this nation; they are not apt to
insult on the misfortunes of their countrymen. But you, sir, I may
tell it without flattery, have grafted on this natural commiseration,
and raised it to a nobler virtue. As you have been pleased to honour
me, for a long time, with some part of your esteem, and your good
will; so, in particular, since the late Revolution, you have increased
the proofs of your kindness to me; and not suffered the difference of
opinions, which produce such hatred and enmity in the brutal part of
human kind, to remove you from the settled basis of your good nature,
and good sense. This nobleness of yours, had it been exercised on an
enemy, had certainly been a point of honour, and as such I might have
justly recommended it to the world; but that of constancy to your
former choice, and the pursuance of your first favours, are virtues
not over-common amongst Englishmen. All things of honour have, at
best, somewhat of ostentation in them, and self-love; there is a pride
of doing more than is expected from us, and more than others would
have done. But to proceed in the same track of goodness, favour, and
protection, is to shew that a man is acted by a thorough principle: it
carries somewhat of tenderness in it, which is humanity in a heroical
degree; it is a kind of unmoveable good-nature; a word which is
commonly despised, because it is so seldom practised. But, after all,
it is the most generous virtue, opposed to the most degenerate vice,
which is that of ruggedness and harshness to our fellow-creatures.

It is upon this knowledge of you, sir, that I have chosen you, with
your permission, to be the patron of this poem. And as, since this
wonderful Revolution, I have begun with the best pattern of humanity,
the Earl of Leicester, I shall continue to follow the same method, in
all to whom I shall address; and endeavour to pitch on such only, as
have been pleased to own me, in this ruin of my small fortune; who,
though they are of a contrary opinion themselves, yet blame not me for
adhering to a lost cause; and judging for myself, what I cannot chuse
but judge, so long as I am a patient sufferer, and no disturber of the
government. Which, if it be a severe penance, as a great wit has told
the world, it is at least enjoined me by myself: and Sancho Pança, as
much fool as I, was observed to discipline his body no farther than he
found he could endure the smart.

You see, sir, I am not entertaining you like Ovid, with a lamentable
epistle from Pontus: I suffer no more than I can easily undergo; and so
long as I enjoy my liberty, which is the birth-right of an Englishman,
the rest shall never go near my heart. The merry philosopher is more to
my humour than the melancholic; and I find no disposition in myself to
cry, while the mad world is daily supplying me with such occasions of
laughter. The more reasonable sort of my countrymen have shewn so much
favour to this piece, that they give me no doubt of their protection
for the future.

As you, sir, have been pleased to follow the example of their goodness,
in favouring me; so give me leave to say that I follow yours, in this
dedication to a person of a different persuasion. Though I must confess
withal, that I have had a former encouragement from you for this
address; and the warm remembrance of your noble hospitality to me, at
Trentham[3], when some years ago I visited my friends and relations
in your country, has ever since given me a violent temptation to this
boldness.

It is true, were this comedy wholly mine, I should call it a trifle,
and perhaps not think it worth your patronage; but, when the names of
Plautus and Moliere are joined in it, that is, the two greatest names
of ancient and modern comedy, I must not presume so far on their
reputation, to think their best and most unquestioned productions can
be termed little. I will not give you the trouble of acquainting you
what I have added, or altered, in either of them, so much, it may be,
for the worse; but only, that the difference of our stage, from the
Roman and the French, did so require it. But I am afraid, for my own
interest, the world will too easily discover, that more than half of
it is mine; and that the rest is rather a lame imitation of their
excellencies, than a just translation. It is enough, that the reader
know by you, that I neither deserve nor desire any applause from it:
if I have performed any thing, it is the genius of my authors that
inspired me; and, if it pleased in representation let the actors share
the praise amongst themselves. As for Plautus and Moliere, they are
dangerous people; and I am too weak a gamester to put myself into their
form of play. But what has been wanting on my part, has been abundantly
supplied by the excellent composition of Mr Purcell; in whose person
we have at length found an Englishman, equal with the best abroad. At
least, my opinion of him has been such, since his happy and judicious
performances in the late opera[4], and the experience I have had of
him, in the setting my three songs for this "Amphitryon:" to all
which, and particularly to the composition of the pastoral dialogue,
the numerous choir of fair ladies gave so just an applause on the
third day. I am only sorry, for my own sake, that there was one star
wanting, as beautiful as any in our hemisphere; that young Berenice[5],
who is misemploying all her charms on stupid country souls, that can
never know the value of them; and losing the triumphs, which are ready
prepared for her, in the court and town. And yet I know not whether I
am so much a loser by her absence; for I have reason to apprehend the
sharpness of her judgment, if it were not allayed with the sweetness of
her nature; and, after all, I fear she may come time enough to discover
a thousand imperfections in my play, which might have passed on vulgar
understandings. Be pleased to use the authority of a father over her,
on my behalf: enjoin her to keep her own thoughts of "Amphitryon" to
herself; or at least not to compare him too strictly with Moliere's. It
is true, I have an interest in this partiality of hers: but withal, I
plead some sort of merit for it, in being so particularly, as I am,

SIR,

Your most obedient,

Humble servant,

JOHN DRYDEN.

_October 24th, 1690. _

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 2: This gentleman united in his person the ancient families
of Gower and Leveson. He was second son of Sir Thomas Gower, bart. ,
and succeeded to the title and estate, by the death of his nephew, Sir
Edward Gower, in the year before. He was a keen whig, and distinguished
himself, both by his attachment to Monmouth, and his zeal for the
Revolution; but his alliance with Lawrence Earl of Rochester, whose
eldest son, Lord Hyde, had married his daughter, might smooth our
poet's access to his favour; since Rochester is distinguished as his
constant patron. Dryden also refers to former passages of intimacy
between him and Sir William. Above all, we are to suppose that, in
admiration of our author's poetical talents, Sir William Gower was
capable of drowning every unfavourable recollection of his political
tenets. Sir William Leveson Gower is ancestor of the present Marquis of
Stafford. ]

[Footnote 3: A noble seat in Staffordshire, inhabited by Sir William
Gower, from the Levesons, his maternal ancestors. ]

[Footnote 4: Betterton, having recovered the dislike to operas, which
the failure of "Albion and Albanius" occasioned, had brought out the
"Prophetess," of Beaumont and Fletcher, shortened and altered into a
musical piece, which was set by the famous Purcell. Dr. Burney has
sanctioned the compliment, which Dryden bestows upon it. There is
something in our author's turn of expression, which may lead us to
infer, that he was but a recent convert to the English school of music.
Sir John Hawkins seems to be mistaken, in placing this opera posterior
to that of "Prince Arthur. " The dances were invented by the celebrated
Priest. ]

[Footnote 5: Under this poetical appellation, the author here, and in
the dedication to "Cleomenes," celebrates Jane Lady Hyde, daughter to
Sir William L. Gower, and wife, as has been noticed, to Henry Lord
Hyde; eldest son of Lawrence Earl of Rochester. ]




PROLOGUE,

SPOKEN BY MRS BRACEGIRDLE.
The labouring bee, when his sharp sting is gone,
Forgets his golden work, and turns a drone:
Such is a satire, when you take away
That rage, in which his noble vigour lay.
What gain you, by not suffering him to teaze ye?
He neither can offend you now, nor please ye.
The honey-bag, and venom, lay so near, }
That both together you resolved to tear; }
And lost your pleasure, to secure your fear. }
How can he show his manhood, if you bind him
To box, like boys, with one hand tied behind him?
This is plain levelling of wit; in which
The poor has all the advantage, not the rich.
The blockhead stands excused, for wanting sense;
And wits turn blockheads in their own defence.
Yet, though the stage's traffic is undone,
Still Julian's[6] interloping trade goes on:
Though satire on the theatre you smother,
Yet, in lampoons, you libel one another.
The first produces, still, a second jig;
You whip them out, like school-boys, till they gig;
And with the same success, our readers guess,
For every one still dwindles to a less[7];
And much good malice is so meanly drest,
That we would laugh, but cannot find the jest.
If no advice your rhyming rage can stay,
Let not the ladies suffer in the fray:
Their tender sex is privileged from war;
'Tis not like knights, to draw upon the fair.
What fame expect you from so mean a prize?
We wear no murdering weapons, but our eyes.
Our sex, you know, was after yours designed; }
The last perfection of the Maker's mind: }
Heaven drew out all the gold for us, and left your dross behind. }
Beauty, for valour's best reward, he chose;
Peace, after war; and, after toil, repose.
Hence, ye profane, excluded from our sights; }
And, charmed by day with honour's vain delights, }
Go, make your best of solitary nights. }
Recant betimes, 'tis prudence to submit;
Our sex is still your over-match in wit:
We never fail, with new, successful arts,
To make fine fools of you, and all your parts.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 6: Julian, who styled himself secretary to the muses, made
a dirty livelihood, by copying and dispersing lampoons at the Wits'
coffee-house. He was the subject of a copy of verses, which the reader
will find among those ascribed to Dryden on doubtful authority. ]

[Footnote 7: The poetasters of that age were so numerous, and so
active, that the most deplorable attempt at wit, or satire, was
usually answered in one which was yet worse. Parody and personal abuse
were the implements of this warfare, which sometimes extended to
answers, replies, rejoinders, rebutters, and sur-rebutters, all only
distinguished by malignant scurrility. ]




DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.


JUPITER.
MERCURY.
PHŒBUS.
AMPHITRYON, _the Theban General_.
SOSIA, _his Slave_.
GRIPUS, _a Theban Judge_.
POLIDAS, } _Officers of the Theban Army_.
TRANIO, }

ALCMENA, _Wife to_ AMPHITRYON.
PHÆDRA, } _Her Slaves_.
BROMIA, }
NIGHT.

SCENE,--_Thebes_.




AMPHITRYON,

OR THE

TWO SOSIAS.




ACT I. SCENE I.


MERCURY _and_ PHŒBUS _descend in two Machines_.

_Phoe. _ Know you the reason of this present summons?
'Tis neither council day, nor is this heaven.
What business has our Jupiter on earth?
Why more at Thebes than any other place?
And why we two, of all the herd of gods,
Are chosen out to meet him in consult?
They call me God of Wisdom;
But Mars and Vulcan, the two fools of heaven,
Whose wit lies in their anvil and their sword,
Know full as much as I.

_Merc. _ And Venus may know more than both of us;
For 'tis some petticoat affair, I guess.

I have discharged my duty, which was, to summon you, Phœbus: we shall
know more anon, when the Thunderer comes down. 'Tis our part to obey
our father; for, to confess the truth, we two are little better than
sons of harlots; and, if Jupiter had not been pleased to take a little
pains with our mothers, instead of being gods, we might have been a
couple of link-boys.

_Phoe. _ But know you nothing farther, Hermes? What news in court?

_Merc. _ There has been a devilish quarrel, I can tell you, between
Jupiter and Juno. She threatened to sue him in the spiritual court for
some matrimonial omissions; and he stood upon his prerogative: then she
hit him in the teeth of all his bastards; and your name and mine were
used with less reverence than became our godships. They were both in
their cups; and at last the matter grew so high, that they were ready
to have thrown stars at one another's heads.

_Phoe. _ 'Twas happy for me that I was at my vocation, driving day-light
about the world. But I had rather stand my father's thunderbolts, than
my stepmother's railing.

_Merc. _ When the tongue-battle was over, and the championess had
harnessed her peacocks to go for Samos, and hear the prayers that were
made to her--

_Phoe. _ By the way, her worshippers had a bad time on't; she was in a
damnable humour for receiving petitions.

_Merc. _ Jupiter immediately beckons me aside, and charges me, that,
as soon as ever you had set up your horses, you and I should meet him
here at Thebes: Now, putting the premises together, as dark as it is,
methinks I begin to see day-light.

_Phoe. _ As plain as one of my own beams; she has made him uneasy at
home, and he is going to seek his diversion abroad. I see heaven
itself is no privileged place for happiness, if a man must carry his
wife along with him.

_Merc. _ 'Tis neither better nor worse, upon my conscience. He is weary
of hunting in the spacious forest of a wife, and is following his game
_incognito_ in some little purlieu here at Thebes: that's many an
honest man's case on earth too, Jove help them! as indeed he does, to
make them cuckolds.

_Phoe. _ But, if so, Mercury, then I, who am a poet, must indite his
love-letter; and you, who are by trade a porter, must convey it.

_Merc. _ No more; he's coming down souse upon us, and hears as far as he
can see too. He's plaguy hot upon the business, I know it by his hard
driving.

JUPITER _descends_.

_Jup. _ What, you are descanting upon my actions!
Much good may do you with your politics:
All subjects will be censuring their kings.
Well, I confess I am in love; what then?

_Phoe. _ Some mortal, we presume, of Cadmus' blood;
Some Theban beauty; some new Semele;
Or some Europa.

_Merc. _ I'll say that for my father, he's constant to a handsome
family; he knows when they have a good smack with them, and snuff's up
incense so savourily when 'tis offered by a fair hand,----

_Jup. _ Well, my familiar sons, this saucy carriage
I have deserved; for he, who trusts a secret,
Makes his own man his master.
I read your thoughts;
Therefore you may as safely speak as think.

_Merc. _ Mine was a very homely thought. --I was considering into what
form your almightyship would be pleased to transform yourself to-night:
whether you would fornicate in the shape of a bull, or a ram, or an
eagle, or a swan; what bird or beast you would please to honour, by
transgressing your own laws in his likeness; or, in short, whether you
would recreate yourself in feathers, or in leather?

_Phoe. _ Any disguise to hide the king of gods.

_Jup. _ I know your malice, Phœbus; you would say,
That, when a monarch sins, it should be secret,
To keep exterior shew of sanctity,
Maintain respect, and cover bad example:
For kings and priests are in a manner bound,
For reverence sake, to be close hypocrites.

_Phoe. _ But what necessitates you to this love,
Which you confess a crime, and yet commit?
For, to be secret makes not sin the less;
'Tis only hidden from the vulgar view;
Maintains, indeed, the reverence due to princes,
But not absolves the conscience from the crime.

_Jup. _ I love, because 'twas in the fates I should.

_Phoe. _ With reverence be it spoke, a bad excuse:
Thus every wicked act, in heaven or earth,
May make the same defence. But what is fate?
Is it a blind contingence of events,
Or sure necessity of causes linked,
That must produce effects? Or is't a power,
That orders all things by superior will,
Foresees his work, and works in that foresight?

_Jup. _ Fate is, what I,
By virtue of omnipotence, have made it;
And power omnipotent can do no wrong:
Not to myself, because I will it so;
Nor yet to men, for what they are is mine. --
This night I will enjoy Amphitryon's wife;
For, when I made her, I decreed her such
As I should please to love. I wrong not him
Whose wife she is; for I reserved my right,
To have her while she pleased me; that once past,
She shall be his again.

_Merc. _ Here's omnipotence with a vengeance! to make a man a cuckold,
and yet not to do him wrong! Then I find, father Jupiter, that when you
made fate, you had the wit to contrive a holiday for yourself now and
then; for you kings never enact a law, but you have a kind of an eye to
your own prerogative.

_Phoe. _ If there be no such thing as right and wrong
Of an eternal being, I have done;
But if there be,----

_Jup. _ Peace, thou disputing fool! --
Learn this; If thou could'st comprehend my ways,
Then thou wert Jove, not I; yet thus far know,
That, for the good of human kind, this night
I shall beget a future Hercules,
Who shall redress the wrongs of injured mortals,
Shall conquer monsters, and reform the world.

_Merc. _ Ay, brother Phœbus; and our father made all those monsters for
Hercules to conquer, and contrived all those vices on purpose for him
to reform too, there's the jest on't.

_Phoe. _ Since arbitrary power will hear no reason,
'Tis wisdom to be silent.

_Merc. _ Why that's the point; this same arbitrary power is a knock-down
argument; 'tis but a word and a blow. Now methinks, our father speaks
out like an honest bare-faced god, as he is; he lays the stress in the
right place, upon absolute dominion: I confess, if he had been a man,
he might have been a tyrant, if his subjects durst have called him to
account. But you, brother Phœbus, are but a mere country gentleman,
that never comes to court; that are abroad all day on horseback, making
visits about the world; are drinking all night; and, in your cups
are still railing at the government. O, these patriots, these bumpkin
patriots, are a very silly sort of animal!

_Jup. _ My present purpose and design you heard,
To enjoy Amphitryon's wife, the fair Alcmena:
You two must be subservient to my love.

_Merc. _ [_To Phœbus. _] No more of your grumbletonian morals, brother;
there's preferment coming; be advised, and pimp dutifully.

_Jup. _ Amphitryon, the brave Theban general,
Has overcome his country's foes in fight,
And, in a single duel, slain their king:
His conquering troops are eager on their march
Returning home; while their young general,
More eager to review his beauteous wife,
Posts on before, winged with impetuous love,
And, by to-morrow's dawn, will reach this town.

_Merc. _ That's but short warning, father Jupiter; having made no former
advances of courtship to her, you have need of your omnipotence, and
all your godship, if you mean to be beforehand with him.

_Phoe. _ Then how are we to be employed this evening?
Time's precious, and these summer nights are short;
I must be early up to light the world.

_Jup. _ You shall not rise; there shall be no to-morrow.

_Merc. _ Then the world's to be at an end, I find.

_Phoe. _ Or else a gap in nature of a day.

_Jup. _ A day will be well lost to busy man;
Night shall continue sleep, and care shall cease.
So, many men shall live, and live in peace,
Whom sunshine had betrayed to envious sight,
And sight to sudden rage, and rage to death.
Now, I will have a night for love and me;
A long luxurious night, fit for a god
To quench and empty his immortal heat.

_Merc. _ I'll lay on the woman's side for all that, that she shall love
longest to-night, in spite of your omnipotence.

_Phoe. _ I shall be cursed by all the labouring trades,
That early rise; but you must be obeyed.

_Jup. _ No matter for the cheating part of man,
They have a day's sin less to answer for.

_Phoe. _ When would you have me wake?

_Jup. _ Why, when Jove goes to sleep; when I have finished,
Your brother Mercury shall bring you word. --
[_Exit_ PHŒBUS _in his chariot_.
Now, Hermes, I must take Amphitryon's form,
To enjoy his wife:
Thou must be Sosia, this Amphitryon's slave;
Who, all this night, is travelling to Thebes,
To tell Alcmena of her lord's approach,
And bring her joyful news of victory.

_Merc. _ But why must I be Sosia?

_Jup. _ Dull god of wit, thou statue of thyself!
Thou must be Sosia, to keep out Sosia;
Who, by his entrance, might discover Jove,
Disturb my pleasures, raise unruly noise,
And so distract Alcmena's tender soul,
She would not meet my warmth, when I dissolve
Into her lap, nor give down half her love.

_Merc. _ Let me alone, I'll cudgel him away;
But I abhor so villainous a shape.

_Jup. _ Take it, I charge thee on thy duty, take it;
Nor dare to lay it down, till I command.
I cannot bear a moment's loss of joy. --

NIGHT _appears above in a chariot_.

Look up, the Night is in her silent chariot,
And rolling just o'er Thebes: Bid her drive slowly,
Or make a double turn about the world;
While I drop Jove, and take Amphitryon's dress,
To be the greater, while I seem the less. [_Exit_ JUPITER.

Merc. [_To Night. _] Madam Night, a good even to you! Fair and softly, I
beseech you, madam; I have a word or two to you from no less a god than
Jupiter.

_Night. _ O my nimble-fingered god of theft, what makes you here on
earth at this unseasonable hour? What banker's shop is to be broke open
to-night? or what clippers, and coiners, and conspirators, have been
invoking your deity for their assistance?

_Merc. _ Faith, none of those enormities, and yet I am still in my
vocation; for you know I am a jack of all trades. At a word, Jupiter is
indulging his genius to-night with a certain noble sort of recreation;
called wenching; the truth on't is, adultery is its proper name.

_Night. _ Jupiter would do well to stick to his wife, Juno.

_Merc. _ He has been married to her above these hundred years; and
that's long enough, in conscience, to stick to one woman.

_Night. _ She's his sister too, as well as his wife; that's a double tie
of affection to her.

_Merc. _ Nay, if he made bold with his own flesh and blood, 'tis likely
he will not spare his neighbours.

_Night. _ If I were his wife, I would raise a rebellion against him, for
the violation of my bed.

_Merc. _ Thou art mistaken, old Night; his wife could raise no faction.
All the deities in heaven would take the part of the cuckold-making
god, for they are all given to the flesh most damnably. Nay, the very
goddesses would stickle in the cause of love; 'tis the way to be
popular, to whore and love. For what dost thou think old Saturn was
deposed, but that he was cold and impotent, and made no court to the
fair ladies? Pallas and Juno themselves, as chaste as they are, cried,
_Shame on him! _--I say unto thee, old Night, woe be to the monarch that
has not the women on his side!

_Night. _ Then, by your rule, Mercury, a king who would live happily,
must debauch his whole nation of women.

_Merc.