







 
   
     
       
         Ariadne deserted by Theseus and found and courted by Bacchus a dramatick piece apted for recitative musick / written and composed by Richard Fleckno.
         Flecknoe, Richard, d. 1678?
      
       
         
           1654
        
      
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         46817
         
           
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             Ariadne deserted by Theseus and found and courted by Bacchus a dramatick piece apted for recitative musick / written and composed by Richard Fleckno.
             Flecknoe, Richard, d. 1678?
          
           [13], 15 p.
           
             [s.n.],
             London printed :
             MDCLIV [1654]
          
           
             Does not include music.
             Reproduction of the original in the Lambeth Palace, London.
          
        
      
    
     
       
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         eng
      
       
         
           Mythology, Greek -- Poetry.
        
      
    
     
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           ARIADNE
           Deserted
           by
           THESEVS
           ,
           And
           Found
           and
           Courted
           by
           BACCHUS
           .
           A
           Dramatick
           Piece
           Apted
           for
           Recitative
           Musick
           .
           Written
           and
           Composed
           by
           
             RICHARD
             FLECKNO
             .
          
        
         
           
             LONDON
             ,
          
           Printed
           
             Anno
             Dom.
          
           MDCLIV
           .
        
      
       
       
       
         
           
             DEDICATED
          
           To
           the
           Dutchess
           of
           
             Richmond
          
           and
           
             Lenox
             ,
          
           her
           Grace
           .
        
         
           
             Madam
             ,
          
        
         
           ACcording
           to
           my
           Accustomances
           of
           making
           my
           Addresses
           always
           to
           the
           Noblest
           and
           Worthiest
           wheresoere
           I
           ●ome
           ;
           permit
           me
           ,
           I
           beseech
           your
           Grace
           ,
           in
           the
           most
           humblest
           and
           respectiv'st
           manner
           ,
           to
           present
           this
           model
           of
           my
           Recitative
           Musick
           to
           your
           fair
           Hands
           ,
           as
           I
           shall
           
           shortly
           my
           Musick
           it self
           ,
           to
           your
           admirable
           faculty
           of
           judging
           and
           understanding
           it
           ,
           as
           also
           to
           subscribe
           my self
           ,
        
         
           
             Madam
             ,
          
           
             Your
             Graces
             most
             Humble
             ,
             most
             Obedient
             ,
             and
             most
             Devoted
             Servant
             ,
             Richard
             Fleckno
             ,
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           PREFACE
           .
        
         
           
             Declaring
             the
             Excellency
             of
             Recitative
             Musick
             ,
          
        
         
           T
           Is
           many
           years
           since
           I
           proposed
           unto
           a
           Soveraign
           Prince
           the
           cong●uity
           ,
           that
           as
           their
           ●ersons
           ,
           so
           their
           Musick
           should
           be
           elevated
           above
           the
           Vulgar
           ,
           and
           made
           not
           only
           to
           delight
           the
           ea●
           but
           also
           their
           understandings
           ;
           not
           patcht
           up
           with
           Songs
           of
           different
           subjects
           ,
           but
           all
           of
           one
           piece
           ,
           with
           design
           and
           plot
           ,
           accommodated
           
           to
           their
           several
           dispositions
           ,
           and
           ocasions
           ;
           which
           they
           then
           gratiously
           pleased
           to
           be
           inclined
           to
           hearken
           to
           ,
           when
           the
           intervening
           of
           certain
           unexpected
           accidents
           ,
           diverted
           their
           ears
           from
           it
           ,
           and
           me
           from
           farther
           thought
           thereof
           ,
           till
           travelling
           into
           
             Italy
          
           I
           found
           that
           Musick
           I
           intended
           to
           introduce
           ,
           exceedingly
           in
           vogue
           ,
           and
           far
           advanced
           towards
           its
           perfection
           ,
           which
           made
           me
           also
           more
           study
           the
           perfectioning
           my self
           therein
           ,
           I
           mean
           Recitative
           Musick
           ,
           being
           a
           compound
           of
           Musick
           and
           Poetry
           together
           ,
           affecting
           the
           mind
           and
           sense
           with
           redoubled
           delight
           ,
           since
           if
           a
           thing
           but
           
           barely
           pronounced
           has
           such
           force
           to
           move
           the
           Soul
           ,
           how
           much
           more
           forcible
           must
           it
           be
           ,
           when
           the
           Harmony
           of
           Musick
           is
           added
           to
           the
           pronuntiation
           ?
        
         
           And
           this
           Musick
           it
           is
           ,
           (
           and
           no
           other
           )
           that
           hath
           wrought
           all
           those
           miracles
           recorded
           in
           antient
           Story
           ;
           this
           t
           is
           that
           preserv●d
           
             Penelope
          
           chast
           ,
           and
           
             Alexander
          
           valorous
           ,
           that
           expels
           evil
           spirits
           ,
           and
           appeases
           troubled
           minds
           ;
           and
           that
           finally
           hath
           caus'd
           all
           those
           admirable
           effects
           of
           Musick
           (
           whether
           real
           ,
           or
           figurative
           )
           perform'd
           by
           
             Amphion
             ,
             Arton
             ,
          
           and
           
             Orpheus
             ,
          
           &c.
           
        
         
           All
           your
           antient
           Musicians
           having
           
           been
           Poets
           too
           ,
           as
           your
           Poets
           Musicians
           ,
           (
           having
           by
           it
           a
           main
           advantage
           of
           best
           expressing
           their
           own
           fancies
           and
           conceptions
           )
           and
           so
           they
           were
           called
           
             Lyricks
             ,
          
           and
           the
           
             Muses
          
           and
           
             Musick
             ,
          
           perhaps
           ,
           were
           but
           reciproque
           denominations
           :
           Nay
           ,
           not
           only
           almost
           all
           the
           
             Erudition
          
           of
           those
           Times
           ,
           but
           even
           the
           
             Religion
          
           too
           was
           delivered
           in
           
             Musick
             ▪
          
           witnes
           the
           
             Canticles
          
           of
           
             Mo●ses
             ,
          
           the
           
             Psalms
          
           of
           
             David
             ,
          
           the
           
             Hymnes
          
           of
           
             Orpheus
             ,
          
           and
           finally
           the
           
             Druads
          
           Songs
           ,
           and
           the
           
             Ballads
          
           of
           the
           
             British
             Bards
             ,
          
           &c.
           
        
         
           Which
           Ballads
           (
           such
           was
           the
           Barbarism
           of
           insuing
           times
           )
           was
           in
           manner
           the
           sole
           relict
           of
           this
           divine
           
           Science
           ,
           untill
           
             Claudio
             Montanendo
          
           (
           in
           our
           Fathers
           days
           )
           principally
           ,
           revived
           ,
           it
           shall
           I
           say
           ?
           or
           renewed
           it
           again
           by
           his
           admirable
           Skill
           (
           like
           another
           
             Prometheus
          
           )
           conjoyning
           in
           one
           body
           again
           the
           scattered
           limbs
           of
           
             Orpheus
             (
             Musick
          
           &
           
             Poetry
          
           )
           which
           the
           ignorance
           of
           Poets
           and
           Musicians
           had
           separated
           ,
           and
           disseered
           :
           The
           Italian
           of
           all
           other
           Languages
           being
           most
           happy
           in
           it
           ,
           in
           having
           their
           Tongue
           and
           
             Genius
          
           apted
           to
           it
           ;
           the
           
             Spanish
             Genius
          
           not
           lying
           that
           way
           ,
           though
           there
           Tongue
           be
           fit
           enough
           ;
           nor
           our
           Tongue
           fit
           for
           it
           ,
           though
           the
           
             Genius
          
           be
           not
           wanting
           .
           Now
           the
           advantage
           the
           
           Italian
           tongue
           hath
           of
           ours
           in
           it
           ,
           is
           chiefly
           ,
           as
           I
           conceive
           ,
           in
           the
           strength
           of
           their
           words
           ,
           they
           being
           composed
           more
           of
           the
           A
           ,
           and
           O
           ,
           (
           the
           sinewousness
           of
           a
           Tongue
           )
           as
           also
           the
           length
           of
           them
           ,
           whereby
           each
           one
           is
           able
           to
           sustain
           it self
           ;
           whereas
           our
           Language
           is
           so
           debile
           and
           weak
           ,
           as
           our
           words
           die
           in
           a
           manner
           as
           soon
           as
           born
           ,
           not
           being
           able
           scarcely
           to
           brook
           the
           air
           ;
           Ending
           also
           so
           faintly
           and
           feebly
           for
           want
           of
           length
           ,
           as
           they
           are
           forced
           to
           fall
           upon
           the
           next
           following
           for
           their
           support
           ,
           whence
           comes
           the
           difficulty
           of
           pronouncing
           our
           words
           distinctly
           ,
           or
           understanding
           our
           
           Language
           when
           it
           is
           sung
           ;
           which
           Inconvenience
           to
           Remedy
           ,
           I
           concluded
           first
           ,
           That
           your
           long
           discourses
           ,
           and
           periods
           ,
           were
           carefully
           to
           be
           avoided
           by
           us
           ,
           in
           Recitative
           Musick
           ,
           that
           so
           the
           often
           coming
           to
           a
           close
           ,
           might
           make
           up
           in
           the
           full
           stop
           ,
           our
           words
           want
           of
           length
           ,
           and
           by
           severall
           reprises
           more
           strengthen
           them
           .
           Next
           ,
           your
           curious
           recerched
           words
           out
           of
           the
           way
           of
           common
           understanding
           ,
           were
           carefully
           to
           be
           avoided
           ,
           since
           the
           main
           Reason
           ,
           why
           commonly
           we
           understand
           not
           so
           well
           when
           one
           sings
           ,
           as
           when
           they
           write
           ,
           is
           ,
           because
           the
           delightsomness
           of
           the
           
           Harmony
           ,
           takes
           part
           of
           the
           Attention
           away
           from
           the
           understandin●
           of
           the
           words
           ;
           whence
           the
           words
           consequently
           are
           to
           be
           made
           as
           facile
           as
           may
           be
           ,
           the
           better
           to
           be
           understood
           .
        
         
           Where
           I
           cannot
           but
           note
           their
           want
           of
           judgment
           ,
           who
           have
           endevoured
           to
           imitate
           at
           all
           parts
           in
           our
           language
           the
           Italian
           Recitative
           Musick
           ,
           not
           considering
           ,
           that
           the
           Musick
           of
           all
           Nations
           is
           cast
           in
           the
           mould
           of
           their
           language
           ,
           whence
           there
           being
           great
           difference
           betvvixt
           their
           verbosity
           ,
           and
           our
           concised
           speech
           ,
           it
           consequently
           follows
           ,
           that
           that
           difference
           should
           
           also
           be
           betwixt
           their
           Musick
           and
           Poetry
           ,
           and
           ours
           .
        
         
           To
           conclude
           then
           ,
           you
           may
           observe
           in
           this
           composition
           of
           mine
           ,
           a
           particular
           way
           of
           Recitative
           ,
           different
           from
           the
           Italian
           ,
           as
           our
           language
           is
           different
           ;
           insomuch
           ,
           as
           though
           others
           ,
           both
           in
           Italian
           and
           English
           ,
           have
           composed
           upon
           this
           subject
           ,
           I
           am
           confident
           yet
           ,
           whosoever
           peruses
           them
           wil
           absolve
           me
           of
           theft
           frō
           either
           ,
           so
           have
           I
           endevour'd
           short
           periods
           ,
           and
           frequent
           rithmes
           ,
           with
           words
           smooth
           and
           facile
           ,
           such
           as
           most
           easily
           might
           enter
           into
           the
           mind
           ,
           and
           be
           digested
           by
           the
           understanding
           ;
           studying
           nothing
           so
           
           much
           ,
           as
           that
           my
           words
           should
           not
           at
           all
           appear
           studious
           ,
           your
           
             difficiles
             nugae
             ,
          
           or
           difficil
           toyes
           ,
           being
           in
           nothing
           more
           ridiculous
           than
           in
           this
           ;
           with
           finally
           a
           pathetickness
           in
           lieu
           of
           all
           other
           Rhetorick
           ,
           having
           observ'd
           ,
           that
           your
           Italian
           Orators
           ,
           with
           an
           Oh
           or
           a
           
             Misericordia
             ,
          
           do
           more
           move
           their
           Auditors
           to
           tears
           and
           compunction
           ,
           than
           with
           all
           their
           curious
           Rhetorick
           besides
           .
        
         
           Of
           the
           composition
           of
           the
           Musick
           ,
           I
           shall
           defer
           to
           speak
           ,
           untill
           the
           publishing
           of
           it
           ,
           as
           shortly
           I
           intend
           to
           do
           ▪
           with
           a
           Treatise
           of
           the
           Air
           of
           Musick
           ,
           and
           of
           this
           in
           particular
           ,
           to
           shew
           ,
           that
           as
           no
           composition
           seems
           
           more
           easy
           to
           the
           ignorant
           than
           it
           ,
           so
           none
           is
           more
           hard
           to
           those
           who
           understand
           it
           .
        
         
           Hoping
           that
           I
           shall
           not
           appear
           to
           have
           ill
           merited
           of
           my
           Country
           ,
           in
           studying
           Musick
           and
           Concord
           ,
           whilst
           others
           study
           only
           discord
           &
           dissention
           ;
           and
           in
           striving
           to
           delight
           ra●her
           than
           contristat
           it
           ,
           in
           the
           sad
           and
           sorrowfull
           condition
           wherein
           it
           is
           .
        
      
    
     
       
       
       
         
           ARIADNE
           .
        
         
           the
           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
           ,
           (
           supposed
           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
               ;
            
             
             
               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
           winged
           heads
           ,
           puffing
           out
           of
           bigg-swoln
           clouds
           ,
           and
           the
           second
           by
           the
           
             Nereides
             ,
          
           or
           Sea-Nimphs
           ,
           
             Syren-like
             ,
          
        
         
           Sing
           this
           in
           
             Chorus
             .
          
        
         
           
             T
             Is
             still
             the
             Heavens
             peculiar
             care
             ,
          
           
             Of
             all
             that
             's
             nobly
             Good
             ,
             and
             Fair
             ,
          
           
             That
             when
             they
             suffer
             ,
             every
             one
          
           
             Claims
             right
             to
             soft
             compassion
             ;
          
           
           
             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
           Lamentations
           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
               .
            
             
             
               As
               't
               is
               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
               Anger
               's
               sacrifice
               :
            
             
               When
               thou
               pale
               trembling
               
                 Theseus
              
               then
               ,
            
             
               Wretchedst
               of
               Men
               ,
            
             
               Shalt
               find
               ,
               when
               't
               is
               too
               late
               ,
            
             
               "
               
                 Nothing
                 's
                 more
                 cruel
                 than
                 a
                 Lovers
                 hate
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
         
           
             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
               .
            
          
        
         
         
           Here
           ,
           after
           sad
           Musick
           ,
           she
           falls
           into
           a
           passion
           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
           
           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
           drinking
           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
             .
          
        
         
         
           Here
           
             Bacchus
          
           appears
           ,
           habited
           like
           a
           Conquerour
           ,
           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
               ,
            
          
        
         
         
           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
               .
            
             
             
               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
               .
            
          
        
         
         
           
             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
             .
          
        
         
         
           
             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
             .
          
        
         
         
           
             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
               —
            
             
             
               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
               't
               is
               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
               ,
            
             
             
               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
        
      
    
     
       
         Notes, typically marginal, from the original text
      
       
         Known defects for A39702.xml
         
            Defect summary
           20 missing or defective tokens
        
         
           known defects on page A39702-002-b
           incomplete or missing word on page 2-b, word 77: ●ome
        
         
           known defects on page A39702-003-b
           incomplete or missing word on page 3-b, word 186: cong●uity
           incomplete or missing word on page 3-b, word 191: ●ersons
           incomplete or missing word on page 3-b, word 210: ea●
        
         
           known defects on page A39702-004-b
           incomplete or missing word on page 4-b, word 397: preserv●d
        
         
           known defects on page A39702-005-a
           incomplete or missing word on page 5-a, word 521: Mo●ses
        
         
           known defects on page A39702-007-a
           incomplete or missing word on page 7-a, word 934: understandin●
        
         
           known defects on page A39702-008-b
           incomplete or missing word on page 8-b, word 1320: ra●her
        
         
           known defects on page A39702-014-a
           incomplete or missing word on page 14-a, word 2807: e'●
        
         
           known defects on page A39702-015-b
           incomplete or missing word on page 15-b, word 3177: com●ted
           incomplete or missing word on page 15-b, word 3184: Addres●
           incomplete or missing word on page 15-b, word 3211: ●ign
           incomplete or missing word on page 15-b, word 3218: ●●o
           incomplete or missing word on page 15-b, word 3224: ●●at
           incomplete or missing word on page 15-b, word 3239: ●old
           incomplete or missing word on page 15-b, word 3246: ●nd
           incomplete or missing word on page 15-b, word 3262: ●vaunt
        
         
           known defects on page A39702-016-a
           incomplete or missing word on page 16-a, word 3359: mus●
        
      
    
  

