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First Music

Hornpipe

Second Music

Hornpipe

(The curtain rises)

Overture - Trumpet Tune



FIRST ACT


BOY
Wake, Quivera, wake,
our soft rest must cease,
And fly together with our country's peace;
No more must we sleep under plantain's shade,
Which neither heat could pierce nor cold invade;
Where bounteous nature never feels decay,
And opening buds drive falling fruits away.

GIRL (Quivera)
Why should men quarrel here,where all possess
As much as they can hope for by success?
None can have most where nature is so kind
As to exceed man's use,
though not his mind.

BOY
By ancient prophecy we have been told,
Our land shall be subdu'd
by one more old;
And see that world already hither come.

GIRL, BOY
If these be they we welcome then our doom.

BOY
Their looks are such that mercy flows from hence,
More gentle than our native innocence;
By their protection let us beg to live:
They come not here to conquer, but forgive.

GIRL, BOY
If so your goodness may your power express,
And we shall judge both best by our success.

Trumpet Tune



SECOND ACT


Symphony

FAME AND CHORUS
I come to sing great Zempoalla's story
Whose beauteous sight so charming bright
Outshines the lustre of glory.
We come to sing great Zempoalla's story
Whose beauteous sight so charming bright
Outshines the lustre of glory.

ENVY AND TWO FOLLOWERS
What flattering noise is this,
At which my snakes all hiss?
I hate to see fond tongues advance
High as the Gods the slaves of chance.
What flattering noise is this,
At which my snakes all hiss?

FAME
Scorn'd Envy,
here's nothing that thou canst blast:
Her glories are too bright
to be o'ercast.

ENVY AND FOLLOWERS
I fly from the place
where flattery reigns,
See those mighty things that before
Such slaves like gods did adore
Condemn'd and unpitied in chains.
I fly from the place where flattery reigns.
I hate to see fond tongues advance
High as the Gods the slaves of chance.
What flattering noise is this,
At which my snakes all hiss?

FAME
Begone, curst fiends of Hell,
Sink down, where noisome vapours dwell,
While I her triumph sound,
To fill the universe around.

FAME AND CHORUS
I come to sing great Zempoalla's story
Whose beauteous sight so charming bright
Outshines the lustre of glory.
We come to sing great Zempoalla's story
Whose beauteous sight so charming bright
Outshines the lustre of glory.



THIRD ACT


ISMERON
Ye twice ten hundred deities
To whom we daily sacrifice,
Ye pow'rs that dwell with fates below
And see what men are doom'd to do,
Where elements in discord dwell:
Thou god of sleep arise and tell
Great Zempoalla what strange fate
Must on her dismal vision wait.
By the croaking of the toad
In their caves that make abode,
Earthy dun that pants for breath
With her swell'd sides full of death,
By the crested adders' pride
That along the cliffs do glide,
By thy visage fierce and black,
By the death's head on thy back,
By the twisted serpents plac'd
For a girdle round thy waist,
By the hearts of gold that deck
Thy breast, thy shoulders and thy neck,
From thy sleeping mansion rise
And open thy unwilling eyes,
While bubbling springs their music keep,
That used to lull thee in thy sleep.

Symphony: (The God of Dreams rises)

GOD OF DREAMS
Seek not to know what must not be reveal'd,
Joys only flow
when hate is most conceal'd.
Too busy man would find his sorrows more
If future fortunes he should know before;
For by that knowledge of his destiny
He would not live
at all but always die.
Enquire not then who shall from bonds be freed,
Who'tis shall wear a crown
and who shall bleed.
All must submit to their appointed doom,
Fate and misfortune will too quickly come.
Let me no more with powerful charms be press'd
I am forbid by fate to tell the rest.

Trumpet Overture

AERIAL SPIRITS
Ah, how happy are we!
From human passions free.
Ah, how happy are we!
Those wild tenants of the breast,
No, never can disturb our rest.
Ah, how happy are we!
Yet we pity tender souls
Whom the tyrant of love controls,
Ah, how happy are we,
From human passions free!
We the spirits of the air
That of human things take care,
Out of pity now descend
To forewarn what woes attend.
Greatness clogg'd with scorn decays,
With the slave no empire stays.
We the spirits of the air
That of human things take care,
Out of pity now descend
To forewarn what woes attend.
Cease to languish the in vain
Since never to be loved again.
We the spirits of the air
That of human things take care,
Out of pity now descend
To forewarn what woes attend.

ZEMPOALLA
I attempt from love's sickness to fly in vain,
Since I am myself my own fever and pain.
No more now, fond heart,
with pride no more swell;
Thou canst not raise forces enough to rebel.
I attempt from love's sickness to fly in vain,
Since I am myself my own fever and pain.
For love has more power
and less mercy than fate,
To make us seek ruin and of those that hate.
I attempt from love's sickness to fly in vain,
Since I am myself my own fever and pain.

Third Act Tune: Rondeau



FOURTH ACT


ORAZIA
They tell us that your might powers above
Make perfect your joys
and your blessings by love,
Ah! Why do you suffer the blessing that's there
To give a poor lover such a sad torments here?
Yet though for my passion such grief I endure,
My love shall like yours still
be constant and pure.
To suffer for him gives an ease to my pains;
There's joy in my grief
and there's freedom in chains.
If I were divine he cou'd love me no more,
And I in return my adorer adore,
O, let his dear life then, kind gods, be your care,
For I in your blessing have no other share.

Fourth Act Tune: Air


FIFTH ACT


CHORUS
While thus we bow before your shrine,
That you may hear great pow'rs divine,
All living things shall in your praises join.

HIGH PRIEST
You who at the altar stand
Waiting for the dread command
The fatal word shall soon be heard,
Answer then, is all prepared?

CHORUS
All's prepared.

HIGH PRIEST
Let all unallow'd souls begone
Before our sacred rites come on.
Take care that this be also done.

CHORUS
All is done.

HIGH PRIEST
Now in procession walk along
And then begin your solemn song.

CHORUS
All dismal sounds thus on these off'rings wait,
Your pow'r shown by their untimely fate;
While by such various fates we learn to know,
There's nothing, no, nothing to be trusted here below.

The Masque of Hymen (1695)

Masquerade de Daniel Purcell

Symphony

HYMEN
To bless the genial bed
with chaste delights,
To give you happy days and pleasant nights,
Lo! I appear to crown your soft desires,
And with this sacred torch
to consecrate Love’s fires.

A FOLLOWER OF HYMEN
Come all, come all,
Come, come at my call,
Heroes and lovers, come away,
Come all, and praise this glorious day.

CHORUS
Come all, and sing great Hymen’s praise,
The god who makes the darkest night
Appear more joyful and more bright
Than thousands of victorious days.

TWO MARRIED PEOPLE
He I’m glad I have met him.
She Let me come at him!
He Bane of passion,
She pleasure’s curse!
Both Confounded inventor of better for worse!
You told us indeed you’d heap blessings upon us,
You made us believe you, and so have undone us.
He In railing
She and wailing,
Both Lamenting, repenting,
we pass all our days,
What stomach have we to sing thy praise?

HYMEN
Good people, I’d make you all blest if I could,
But he that can do it must be more than a god;
And though you think now perhaps you are curst,
I’ll warrant you thought yourselves happy at first.

TWO MARRIED PEOPLE
She My honey, my pug,
He My fetters, my clog,
Both Let’s tamely jog on as others have done,
She And sometimes at quiet,
He But oft’ner at strife,
Both Let’s hug the tedious load of a married life.

CUPID
The joys of wedlock soon are past,
But I, if I please, can make ’em last.
Where love’s a trade
and hearts are sold,
How weak’s the fire, how soon ’tis cold!
The flame increases and refines
Where virtue and where merit joins.

FOLLOWER OF CUPID
Sound, sound the trumpet,
let Love’s subjects know,
From Heav’n’s high vault
to Erebus below,
That from this hour
their discords all shall cease;
Love, that can only do it, will give ’em peace.

TWO FOLLOWERS OF CUPID
Make haste, make haste
to put on Love’s chains,
Ye heroes that delight in arms!
Forsake fond honour’s gaudy charms;
And join your trumpets to our rural strains.

Trumpet Air

GRAND CHORUS
Let loud Renown
with all her thousand tongues
Repeat no name but his in her immortal songs.
First Music

Hornpipe

Second Music

Hornpipe

(The curtain rises)

Overture - Trumpet Tune



FIRST ACT


BOY
Wake, Quivera, wake,
our soft rest must cease,
And fly together with our country's peace;
No more must we sleep under plantain's shade,
Which neither heat could pierce nor cold invade;
Where bounteous nature never feels decay,
And opening buds drive falling fruits away.

GIRL (Quivera)
Why should men quarrel here,where all possess
As much as they can hope for by success?
None can have most where nature is so kind
As to exceed man's use,
though not his mind.

BOY
By ancient prophecy we have been told,
Our land shall be subdu'd
by one more old;
And see that world already hither come.

GIRL, BOY
If these be they we welcome then our doom.

BOY
Their looks are such that mercy flows from hence,
More gentle than our native innocence;
By their protection let us beg to live:
They come not here to conquer, but forgive.

GIRL, BOY
If so your goodness may your power express,
And we shall judge both best by our success.

Trumpet Tune



SECOND ACT


Symphony

FAME AND CHORUS
I come to sing great Zempoalla's story
Whose beauteous sight so charming bright
Outshines the lustre of glory.
We come to sing great Zempoalla's story
Whose beauteous sight so charming bright
Outshines the lustre of glory.

ENVY AND TWO FOLLOWERS
What flattering noise is this,
At which my snakes all hiss?
I hate to see fond tongues advance
High as the Gods the slaves of chance.
What flattering noise is this,
At which my snakes all hiss?

FAME
Scorn'd Envy,
here's nothing that thou canst blast:
Her glories are too bright
to be o'ercast.

ENVY AND FOLLOWERS
I fly from the place
where flattery reigns,
See those mighty things that before
Such slaves like gods did adore
Condemn'd and unpitied in chains.
I fly from the place where flattery reigns.
I hate to see fond tongues advance
High as the Gods the slaves of chance.
What flattering noise is this,
At which my snakes all hiss?

FAME
Begone, curst fiends of Hell,
Sink down, where noisome vapours dwell,
While I her triumph sound,
To fill the universe around.

FAME AND CHORUS
I come to sing great Zempoalla's story
Whose beauteous sight so charming bright
Outshines the lustre of glory.
We come to sing great Zempoalla's story
Whose beauteous sight so charming bright
Outshines the lustre of glory.



THIRD ACT


ISMERON
Ye twice ten hundred deities
To whom we daily sacrifice,
Ye pow'rs that dwell with fates below
And see what men are doom'd to do,
Where elements in discord dwell:
Thou god of sleep arise and tell
Great Zempoalla what strange fate
Must on her dismal vision wait.
By the croaking of the toad
In their caves that make abode,
Earthy dun that pants for breath
With her swell'd sides full of death,
By the crested adders' pride
That along the cliffs do glide,
By thy visage fierce and black,
By the death's head on thy back,
By the twisted serpents plac'd
For a girdle round thy waist,
By the hearts of gold that deck
Thy breast, thy shoulders and thy neck,
From thy sleeping mansion rise
And open thy unwilling eyes,
While bubbling springs their music keep,
That used to lull thee in thy sleep.

Symphony: (The God of Dreams rises)

GOD OF DREAMS
Seek not to know what must not be reveal'd,
Joys only flow
when hate is most conceal'd.
Too busy man would find his sorrows more
If future fortunes he should know before;
For by that knowledge of his destiny
He would not live
at all but always die.
Enquire not then who shall from bonds be freed,
Who'tis shall wear a crown
and who shall bleed.
All must submit to their appointed doom,
Fate and misfortune will too quickly come.
Let me no more with powerful charms be press'd
I am forbid by fate to tell the rest.

Trumpet Overture

AERIAL SPIRITS
Ah, how happy are we!
From human passions free.
Ah, how happy are we!
Those wild tenants of the breast,
No, never can disturb our rest.
Ah, how happy are we!
Yet we pity tender souls
Whom the tyrant of love controls,
Ah, how happy are we,
From human passions free!
We the spirits of the air
That of human things take care,
Out of pity now descend
To forewarn what woes attend.
Greatness clogg'd with scorn decays,
With the slave no empire stays.
We the spirits of the air
That of human things take care,
Out of pity now descend
To forewarn what woes attend.
Cease to languish the in vain
Since never to be loved again.
We the spirits of the air
That of human things take care,
Out of pity now descend
To forewarn what woes attend.

ZEMPOALLA
I attempt from love's sickness to fly in vain,
Since I am myself my own fever and pain.
No more now, fond heart,
with pride no more swell;
Thou canst not raise forces enough to rebel.
I attempt from love's sickness to fly in vain,
Since I am myself my own fever and pain.
For love has more power
and less mercy than fate,
To make us seek ruin and of those that hate.
I attempt from love's sickness to fly in vain,
Since I am myself my own fever and pain.

Third Act Tune: Rondeau



FOURTH ACT


ORAZIA
They tell us that your might powers above
Make perfect your joys
and your blessings by love,
Ah! Why do you suffer the blessing that's there
To give a poor lover such a sad torments here?
Yet though for my passion such grief I endure,
My love shall like yours still
be constant and pure.
To suffer for him gives an ease to my pains;
There's joy in my grief
and there's freedom in chains.
If I were divine he cou'd love me no more,
And I in return my adorer adore,
O, let his dear life then, kind gods, be your care,
For I in your blessing have no other share.

Fourth Act Tune: Air


FIFTH ACT


CHORUS
While thus we bow before your shrine,
That you may hear great pow'rs divine,
All living things shall in your praises join.

HIGH PRIEST
You who at the altar stand
Waiting for the dread command
The fatal word shall soon be heard,
Answer then, is all prepared?

CHORUS
All's prepared.

HIGH PRIEST
Let all unallow'd souls begone
Before our sacred rites come on.
Take care that this be also done.

CHORUS
All is done.

HIGH PRIEST
Now in procession walk along
And then begin your solemn song.

CHORUS
All dismal sounds thus on these off'rings wait,
Your pow'r shown by their untimely fate;
While by such various fates we learn to know,
There's nothing, no, nothing to be trusted here below.

The Masque of Hymen (1695)

Masquerade de Daniel Purcell

Symphony

HYMEN
To bless the genial bed
with chaste delights,
To give you happy days and pleasant nights,
Lo! I appear to crown your soft desires,
And with this sacred torch
to consecrate Love’s fires.

A FOLLOWER OF HYMEN
Come all, come all,
Come, come at my call,
Heroes and lovers, come away,
Come all, and praise this glorious day.

CHORUS
Come all, and sing great Hymen’s praise,
The god who makes the darkest night
Appear more joyful and more bright
Than thousands of victorious days.

TWO MARRIED PEOPLE
He I’m glad I have met him.
She Let me come at him!
He Bane of passion,
She pleasure’s curse!
Both Confounded inventor of better for worse!
You told us indeed you’d heap blessings upon us,
You made us believe you, and so have undone us.
He In railing
She and wailing,
Both Lamenting, repenting,
we pass all our days,
What stomach have we to sing thy praise?

HYMEN
Good people, I’d make you all blest if I could,
But he that can do it must be more than a god;
And though you think now perhaps you are curst,
I’ll warrant you thought yourselves happy at first.

TWO MARRIED PEOPLE
She My honey, my pug,
He My fetters, my clog,
Both Let’s tamely jog on as others have done,
She And sometimes at quiet,
He But oft’ner at strife,
Both Let’s hug the tedious load of a married life.

CUPID
The joys of wedlock soon are past,
But I, if I please, can make ’em last.
Where love’s a trade
and hearts are sold,
How weak’s the fire, how soon ’tis cold!
The flame increases and refines
Where virtue and where merit joins.

FOLLOWER OF CUPID
Sound, sound the trumpet,
let Love’s subjects know,
From Heav’n’s high vault
to Erebus below,
That from this hour
their discords all shall cease;
Love, that can only do it, will give ’em peace.

TWO FOLLOWERS OF CUPID
Make haste, make haste
to put on Love’s chains,
Ye heroes that delight in arms!
Forsake fond honour’s gaudy charms;
And join your trumpets to our rural strains.

Trumpet Air

GRAND CHORUS
Let loud Renown
with all her thousand tongues
Repeat no name but his in her immortal songs.



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