gods, and Innocence are left.

_Alb._ Ah! what canst thou avail,
Against rebellion armed with zeal,
And faced with public good?
O monarchs, see
Your fate in me!
To rule by love,
To shed no blood,
May be extolled above;
But here below,
Let princes know,
'Tis fatal to be good.

_Chorus of both._ To rule by love, _&c._

_Aca._ Your father Neptune, from the seas,
Has Nereids and blue Tritons sent,
To charm your discontent.

_Nereids rise out of the Sea, and sing; Tritons dance._

From the low palace of old father Ocean,
Come we in pity your cares to deplore;
Sea-racing dolphins are trained for our motion,
Moony tides swelling to roll us ashore.

II.

Every nymph of the flood, her tresses rending,
Throws off her armlet of pearl in the main;
Neptune in anguish his charge unattending,
Vessels are foundering, and vows are in vain.

_Enter_ TYRANNY, DEMOCRACY, _represented by Men, attended by_ ASEBIA
_and_ ZELOTA, Women._

_Tyr._ Ha, ha! 'tis what so long I wished and vowed:
Our plots and delusions
Have wrought such confusions,
That the monarch's a slave to the crowd.

_Dem._ A design we fomented,--

_Tyr._ By hell it was new!

_Dem._ A false plot invented,--

_Tyr._ To cover a true.

_Dem._ First with promised faith we flattered.

_Tyr._ Then jealousies and fears we scattered.

_Aseb._ We never valued right and wrong,
But as they served our cause.

_Zel._ Our business was to please the throng,
And court their wild applause;

_Aseb._ For this we bribed the lawyer's tongue.
And then destroyed the laws.

_Cho._ For this, &c.

_Tyr._ To make him safe, we made his friends our prey;

_Dem._ To make him great, we scorned his royal sway,--

_Tyr._ And to confirm his crown, we took his heir away.

_Dem._ To encrease his store,
We kept him poor;

_Tyr._ And when to wants we had betrayed him,
To keep him low,
Pronounced a foe,
Whoe'er presumed to aid him.

_Aseb._ But you forget the noblest part,
And master piece of all your art,--
You told him he was sick at heart.

_Zel._ And when you could not work belief
In Albion of the imagined grief;
Your perjured vouchers, in a breath,
Made oath, that he was sick to death;
And then five hundred quacks of skill
Resolved, 'twas fit he should be ill.

_Aseb._ Now hey for a common-wealth,
We merrily drink and sing!
'Tis to the nation's health,
For every man's a king.

_Zel._ Then let the mask begin,
The Saints advance,
To fill the da