CRI. I now conceive her heavenly drift in all;
And will apply my spirits to serve her will.
O thou, the very power by which I am,
And but for which it were in vain to be,
Chief next Diana, virgin heavenly fair,
Admired Arete, of them admired
Whose souls are not enkindled by the sense,
Disdain not my chaste fire, but feed the flame
Devoted truly to thy gracious name.
ARE. Leave to suspect us: Crites well shall find,
As we are now most dear, we'll prove most kind.
[WITHIN.] Arete!
ARE. Hark, I am call'd. [EXIT.]
CRI. I follow instantly.
Phoebus Apollo, if with ancient rites,
And due devotions, I have ever hung
Elaborate Paeans on thy golden shrine,
Or sung thy triumphs in a lofty strain,
Fit for a theatre of gods to hear:
And thou, the other son of mighty Jove,
Cyllenian Mercury, sweet Maia's joy,
If in the busy tumults of the mind
My path thou ever hast illumined,
For which thine altars I have oft perfumed,
And deck'd thy statues with discolour'd flowers:
Now thrive invention in this glorious court,
That not of bounty only, but of right,
Cynthia may grace, and give it life by sight. [EXIT.]
SCENE III.
ENTER HESPERUS, CYNTHIA, ARETE, TIME, PHRONESIS, AND THAUMA.
MUSIC ACCOMPANIED. HESPERUS SINGS.
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