I, that am glad, thy Innocence was thy Guilt,
And wish that all the_ Muses _blood were spilt
In such a_ Martyrdome, _to vex their eyes,
Do crown thy murdred_ Poeme: _which shall rise
A glorified work to Time, when Fire,
Or mothes shall eat, what all these Fools admire._
BEN. JONSON.
This Dialogue newly added, was spoken by way of Prologue to both their
Majesties, at the first acting of this Pastoral at _Somerset-house_ on
Twelfth-night, 1633.
Priest.
_A broiling Lamb on_ Pans _chief Altar lies,
My Wreath, my Censor, Virge, and Incense by:
But I delayed the pretious Sacrifice,
To shew thee here, a Gentle Deity._
Nymph.
_Nor was I to thy sacred Summons slow,
Hither I came as swift as th' Eagles wing,
Or threatning shaft from vext_ Dianaes _bow,
To see this Islands God; the worlds best King._
Priest.
_Bless then that Queen, that doth his eyes invite
And ears, t'obey her Scepter, half this night._
Nymph.
_Let's sing such welcomes, as shall make Her sway
Seem easie to Him, though it last till day.
Welcom as Peace t'unwalled Cities, when
Famine and Sword leave them more graves than men.
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