But see, O see! the weary Sun for rest Hath lain his golden compass to the West, Where he perpetual bide and ever shine, As David's off-spring, in his happy Clime.
Stoop, Envy, stoop, bow to the Earth with me, Let's beg our Pardons on our bended knee.
[They kneel.]
ENVY.
My Power has lost her Might; Envy's date's expired.
Yon splendant Majesty hath felled my sting, And I amazed am.
[Fall down and quake.]
COMEDY.
Glorious and wise Arch-Caesar on this earth, At whose appearance, Envy's stroken dumb, And all bad things cease operation:
Vouchsafe to pardon our unwilling error, So late presented to your Gracious view, And we'll endeavour with excess of pain, To please your senses in a choicer strain.
Thus we commit you to the arms of Night, Whose spangled carcass would, for your delight, Strive to excell the Day; be blessed, then:
Who other wishes, let him never speak.
ENVY.
Amen.
To Fame and Honour we commend your rest; Live still more happy, every hour more blest.
FINIS.
