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Pleasant dialogues and dramma's

selected out of Lucian, Erasmus, Textor, Ovid, &c. ... By Tho. Heywood

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Cupid, the Prologue.
  
  
  
  
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Cupid, the Prologue.

Who so unread; doth not of Plato heare
His Annus magnus, and his vertent yeare?
In which the Starres and Planets, Moone and Sunne,
Tyr'd with continuall labour, having runne
So many ages long peregrination,
Each returnes fresh and new to their first station.
This is the yeare sure; rather this the day
Able to turne November into May.
This day's in heaven a Iubilee of joy,
Where Angels sing in quires Vive la Roy.
This is the royall birth-day of a King,
Then Men with Angels, Iô Pœan sing.
I'had almost lost my selfe: when my intent
Was to tell why I come; and from whom sent;
From one, to whom I'm but a shadow; shee
The very soule of amabilitie.
One that without my quiver and my bow,
Commands the hearts, and eyes of high and low.
Whose name inscrib'd here did you but behold,
T'would change the sooty Inke to liquid gold.
Of fulgent beauty, but so pure a mind,
As if tinctur'd from heaven, and so divin'd.
I Love from Love am sent, but she the right,
Then grace great King the Triumphs of loves night.