[Exeunt.
Enter three or foure Muses, Aramanthus, Ascanio,
Silvio, and Gemulo.
Asca. Cease your contention for Eurymine,
Nor word nor vowes can helpe her miserie;
But he it is, that did her first transform,
Must calme the gloomy rigor of this storme,
Great Phoebus whose pallace we are neere.
Salute him, then, in his celestiall sphere,
That with the notes of cheerful harmonie
He may be mov'd to shewe his Deitie.
Sil. But wheres Eurymine? have we lost her sight?
As. Poore soule! within a cave, with feare affright,
She sits to shun Appollos angry view
Until she sees what of our prayers ensue,
If we can reconcile his love or no,
Or that she must continue in her woe.
1 Mu. Once have we tried, Ascanio, for thy sake,
And once againe we will his power awake,
Not doubting but, as he is of heavenly race,
At length he will take pitie on her case.
Sing therefore, and each partie, from his heart,
In this our musicke beare a chearfull part.
SONG.
All haile, faire Phoebus, in thy purple throne!
Vouchsafe the regarding of our deep mone;
Hide not, oh hide not, thy comfortable face,
But pittie, but pittie, a virgins poore case.
Phoebus appeares.
1 Mu. Illustrate bewtie, Chrystall heavens eye,
Once more we do entreat thy clemencie
That, as thou art the power of us all,
Thou wouldst redeeme Eurymine from thrall.
Graunt, gentle God, graunt this our small request,
And, if abilitie in us do rest,
Whereby we ever may deserve the same,
It shall be seene we reverence Phoebus name.