CHORUS

No, no 'tis none of thine. Do, do, shoot only there. A new new Sun is God. See, see, he now comes forth. Oh grief! had list not tarry. Joys slide away Like streams. Dry, dry, your weeping eyes. Earth has not such a King. The populous Globe of this our English I'll, Seemed to move backward, at the funeral pile, Of her dead female Majesty. All states From Nobles down to spirits of meaner Fares, Mooude opposite to Nature and to Peace, As if these men had been That Antipodes, But see, the virtue of a Regal eye, Th'attractiue wonder of men Majesty, Our Globe is drawn in a right line again, And now appear new faces, and new men. The Elements, Earth, Water, Air, and Fire, (Which ever clipped a natural desire, To combat each with other, being at first,) Created enemies to fight their worst, See at the peaceful presence of their King, How quietly they moude, without their sting: Earth not devouring, Fire not defacing, Waternot drowning, & the Air not chasing: But proping the quaint Fabric that here stands, Without the violence of their wrathful hands. Mirror of times, lo where thy Fotune sits, Above the world, and all our human wits, But thy hie Virtue above that: what pen, Or Art, or brain can reach thy virtue then? At whose immortal brightness and true light, Envies infectious eyes have lost their sighed, Her snakes (not daring to shoot-forth their stings Gainst such a glorious object) down she flings Their forks of Venom into her own maw, While her rank teeth the glittering poisons chew, For 'tis the property of Envies blood, To dry away at every kingdoms good, Especially when she had eyes to view, These four main virtues figure all in you, Justice in causes, Fortitude gainstfoes, Temperance in spleen, and Prudence in all those, And then so rich and Empire, whose fair breast, Contains four Kingdoms by your entrance blessed By Brutus divided, but by you alone, All are again united and made One, Whose fruitful glories shine so far and even, They touch not only earth, but they kiss heaven, From whence Astraea is descended hither, Who with our last Queens Spirit, fled up thither, Foreknowing on the earth, she could not rest, Till you had locked her in your rightful breast. And therefore all Estates, whose proper Arts, Live by the breath of Majesty, had hearts Burning in holy Zeals immaculate fires, With quenchless Ardors, and unstained desires, To see what they now see, your powerful Grace, Reflecting joys on every Subject's face: These painted flames and yellow burning Stripes, Upon this robe, being but as shows and types, Of that great Zeal. And therefore in the name Of this glad City, whither no Prince ever came, More loved, more longed for, lowly I entreat, You'd be to her as gracious as you're great: So with reverberate shouts our Globe shall ring, The Musics close being thus: God save our King.