_Merc._ Presumptuous _Iris_, I could make thee dance, Till thou forgetst thy Ladies messages, And rann'st back crying to her; thou shalt know My power is more, only my breath, and this Shall move fix'd Stars, and force the Firmament To yield the Hyades, who govern showers, And dewy clouds, in whose dispersed drops Thou form'st the shape of thy deceitful Bow. Y[ou] Maids, who yearly at appointed times Advance with kindly tears, the gentle floods Discend, and pour your blessing on these streams, Which rolling down from Heaven-aspiring hills, And now united in the fruitful vales, Bear all before them, ravish'd with their joy, And swell in glory, till they know no bounds. [_The Cloud discends with the Hyades, at which the Maids seem to be rejoyced; they all dance a while together, then make another stand, as if they wanted something._ _Iris._ Great Wit and Power hath _Hermes_ to contrive A livel[esse] dance, which of one sex consists. _Merc._ Alas poor _Iris_! _Venus_ hath in store A secret ambush of her winged boys, Who lurking long within these pleasant groves, First stuck these Lovers with their equal darts; Those _Cupids_ shall come forth, and joyn with these, To honor that which they themselves began. [_The_ Cupids _come forth and dance, they are weary with their blind pursuing the Nymphs, and th[e] Nymphs weary with flying them_. _Iris._ Behold the Statues which wild Vulcan plac'd Under the Altar of Olympian _Jove_, And gave to them an artificial life: [Shall daunce for joy of these great Nuptialls:] See how they move, drawn by this Heavenly joy, Like the wild Trees, which followed _Orpheus_ Harp. [_The Statues come down, and they all dance, till the Nymphs out-run them, and lose them, then the_ Cupids _go off, and last the Statues_. _Merc._ And what will _Juno's Iris_ do for her? _Iris._ Just match this shew, or m[y] inventio[n] fail[es], Had it been worthier, I would have invok'd The blazing Comets, Clouds, and falling Stars, And all my kindred Meteors of the air, To have excell'd it; but I now must strive To imitate confusion; therefore thou Delightful _Flora_; if thou ever feltst Increase of sweetness in those blooming Plants, On which the horns of my fair Bow decline, Send hither all th[e] rural company, Which deck the May-games with their [Countrey] sports; _Juno_ will have it so. [_The second Anti-Masque [rush] in, [dance] their measure, and as rudely depart._ _Merc. Iris_, we strive Like winds at liberty, who should do worst E'r we return. If _Juno_ be the Queen Of Marriages, let her give happy way To what is done in honor of the State She governs.