_Janus_. Chronos, Chronos, mend thy pace; An hundred times the rolling sun Around the radiant belt has run In his revolving race. Behold, behold the goal in sight, Spread thy fans, and wing thy flight. _Enter_ CHRONOS, _with a scythe in his hand, and a globe on his back; which he sets down at his entrance_. _Chronos_. Weary, weary of my weight, Let me, let me drop my freight, And leave the world behind. I could not bear, 10 Another year, The load of human kind. _Enter_ MOMUS, _laughing_. _Momus_. Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! well hast thou done To lay down thy pack, And lighten thy back. The world was a fool, ere since it begun, And since neither Janus nor Chronos, nor I, Can hinder the crimes, Or mend the bad times, 'Tis better to laugh than to cry. 20 _Chorus of all three_. 'Tis better to laugh than to cry. _Janus_. Since Momus comes to laugh below, Old time begin the show, That he may see, in every scene, What changes in this age have been. _Chronos_. Then goddess of the silver bow begin. [_Horns, or hunting-music within._] _Enter_ DIANA. _Diana_. With horns and with hounds, I waken the day, And hie to the woodland walks away; I tuck up my robe, and am buskin'd soon, And tie to my forehead a waxing moon; 30 I course the fleet stag, unkennel the fox, And chase the wild goats o'er summits of rocks; With shouting and hooting we pierce through the sky, And Echo turns hunter, and doubles the cry. _Chorus of all_. With shouting and hooting we pierce through the sky, And Echo turns hunter, and doubles the cry. _Janus_. Then our age was in its prime: _Chronos_. Free from rage: _Diana_.--And free from crime. _Momus_. A very merry, dancing, drinking, 40 Laughing, quaffing, and unthinking time. _Chorus of all_. Then our age was in its prime, Free from rage, and free from crime, A very merry, dancing, drinking, Laughing, quaffing, and unthinking time. [_Dance of Diana's attendants_.] _Enter_ MARS. _Mars_. Inspire the vocal brass, inspire; The world is past its infant age: Arms and honour, Arms and honour, Set the martial mind on fire, 50 And kindle manly rage. Mars has look'd the sky to red; And Peace, the lazy god, is fled. Plenty, peace, and pleasure fly; The sprightly green, In woodland walks, no more is seen; The sprightly green has drunk the Tyrian dye. _Chorus of all._ Plenty, peace, &c. _Mars._ Sound the trumpet, beat the drum; Through all the world around, 60 Sound a reveillie, sound, sound, The warrior god is come. _Chorus of all._ Sound the trumpet, &c.