he word, "se suo modulo"; alluding to that true
measure of one's self, which as every one ought to make, so is it
most conspicuous in thy divine example.

The second, in green is Aglaia, delectable and pleasant
conversation, whose property it is to move a kindly delight, and
sometime not without laughter: her office to entertain assemblies,
and keep societies together with fair familiarity. Her device,
within a ring of clouds, a heart with shine about it; the word,
'curarum nubila pello': an allegory of Cynthia's light, which no
less clears the sky then her fair mirth the heart.

The third, in the discoloured mantle spangled all over, is
Euphantaste, a well-conceited Wittiness, and employed in honouring
the court with the riches of her pure invention. Her device, upon
a Petasus, or Mercurial hat, a crescent; The word; "sic laus
ingenii"; inferring that the praise and glory of wit doth ever
increase, as doth thy growing moon.

The fourth, in white, is Apheleia, a nymph as pure and simple as the
soul, or as an abrase table, and is therefore called Simplicity;
without folds, without plaits, without colour, without counterfeit;
and (to speak plainly) plainness itself. Her device is no device.
The word under her silver shield, "omnis abest fucus"; alluding to
thy spotless self, who art as far from impurity as from mortality.

Myself, celestial goddess, more fit for the court of Cynthia than
the arbours of Cytherea, am called Anteros, or Love's enemy; the
more welcome therefore to thy court, and the fitter to conduct this
quaternion, who, as they are thy professed votaries, and for that
cause adversaries to Love, yet thee, perpetual virgin, they both
love, and vow to love eternally.

RE-ENTER ARETE, WITH CRITES.

CYN. Not without wonder, nor without delight
Mine eyes have view'd, in contemplation's depth,
This work of wit, divine and excellent:
What shape, what substance, or what unknown power,
In virgin's habit, crown'd with laurel leaves,
And olive-branches woven in between,
On sea-girt rocks, like to a goddess shines!
O front! O face! O all celestial, sure,
And more than mortal! Arete, behold
Another Cynthia, and another queen,
Whose glory, like a lasting plenilune,
Seems ignorant of what it is to wane.
Nor under heaven an object could be found
More fit to please. Let Crites make