Eunomia Think not I could absent myself this night:
But Peace is gentle and doth still invite
Eunomia; yet shouldst thou silent be,
The rose and lily which thou strowest
All the cheerful way thou goest,
Would direct to follow thee.
Irene Thou dost beautify increase,
And chain security with peace.
Eunomia Irene fair, and first divine,
All my blessings spring from thine.
Irene Although I am but wild without thee,
I am lost with them that know not how to order me.
Thou abhorrest what is rude, or apt to wound,
Canst throw proud trees to the ground,
And make a temple or a forest.
Eunomia ‖: No more, :‖ no more, but join
Thy voice and lute with mine.
Both The world shall give prerogative to neither;
‖: We cannot flourish but together. :‖
Chorus Irene enters like a perfumed spring,
Eunomia ripens everything,
And in the golden harvest leaves
To every sickle his own sheaves.