And now, brave soldiers, for this good success, Carouse whole cups of Amazonian wine, Sweeter than nectar or Ambrosia, And cast away the clods of cursed care, With goblets crowned with Semeleius' gifts.
Now let us march to Abis' silver streams, That clearly glide along the Champaign fields, And moist the grassy meads with humid drops.
Sound drums & trumpets, sound up cheerfully, Sith we return with joy and victory.
[Exeunt.]
ACT III. PROLOGUE.
[Enter Ate as before. The dumb show. A Crocodile sitting on a river's rank, and a little Snake stinging it.
Then let both of them fall into the water.]
ATE.
Scelera in authorem cadunt.
High on a bank by Nilus' boistrous streams, Fearfully sat the Aegiptian Crocodile, Dreadfully grinding in her sharp long teeth The broken bowels of a silly fish.
His back was armed against the dint of spear, With shields of brass that shined like burnished gold;And as he stretched forth his cruel paws, A subtle Adder, creeping closely near, Thrusting his forked sting into his claws, Privily shed his poison through his bones;Which made him swell, that there his bowels burst, That did so much in his own greatness trust.
