Cyn monologue (Act 5) — Cynthia's Revels; Or, The Fountain of Self-Love

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 approach. Bounty forbids to pall our thanks with stay, Or to defer our favour, after view: The time of grace is, when the cause is new.