And smyling graces do accompany.
If _Bacchus_ could his stragling Mynion
Grace with a glorious wreath of shining Starres,
Why should not Heaven my _Poppaea_ Crowne?
The Northerne teeme shall move into a round,
New constellations rise to honour thee;
The earth shall wooe thy favours and the Sea
Lay his rich shells and treasure at thy feete.
For thee _Hidaspis_ shall throw up his gold,
_Panchaia_ breath the rich delightful smells;
The _Seres_ and the feather'd man of _Inde_
Shall their fine arts and curious labours bring;
And where the Sunn's not knowne _Poppaeas_ name
Shall midst their feasts and barbarous pompe be sung.

_Poppea_. I, now I am worthy to be Queene oth' world,
Fairer then _Venus_ or the _Bacchus_ love;
But you'le anon unto your cutt-boy[65] _Sporus_,
Your new made woman; to whom now, I heare,
You are wedded too.

_Nero_. I wedded?

_Poppaea_. I, you wedded.
Did you not heare the words oth' _Auspyces_?
Was not the boy in bride-like garments drest?
Marriage bookes seald as 'twere for yssue to
Be had betweene you? solemne feasts prepar'd,
While all the Court with _God-give-you-Ioy_ sounds?
It had bin good _Domitius_ your Father