Hark to Jove's thunder! shrink away in fear
From unknown forms, whose tyranny ye'll feel
In groans and tears if ye insult their power.

_Iris._ Behold Jove's balance hung in upper sky;
There are ye weighed,--to that ye must submit.

_Cer._ Oh! Jove, have mercy on a Mother's prayer!
Shall it be nought to be akin to thee?
And shall thy sister, Queen of fertile Earth,
Derided be by these foul shapes of Hell?
Look at the scales, they're poized with equal weights!
What can this mean? Leave me not[,] Proserpine[,]
Cling to thy Mother's side! He shall not dare
Divide the sucker from the parent stem.

(_embraces her_)

_Ascal._ He is almighty! who shall set the bounds [27]
To his high will? let him decide our plea!
Fate is with us, & Proserpine is ours!

(_He endeavours to part Ceres & Proserpine, the nymphs
prevent him._)

_Cer._ Peace, ominous bird of Hell & Night! Depart!
Nor with thy skriech disturb a Mother's grief,
Avaunt! It is to Jove we pray, not thee.

_Iris._ Thy fate, sweet Proserpine, is sealed by Jove,