Midas (Lyly play)

"APOLLO: My Daphne’s Haire is twisted Gold, Bright starres a-piece her Eyes doe hold, My Daphne’s Brow inthrones the Graces, My Daphne’s Beauty staines all Faces; On Daphne’s Cheeke grow Rose and Cherry, On Daphne’s Lip a sweeter Berry, Daphne’s snowy Hand but touch’d does melt, And then no heauenlier Warmth is felt, My Daphne’s voice tunes all the Spheres, My Daphne’s Musick charmes all Eares. Fond am I thus to sing her prayse; These glories now are turn’d to Bayes."

"PAN: Pan’s Syrinx was a Girle indeed, Though now shee’s turn’d into a Reed, From that deare Reed 𝘗𝘢𝘯’𝘴 Pipe doth come, A Pipe that strikes Apollo dumbe; Nor Flute, nor Lute, nor Gitterne can So chant it, as the Pipe of Pan; Cross-gartred Swaines, and Dairie girles, With faces smug, and round as Pearles, When Pans shrill Pipe begins to play, With dancing weare out Night and Day: The Bag-pipes Drone his Hum layes by, When Pan sounds up his Minstrelsie, His Minstrelsie! O Base! this Quill Which at my mouth with winde I fill, Puts me in mind, though Her I misse, That still my Syrinx lips I kisse."

"Sing to Apollo, God of Day, Whose golden beames with morning play, And make her eyes so brightly shine, Aurora’s face is call’d Divine. Sing to Phoebus, and that Throne Of Diamonds which he sits upon. Io, Pæans let vs sing, To Physickes and to Poesies King.Crowne all his Altars with bright fire, Laurels bind about his Lire, A Daphnean Coronet for his Head, The Muses dance about his Bed; When on his ravishing Lute he playes, Strew his Temple round with Bayes. Io, Pæans let vs sing, To the glittering Delian King."