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Ceres: Hail, many-coloured messenger, that ne'er Dost disobey the wife of Jupiter; Who, with thy saffron wings, upon my flow'rs Diffusest honey drops, refreshing show'rs; And with each end of thy blue bow dost crown My bosky acres and my unshrubb'd down, Rich scarf to my proud earth; why hath thy Queen Summon'd me hither to this short-grass'd green? Iris: A contract of true love to celebrate, And some donation freely to estate On the blest lovers.
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