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Epithalamiū. .1.
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The sun-beames in ye East are spred [f. 22] |
Leaue leaue fayr bride your solitary bed. |
No more shall you returne to it alone. |
It nourseth sadnes & your bodyes print |
Like to a graue ye yielding Downe doth dint |
you & your other you meete ther anone. |
Put forth, put forth yt warme balme-breathing thigh |
Wch when next time you in these sheetes will smother |
Ther it must meet an other |
Wch neuer was, but must be ofte more nigh; |
Come glad frō thence, go gladder then you came |
To day put on perfection and a womans name. |
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.2. Daughters of London, you wch bee |
Or golden Mines & furnish'd Treasuree; |
You wch are Angels, yet still bring wt you |
Thousands of Angels on your mariage dayes |
Helpe wt your presence & deuise to prayse |
These rites wch allso vnto you grow due. |
Conceitedly dres her, & be assignd |
By you fitt place for euery flower & Iewell |
Make her for Love fitt fuell, |
As gay as Flora, and as rich as Inde, |
So may she fayre, rich, glad, & in nothing lame |
To day put on perfection & a womans name. |
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.3. And you frolique Patricians |
Sonnes of these Senators, wealths deepe Oceans |
Yee painted Courtiers, Barrells of others witts |
Yee Cuntrymen, who but your Beasts, love none |
Yee of those fellowships whereof he' is one |
Of study & play made strange Hermaphroditts |
Here shine: This bridegroome to ye Temple bring. |
Lo, in yon path wch store of strawd flowers graceth |
The sober virgin paceth |
Except my sight fayle: t'is no other thing. |
Weepe not, nor blush; here is no griefe nor shame |
To day put on perfection & a womans name. |