Cloris

And being led to meet her mate,
To make sure that she want no state,
Moons from the peacock's tail we'll shred,
With feathers from the pheasant's head:
Mixed with the plume of, so high price,
The precious bird of paradise;

Which to make up our nymphs shall ply

Into a curious canopy,

Borne o'er her head, by our enquiry,
By elfs, the fittest of the Fairy.

Mertilla

But all this while we have forgot
Her buskins, neighbours, have we not?

Claia

We had, for those I'll fit her now,
They shall be of the lady-cow:
The dainty shell upon her back

Of crimson strewed with spots of black;
Which as she holds a stately pace,
Her leg will wonderfully grace.

Cloris

But then for music of the best,
This must be thought on for the feast.

Mertilla

The nightingale of birds most choice
To do her best shall strain her voice;

And to this bird to make a set,
The mavis, merle, and robinet,
The lark, the linnet, and the thrush,
That make a choir of every bush.
But for still music, we will keep
The wren, and titmouse, which to sleep
Shall sing the bride, when she's alone,
The rest into their chambers gone.
And, like those upon ropes that walk,
On gossamer, from stalk to stalk,
The tripping fairy tricks shall play
The evening of the wedding-day.

Claia

But, for the bride-bed, what were fit,
That hath not yet been talked of yet.

Cloris

Of leaves of roses white and red,
Shall be the covering of her bed:
The curtains, valence, tester, all,
Shall be the flower imperial:
And for the fringe, it all along
With azure harebells shall be hung:
Of lilies shall the pillows be,
With down stuffed of the butterfly.

Mertilla

Thus far we handsomely have gone,
Now for our prothalamion,

Or marriage-song, of all the rest

A thing that much must grace our feast.

Let us practise, then, to sing it
Ere we before the assembly bring it;
We in dialogue must do it;

Then, my dainty girls, set to it.

Claia

This day must Tita married be,
Come, nymphs, this nuptial let us see.

Mertilla

But is it certain that ye say?
Will she wed the noble Fay?

Cloris

Sprinkle the dainty flowers with dews,
Such as the gods at banquets use:
Let herbs and weeds turn all to roses,
And make proud the posts with posies:
Shoot your sweets into the air,
Charge the morning to be fair.

Claia and Mertilla

For our Tita is this day

To be married to a Fay.

Claia

By whom, then, shall our bride be led To the temple to be wed?

Mertilla

Only by yourself and I;

Who that roomth should else supply?

Cloris

Come, bright girls, come all together,
And bring all your offerings hither,
Ye most brave and buxom bevy,
All your goodly graces levy,
Come in majesty and state
Our bridal here to celebrate.

Mertilla and Claia

For our Tita is this day
Married to a noble Fay.

Claia

Whose lot will 't be the way to strow,
On which to church our bride must go?

Mertilla

That I think as fit'st of all,
To lively Lelipa must fall.

Cloris

Summon all the sweets that are,
To this nuptial to repair;

Till with their throngs themselves they smother,

Strongly stifling one another;

And at last they all consume,

And vanish in one rich perfume.

Mertilla and Claia

For our Tita is this day
Married to a noble Fay.

Mertilla

By whom must Tita married be? 'Tis fit we all to that should see.

Claia

The priest he purposely doth come,
The Arch-Flamen of Elysium.

Cloris

With tapers let the temples shine,
Sing to Hymen hymns divine;
Load the altars till there rise
Clouds from the burnt sacrifice;
With your censers sling aloof
Their smells, till they ascend the roof

Mertilla and Claia

For our Tita is this day

Married to a noble Fay.

Mertilla

But coming back when she is wed, Who breaks the cake above her head?

Claia

That shall Mertilla, for she's tallest, And our Tita is the smallest.