EPITHALAMION
MADE AT LINCOLN'S-INN.
THE sun-beams in the East are spread, Leave, leave, fair Bride! your solitary bed; No more shall you return to it alone, It nurseth sadness; and your body's print, Like to a grave, the yielding down doth dint: You and your other you meet there anon;
Put forth, put forth, that warm balm-breathing thigh, Which when next time you in these sheets will smo- There it must meet another,
Which never was, but must be oft' more nigh.
Come glad from thence, go gladder than you came, To-day put on perfection and a woman's name.
Daughters of London; you which be
Our golden mines and furnish'd treasury; You which are angels, yet still bring with you Thousands of angels on your marriage days, Help with your presence, and devise to praise These rites, which also unto you grow due; Conceitedly dress her, and be assign'd By you fit place for every flower and jewe!; Make her for Love fit fuel
As gay as Flora, and as rich as Indie;
So may she, fair and rich, in nothing lame,
To-day put on perfection and a woman's name.
And you, frolic Patricians!
Sons of those senators, wealth's deep oceans; Ye painted courtiers! barrels of others' wits, Ye country men! who but your beasts love none: Ye of those fellowships, whereof he 's one, Of study and play made strange hermaphrodits, Here shine; this bridegroom to the temple bring, Lo! in yon' path which store of strow'd flow'rs graceth,
The sober virgin paceth;
Except my sight fail 't is no other thing:
Weep not, nor blush, here is no grief nor shame; To-day put on perfection and a woman's name.
Thy two-leav'd gates, fair Temple! unfold, And these two in thy sacred bosom hold, Till mystically join'd but one they be; Then may thy lean and hunger-starved womb Long time expect their bodies and their tomb, Long after their own parents fatten thee. All elder claims, and all cold barrenness, All yielding to new loves be far for ever, Which might these two dissever,
Always all th' other may each one possess;
For the best bride, best worthy of praise and fame, To-day puts on perfection and a woman's name.
Winter days bring much delight,
Nor for themselves, but for they soon bring night; 50 Other sweets wait thee than these divers meats, Other disports than dancing jollities,
Other love-tricks than glancing with the eyes; But that the sun still in our half sphere sweats; He flies in winter, but he now stands still, Yet shadows turn; noon-point he hath attain'd, His steeds will be restrain'd,
But gallop lively down the western hill;
Thou shalt, when he hath run the heav'ns half
To-night put on perfection and a woman's name. 60
The amorous evening-star is rose,
Why then should not our amorous star inclose Herself in her wish'd bed? Release your strings, Musicians! and, dancers! take some truce With these your pleasing labours; for great use As much weariness as perfection brings.
You, and not only you but all toil'd beast Rest duly; at night all their toils are dispens'd; But in their beds commenc'd
Are other labours, and more dainty feasts.
She goes a maid who, lest she turn the same,
To-night puts on perfection and a woman's name.
Thy virgin's girdle now untie
And in thy nuptial bed (Love's altar) lie
A pleasing sacrifice; now dispossess
Thee of these chains and robes which were put on T' adorn the day, not thee; for thou alone,
Like Virtue and Truth, are best in nakedness: This bed is only to virginity
A grave, but to a better state a cradle;
Till now thou wast but able
To be what now thou art; then that by thee No more be said I may be, but I am,
To-night put on perfection and a woman's name.
Ev'n like a faithful man, content
That this life for a better should be spent, So she a mother's rich stile doth prefer,
And at the bridegroom's wish'd approach doth lie, Like an appointed lamb, when tenderly
The priest comes on his knees t' imbowel her. Now sleep or watch with more joy; and, oh! light Of heav'n! to-morrow rise thou hot and early, This sun will love so dearly
Her rest, that long, long, we shall want her sight. Wonders are wrought; for she which had no name To-night puts on perfection and a woman's name. 96
ECLOGUE.
DECEMBER 26, 1613.
Allophanes finding Idios in the country in Christmas time, reprehends his absence from Court at the marriage of the
Idios gives an account of his purpose
therein, and of his actions there.
UNSEASONABLE man! statue of ice!
What could to country's solitude entice Thee in this year's cold and decrepit time? Nature's instinct draws to the warmer clime Ev'n smaller birds, who by that courage dare In numerous fleets sail thro' their sea, the air. What delicacy can in fields appear,
Whilst Flora herself doth a frize jerkin wear? Whilst winds do all the trees and hedges strip Of leaves, to furnish rods enough to whip Thy madness from thee, and all springs by frost Having tak'n cold and their sweet murmurs lost? If thou thy faults or fortunes wouldst lament With just solemnity, do it in Lent.
At court the spring already advanced is, The sun stays longer up; and yet not his
The glory is; far other, other fires:
First zeal to prince and state, then Love's desires,
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