X.

THE BRIDEGROOM'S COMING.

As he that sees a star fall, runs apace,

And finds a jelly in the place,

So doth the bridegroom haste as much,

Being told this star is fallen, and finds her such.
And as friends may look strange,

By a new fashion, or apparel's change,

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Their souls, though long acquainted they had been, These clothes, their bodies, never yet had seen. Therefore at first she modestly might start,

But must forthwith surrender every part,

As freely as each to each before gave either eye or heart.

XI.

THE GOOD-NIGHT.

Now, as in Tullia's tomb, one lamp burnt clear,
Unchanged for fifteen hundred year,

May these love-lamps we here enshrine,

In warmth, light, lasting, equal the divine.
Fire ever doth aspire,

And makes all like itself, turns all to fire,
But ends in ashes; which these cannot do,

For none of these is fuel, but fire too.

This is joy's bonfire, then, where love's strong arts Make of so noble individual parts

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One fire of four inflaming eyes, and of two loving hearts.

IDIOS. As I have brought this song, that I may

A perfect sacrifice, I'll burn it too. 7

do

ALLOPHANES. No, sir. This paper I have justly

got,

For, in burnt incense, the perfume is not
His only that presents it, but of all ;
Whatever celebrates this festival

Is common, since the joy thereof is so.

Nor may yourself be priest; but let me go

Back to the court, and I will lay it upon

Such altars, as prize your devotion.

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EPITHALAMION MADE AT LINCOLN'S
INN.

THE sunbeams 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 smother, 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

9

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 jewel;
Make her for love fit fuel,

As gay as Flora and as rich as Ind;
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 other's wits; Ye countrymen, who but your beasts love none; Ye of those fellowships, whereof he's one,

20

Of study and play made strange hermaphrodites, 30 Here shine; this bridegroom to the temple bring. Lo, in yon path which store of strew'd flowers graceth, The sober virgin paceth;

Except my sight fail, 'tis 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-leaved 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.

1. 26. So 1635; 1633, these

40

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,

Not for themselves, but for they soon bring night; 50
Other sweets wait thee than these diverse 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 heaven's half frame, 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 beasts
Rest duly; at night all their toils are dispensed;
But in their beds commenced

Are other labours, and more dainty feasts.

L 59. So 1635; 1633, come the world's half frame

70

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

To adorn the day, not thee; for thou, alone,

Like virtue and truth, art 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.

Even 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

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The priest comes on his knees, to embowel her. 90 Now sleep or watch with more joy; and, O light Of heaven, 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 maim, To-night puts on perfection, and a woman's name.

1. 95. 1635, no name