Act 4. Scene 5 -

Rimewell, Bagshot, Catchmey , Sir Christopher ; A Song at a window: congratulating (as they think) Mr Meanwels Marriage.

Whiles early light springs from the skies,
A fairer from your Bride doth rise;
A brighter Day doth thence appear,
And make a second morning there:
Her blush doth shed
All o'r the bid,
Clean shamefac'd beames
That spread in streames,
And purple round the modest aire.

I will not tell what shreeks, and cries,
What Angry Dishes, and what ties,
What pretty oaths then newly born
The listning Taper beard there sworn:
Whiles froward she
Most peevishly
Did yielding fight
To keep o'r night
What shee'd have profer'd you ere morn.

Faire, we know, maids do refuse
To grant what they do come to lose.
Intend a Conquest you that wed;
They would be chastly ravished.
Not any kisse
From Mrs Pris,
If that you do
Perswade and woe,
Know pleasure's by extorting fed.

O may her arms wax black and blew
Only by hard encircling you:
May she round about you twine
Like the easie twisting Vine;
And whiles you sip
From her full lip
Pleasures as new
As morning Dew,
Let those soft Tyes your hearts combine.

Sing. God give you joy Mr Meanwell . God give your
Worship good morrow.
Rim. Come let's be going.
Chr. Hold, a blow I'l have,
One jerk at th' times, wrap'd in a benediction
O'th' Spouses teeming, and I'l go with you.

A Song.

Now thou our future Brother,
That shalt make this Spouse a Mother,
Spring up , and Dod's blessing on't .
Shew thy little sorrell Pate
And prove regenerate
Before thou be brought to the Font.
May the Parish Surplice be
Cut in peeces quite for thee.
To wrap thy soft body about;
So 'twill better service do
Reformed thus into
The state of an Orthodox Clout.
When thou shalt leave the Cradle,
And shalt begin to waddle,
And trudge in thy little Apron;
Mayst thou conceive a grace
Of half an hours space,
And rejoice in thy Friday Capon.
For an errour that's the Flocks
Name Mr Paul, but urge St Knoxe;
And at every reform'd Dinner,
Let cheese come in, and preaching,
And by that third Course teaching,
Confirm an unsatisfi'd Sinner.
Thence grow up to hate a Ring,
And defie an offering:
And learn to sing what others say.
Let Christ-tide be thy fast,
And lent thy good repast:
And regard not an Holy day.

Enter Constable and Assistants .
Con. Lay hold on them; lay hold on them I say:
I'l hamper them.
Cat. Hell take your headlong zeale;
You must be jerking at the times forsooth:
I am afraid the times will scape, and we
The men of them shall suffer now the scourge.
Con. Let none escape.
Chri. 'Twas godliness verily:
It was a Hymn I warbled.
Con. Thou dost lye,
It was no Hymn, it was a Song. Is this
Your filthy Rendevow? you shall be taught
Another tune.
Chr. I do beseech you shew
Mercifull cruelty, and as twere a kind
Of pittifull hardheartednesse. I'm strong.

They bring in Andrew, and Priscilla .
Con. I'm glad you told me so, I will provide
Your Ward accordingly. Drag 'em out both.
An. Let me but send to th' Ordinary.
Con. You shall not,
The Ord'nary hath sent to you: No Baile,
I will take none. I'l suffer no such sneaks
As you, t' offend this way. It doth belong
T'your Betters Sir.
An. Here's a sufficient Man
I do assure you, take my word for that.
Con. This staff was made to knock down sin. I'l look
There shall be no Advowtry in my Ward
But what is honest. I'l see Justice done
As long as I'm in office. Come along.
Translation: 
Language: 
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.