XXI. Cease, cease, cease these false sports
Cease, cease, cease these false sports
Cease, cease, cease these false sports. Hast, hast, hast away, Loue's made a trewant by your stay, Good, night,
good night yet virgin, virgin Bride; but looke ere day, ere day be spide, You change that fruitlesse name, least
you your sex defame, Fear not Hymens peaceful war, you'le cōquer, thogh you subdued are, good
night, And ere the day be old, rise to the sun, to the Sunne, a Marigold.
Hymen, O Hymen, blesse this night, this night, blesse this night, that Loues darke workes may come, may come to light.
