Amanda :: :: University of Virginia Library

Joy , most victorious Madam; pardon me,
If I recal a past solemnity;
'Tis a review of joy, which is a dish
Not like some strange, out-landish fowle or fish,
Or some new-fangled sauce, some bo-peep meat,
Which th' Antipodes, and we by turnes do eat,
Some sullen cates which out of season flie,
To tempt the Ladies with their raritie;
But like your Conserves, with more choice delight
Feeds all the humours of the appetite,
Playes with a curious palate, and from thence
Leaps to the eye, then to another sense,
So doth enrich the soul, till it surmize,
The body an Elizian Paradise:

This wealthie joy, which at the marriage-tide
Sparkles i'th' Bridegrooms eyes, perfumes the Bride
With her own cheerful spirits, till they dart
Laughter into her spouses ticklish heart;
This balsame joy, great Lady, I present
In a reunction, to renew its sent,
And call its quickning vertues out, which lie

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Not dead, but dormant in their treasurie;
I do but rub the herbe, and wake from thence
Such fragrant savours, as may feast the sense,
Tell you what flowers in your posie are,
Repeat some notes in short-hand character.

Then pardon, Madam though I come so late,
Joy's never out of season, still in date,
Where love is fresh, joy never can decay,
Though yeares be spent, 'tis still the wedding day.

Then, great triumphant Madam, once again,
Joy to your second Conquest, you have ta'ne
Two noble Warriours Captives in your breast,
Nature hath ransom'd one, the other's prest
To succeed pris'ner; oh blest captive he
That's pris'ner in so chaste a Nunnerie!
'Twas pity since your first was forc't to yield,
Your second stay'd so long, as if the field
Were voted by some pious bosome-law,
For so long time Sir Simons Golgotha;
Good wife! whose body for some years must be
Her first Deare's charnel house, his Calvarie.

But now that cloud of Funeral Obsequies
Hath spent it self in teares, and in your eyes
Mirth gins to startle and resume its seat;
Fresh blushes vault in triumph, smiles curveat:
All speak your Conquest of the Conquerour,
What a commanding Amazon you are;
Unto whose service Champions are drawn forth,
Upon the Altar of whose glorious worth,
Great Hymen bids me offer sacrifice,

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And th' god of warre hath done devotion twice,
Stately Bellona courts your Ladiship,
And am'rous Mars fights duels at your lip:
You take your Spouse in pris'ner by your charmes,
Sir William takes you in by force of armes,
And then such volley shots of kisses flie,
Would tempt and ravish sworn Virginity.
Now may those chaster lips so closely meet,
At each salute as if your soules did greet;
And since Sir William here hath taken quarter,
'Tis for his honour to be Knight o'th' garter:

Nor will I leave him there; no from above
The Heavens greet you with new joyes of love;
Joyes which must alwayes needs be fresh to you,
Where Christ to both is Bride and Bridegroom too;
Within whose heart the lilie o'th' valley growes,
That cluster'd Camphire, that sweet Sharon-rose,
That bundle of myrrhe, he whom the Virgins love,
Whose scarlet lips drop honey as they move.

Oh may your Dear Beloved, kisse his Vine
With kisses of his mouth, more sweet then wine;
So shall you spread your fruitful branch, and see
Your children like the plants o'th' Olive-tree.
These are my hearty wishes, and you know
Although I am no great Divine,
Not only rich but poor mens coine will go,
So may these prayers of mine.