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Ex otio Negotium

Or, Martiall his epigrams Translated. With Sundry Poems and Fancies, By R. Fletcher
  

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A Sing-song on Clarinda's Wedding
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

A Sing-song on Clarinda's Wedding

Now that Love's Holiday is come,
And Madg the Maid hath swept ye room
And trimm'd her spit and pot,
A wake my merry Muse, and sing
The Revells, and that other thing
That must not be forgot.
As the gray morning dawn'd, tis sed
Clarinda broke out of her bed
Like Cynthia in her pride:
Where all the Maiden Lights that were
Compriz'd within our Hemisphære
Attended at her side.

227

But wot you then with much a doe
They dress'd the Bride from top to toe
And brought her from her chamber,
Deck'd in her robes and garments gay
More sumptuous than the live-long-day
Or Stars enshrin'd in Amber.
The sparkling bullose of her eyes
Like two ecclipsed Suns did rise
Beneath her christal brow,
To shew like those strange accidents
Some suddain changable events
Were like to hap below.
Her cheeks bestreak'd with white and red
Like pretty tell-tales of the bed
Presag'd the blustring night
With his encricling armes and shade
Resolv'd to swallow and invade
And skreen her virgin light.
Her lips those threds of scarlet dye,
Wherein Love's charmes and quiver lye,
Legions of sweets did crown;
Which smilingly did seem to say
O crop me, crop me whiles you may,
A non th'are not mine own.

228

Her Breasts those melting Alps of snow
On whose fair hills in open shew
The God of Love lay napping;
Like swelling Buts of lively Wine
Upon their ivory stells did shine
To wait the lucky tapping.
Her waste that slender type of man
Was but a small and single span,
Yet I dare safely swear
He that whole thousands has in fee
Would forfeit all, so he might bee
Lord of the Mannor there.
But now before I passe the line
Pray Reader give me leave to dine,
And pause here in the midle;
The Bridegroom and the Parson knock,
With all the Hymeneall flock,
The Plum-cake and the Fidle.
When as the Priest Clarinda sees,
He stared as't had bin half his fees
To gaze upon her face:
And if the spirit did not move
His continence was far above
Each sinner in the place.

229

With mickle stir he joyn'd their hands,
And hamp'red them in marriage bands
As fast as fast might bee,
Where still me thinks, me thinks I hear
That secret sigh in every eare,
Once love remember mee!
Which done the Cook he knock'd amain
And up the dishes in a train
Come smoaking two and two,
With that they wip'd their mouths and sate,
Some fell to quaffing, some to prate,
Ay marry and welcome too
In pay'rs they thus impal'd the meat
Roger and Marget, and Thomas and Kate,
Rafe and Bess, Andrew and Maudlin,
And Valentine eke with Sybell so sweet,
Whose cheeks on each side of her snuffers did meet
As round and as plump as a codling.
When at the last they had fetched their freez,
And mired their stomacks quite up to ye knees
In claret for and good chear,
Then, then began the merry din,
For as it was thought they were all on the pin,
O what kissing and clipping was there!

230

But as luck would have it ye Parson said grace,
And to frisking & dancing they shuffled apace,
Each Lad took his Lass by the fist,
And when he had squeez'd her, and gaum'd, her untill
The fat of her face ran down like a mill
He toll'd for the rest of the grist.
In sweat and in dust having wasted the day,
They enter'd upon the last act of the play,
The Bride to her bed was convey'd,
Where knee deep each hand fell downe to the ground
And in seeking the Garter much pleasure was found,
'Twould have made a man's arm have stray'd
This clutter ore Clarinda lay
Half bedded, like the peeping day
Behind Olimpus cap;
Whiles at her head each twittring Girle
The fatal stocking quick did whirle
To know the lucky hap.
The Bridegroom in at last did rustle,
All dissap-pointed in the bustle
The Maidens had shav'd his breeches;
But let him not complain, tis well
In such a storm, I can you tell
He save'd his other stitches.

231

And now he bounc'd into the bed,
Even just as if a man had said
Fair Lady have at all;
Where twisted, at the hug they lay,
Like Venus and the sprightly Boy,
O who would fear the fall?
Thus both with love's sweet tapers fired,
And thousand balmy kisses tyred,
They could nor wait the rest,
But out the folk and candles fled,
And to't they went; but what they did
There lyes the cream of the jest.