They licke a Moat off from her vpper garment,
Dust her curl’d Ruffe with their too busie fingers,
As if some dust were there: and many toyes
They vse to please, till side by side they ioyne,
And palme with palme supplies the amorous heart,
To pay a wanton kisse on Loues faire lips,
And then the Prize is wonne. Iudge therefore, Lords,
Whether the guilt doth lye on vs or them,
And as your Wisdomes find, saue or condemne.
A Plaudite by the women, with shouts, crying, Atlanta, Atlanta, Atlanta!