Without a wonder or a whisper seen;
And none had been so weak as to inquire,
“Why pouts my Lady?” or “Why frowns the Squire?”
How fair these names, how much unlike they look
To all the blurr’d subscriptions in my book:
The bridegroom’s letters stand in row above,
Tapering yet stout, like pine-trees in his grove;
While free and fine the bride’s appear below,
As light and slender as her jasmines grow.
Mark now in what confusion stoop or stand