Till now thou wast but able
To be what now thou art; then that by thee
No more be said, I may bee, but, I am,
To night put on perfection, and a womans name.
85Even like a faithfull man content,
That this life for a better should be spent,
So, shee a mothers rich stile doth preferre,
And at the Bridegroomes wish'd approach doth lye,
Like an appointed lambe, when tenderly
90The priest comes on his knees t'embowell her;