Cloris. Violins, strike vp aloud,
Ply the Gitterne, scowre the Crowd,
Let the nimble hand belabour
190The whistling Pipe, and drumbling Taber:
To the full the Bagpipe racke,
Till the swelling leather cracke.
Mertilla. } For our Tita is this day,
Claia. } Married to a noble Fay.
Claia. But when to dyne she takes her seate
What shall be our Tita's meate?
Mertilla. The Gods this Feast, as to begin,
Haue sent of their Ambrosia in.
Cloris. Then serue we vp the strawes rich berry,
The Respas, and Elizian Cherry:
200The virgin honey from the flowers
In Hibla, wrought in Flora's bowers:
Full Bowles of Nectar, and no Girle
Carouse but in dissolued Pearle.
Mertilla. } For our Tita is this day,
Claia. } Married to a noble Fay.
Claia. But when night comes, and she must goe
To Bed, deare Nimphes what must we doe?
Mertilla. In the Posset must be brought,
210And Poynts be from the Bridegroome caught.
Cloris. In Maskes, in Dances, and delight,
And reare Banquets spend the night:
Then about the Roome we ramble,
Scatter Nuts, and for them scramble:
Ouer Stooles, and Tables tumble,
Neuer thinke of noyse nor rumble.
Mertilla. } For our Tita is this day,
Claia. } Married to a noble Fay.