At this your nurslings happy choice:
Come, Flora, strew the bridemaid’s bed,
And with a garland crowne her head;
Or if thy flowers be to seek,
Come gather roses at her cheek.
Come, Hymen, light thy torches, let
Thy bed with tapers be beset,
And if there be no fire by,
Come light thy taper at her eye;
In that bright eye there dwells a starre,