1. Come, O, come, I brook no stay:
He doth not love that can delay.
See how the stealing night
Hath blotted out the light,
And tapers do supply the day.
2. To be chaste is to be old;
And that foolish girl that's cold
Is fourscore at fifteen:
Desires do write us green,
And looser flames our youth unfold.
Mean. 'T cannot be her, her voice was ne'er profan'd
With such immodest numbers.
3. See, the first taper's almost gone;
Thy flame like that will straight be none,
And I as it expire,
Not able to hold fire:
She loseth time that lies alone.
Mean. 'Tis the breath
Of something troubled with virginity.
4. O, let us cherish then these powers,
Whiles we yet may call them ours:
Then we best spend our time,
When no dull zealous chime,
But sprightful kisses strike the hours.
Enter Priscilla.
Mean. What dost thou mean?
Pris. Only to please you, sir.
Mean. Sweetest of things, was't thou? I' faith, I guess'd
'T could be no other's melody but yours.
There have been many of your sex much given
Unto this kind of music.