Wee call this wedding, which, in any wise,
Can bee no mariage, but pollution playne:
A new found trade of humane marchaundise,
The deuil’s net, a filthy fleshly gayne,
Of kinde and nature an vnnaturall stayne,
A fowle abuse of God’s most holy order,
And yet allowde almost in euery border.
21.
Would God I were the last that shall haue cause
Agaynst this creping cankar to complayne,