Are governed with goodly modesty, 235 That suffers not one looke to glaunce awry, Which may let in a little thought unsownd. Why blush ye, love, to give to me your hand,

The pledge of all our band?

Sing, ye sweet angels, Alleluya sing, 240 That all the woods may answere, and your eccho ring.

Now al is done; bring home the bride againe,

Bring home the triumph of our victory, Bring home with you the glory of her gaine,

With joyance bring her and with jollity. 245
Never had man more joyfull day then this,
Whom heaven would heape with blis.
Make feast therefore now all this live long
day;

This day for ever to me holy is;

Poure out the wine without restraint or stay, 250

Poure not by cups, but by the belly full, Poure out to all that wull,

And sprinkle all the postes and wals with wine,

That they may sweat, and drunken be withall.

Crowne ye God Bacchus with a coronall. And Hymen also crowne with wreathes of vine; 256

And let the Graces daunce unto the rest, For they can doo it best:

The whiles the maydens doe theyr carroll sing,

The which the woods shal answer, and theyr eccho ring.

260

With bathing in the Acidalian brooke. Now it is night, ye damsels may be gon, And leave my love alone,

310

And leave likewise your former lay to sing: The woods no more shal answere, nor your echo ring.

May poure his limbs forth on your pleasant playne,

The whiles an hundred little wingèd loves, Like divers fethered doves,

Shall fly and flutter round about our bed, And in the secret darke, that none reproves, Their prety stealthes shall worke, and snares shal spread 361

To filch away sweet snatches of delight,
Conceald through covert night.

Ye sonnes of Venus, play your sports at will:

For greedy Pleasure, careless of your toyes, Thinks more upon her paradise of joyes, Then what ye do, albe it good or ill. 367 All night therefore attend your merry play, For it will soone be day:

Now none doth hinder you, that say or sing, Ne will the woods now answer, nor your eccho ring.

371