Marriage Songs

An Epithalamion, Or mariage Song on the Lady Elizabeth, and CountPalatine being married on St. Valentines day.

Haile Bishop Valentine, whose day this is,All the Aire is thy Diocis,And all the chirping ChoristersAnd other birds are thy Parishioners,Thou marryest every yeareThe Lirique Larke, and the grave whispering Dove,The Sparrow that neglects his life for love,The household Bird, with the red stomacher,Thou mak'st the black bird speed as soone,As doth the Goldfinch, or the Halcyon;The husband cocke lookes out, and straight is sped,And meets his wife, which brings her feather-bed.This day more cheerfully then ever shine,This day, which might enflame thy self, Old Valentine.

Till now, Thou warmd'st with multiplying lovesTwo larkes, two sparrowes, or two Doves,All that is nothing unto this,For thou this day couplest two Phœnixes;Thou mak'st a Taper seeWhat the sunne never saw, and what the Arke(Which was of soules, and beasts, the cage, and park,)Did not containe, one bed containes, through Thee,Two Phœnixes, whose joyned breastsAre unto one another mutuall nests,Where motion kindles such fires, as shall giveYong Phœnixes, and yet the old shall live.Whose love and courage never shall decline,But make the whole year through, thy day, O Valentine.

Up then faire Phœnix Bride, frustrate the Sunne,Thy selfe from thine affectionTakest warmth enough, and from thine eyeAll lesser birds will take their Jollitie.Up, up, faire Bride, and call,Thy starres, from out their severall boxes, takeThy Rubies, Pearles, and Diamonds forth, and makeThy selfe a constellation, of them All,And by their blazing, signifie,That a Great Princess falls, but doth not die;Bee thou a new starre, that to us portendsEnds of much wonder; And be Thou those ends.Since thou dost this day in new glory shine,May all men date Records, from this thy Valentine.

Come forth, come forth, and as one glorious flameMeeting Another, growes the same,So meet thy Fredericke, and soTo an unseparable union growe.Since separationFalls not on such things as are infinite,Nor things which are but one, can disunite,You'are twice inseparable, great, and one;Goe then to where the Bishop staies,To make you one, his way, which divers waiesMust be effected; and when all is past,And that you'are one, by hearts and hands made fast,You two have one way left, your selves to'entwine,Besides this Bishops knot, or Bishop Valentine.

But oh, what ailes the Sunne, that here he staies,Longer to day, then other daies?Staies he new light from these to get?And finding here such store, is loth to set?And why doe you two walke,So slowly pac'd in this procession?Is all your care but to be look'd upon,And be to others spectacle, and talke?The feast, with gluttonous delaies,Is eaten, and too long their meat they praise,The masquers come too late, and'I thinke, will stay,Like Fairies, till the Cock crow them away.Alas, did not Antiquity assigneA night, as well as day, to thee, O Valentine?

They did, and night is come; and yet wee seeFormalities retarding thee.What meane these Ladies, which (as thoughThey were to take a clock in peeces,) goeSo nicely about the Bride;A Bride, before a good night could be said,Should vanish from her cloathes, into her bed,As Soules from bodies steale, and are not spy'd.But now she is laid; What though shee bee?Yet there are more delayes, For, where is he?He comes, and passes through Spheare after Spheare,First her sheetes, then her Armes, then any where.Let not this day, then, but this night be thine,Thy day was but the eve to this, O Valentine.

Here lyes a shee Sunne, and a hee Moone here,She gives the best light to his Spheare,Or each is both, and all, and soThey unto one another nothing owe,And yet they doe, but areSo just and rich in that coyne which they pay,That neither would, nor needs forbeare, nor stay;Neither desires to be spar'd, nor to spare,They quickly pay their debt, and thenTake no acquittances, but pay again;They pay, they give, they lend, and so let fallNo such occasion to be liberall.More truth, more courage in these two do shine,Then all thy turtles have, and sparrows, Valentine.

And by this act of these two PhenixesNature againe restored is,For since these two are two no more,Ther's but one Phenix still, as was before.Rest now at last, and weeAs Satyres watch the Sunnes uprise, will stayWaiting, when your eyes opened, let out day,Onely desir'd, because your face wee see;Others neare you shall whispering speake,And wagers lay, at which side day will breake,And win by'observing, then, whose hand it isThat opens first a curtaine, hers or his;This will be tryed to morrow after nine,Till which houre, wee thy day enlarge, O Valentine.