24. To the Maids, to Walk Abroad
Come, sit we under yonder tree,Where merry as the maids we’ll be;And as on primroses we sit,We’ll venture, if we can, at wit;If not, at draw-gloves we will play,So spend some minutes of the day;Or else spin out the thread of sands,Playing at questions and commands:Or tell what strange tricks Love can do,By quickly making one of two.Thus we will sit and talk, but tellNo cruel truths of Philomel,Or Phillis, whom hard fate forced onTo kill herself for Demophon;But fables we’ll relate; how JovePut on all shapes to get a Love;As now a satyr, then a swan,A bull but then, and now a man.Next, we will act how young men woo,And sigh and kiss as lovers do;And talk of brides; and who shall makeThat wedding-smock, this bridal-cake,That dress, this sprig, that leaf, this vine,That smooth and silken columbine.This done, we’ll draw lots who shall buyAnd gild the bays and rosemary;What posies for our wedding rings;What gloves we’ll give, and ribbonings;And smiling at our selves, decreeWho then the joining priest shall be;What short sweet prayers shall be said,And how the posset shall be madeWith cream of lilies, not of kine,And maiden’s-blush for spiced wine.Thus having talk’d, we’ll next commendA kiss to each, and so we’ll end.