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Thou know'st, my Julia, that it is thy turn This morning's incense to prepare and burn. The chaplet and Inarculum[L] here be, With the white vestures, all attending thee. This day the queen-priest thou art made, t' appease Love for our very many trespasses. One chief transgression is, among the rest, Because with flowers her temple was not dressed; The next, because her altars did not shine With daily fires; the last, neglect of wine; For which her wrath is gone forth to consume Us all, unless preserved by thy perfume. Take then thy censer, put in fire, and thus, O pious priestess! make a peace for us. For our neglect Love did our death decree; That we escape. Redemption comes by thee.

Born I was to be old, And for to die here: After that, in the mould Long for to lie here. But before that day comes Still I be bousing, For I know in the tombs There's no carousing.