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 And gild the bays and rosemary; What posies for our wedding rings; What gloves we'll give and ribandings: And smiling at ourselves, decree, Who then the joining priest shall be. What short, sweet prayers shall be said; And how the posset shall be made With cream of lilies, not of kine, And maiden's-blush, for spiced wine. Thus, having talked, we'll next commend A kiss to each, and so we'll end. Draw-gloves, talking on the fingers. Philomela, daughter of Pandion, changed into a nightingale. Phyllis, the S. Phyllis of a former lyric (To Groves). Gild the bays, see Note to 479.


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As wearied pilgrims, once possest Of long'd-for lodging, go to rest, So I, now having rid my way, Fix here my button'd staff and stay. Youth, I confess, hath me misled; But age hath brought me right to bed. Button'd, knobbed.


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NOW LADY TRACY. Spring with the lark, most comely bride, and meet Your eager bridegroom with auspicious feet. The morn's far spent, and the immortal sun Corals his cheek to see those rites not done.