The LADYs Garland.
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A Virtuous young lady, ingenious and fair,
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A noblemans daughter whose name I forbear
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To mention. But now I will speak in brief,
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The sum of her trouble, her sorrow and grief.
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And how she was suddenly struck with a dart.
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Which passd thro her breast into her innocent heart
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So that it obligd her to make grievous moan,
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When set in her closet or chamber alone.
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The man whom she fancyd nothing did know,
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How his youthful lady admird him so;
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Which made her grief the stronger we find,
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Because she could not discover her mind.
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For being one night at a dancing or ball,
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She saw this young gentlemen proper and tall:
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Whose gallant deportment so pleased her eye,
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That she thought none did his person out vie.
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The more she endeavourd her love to withdraw,
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The more she was wounded, perfection she saw
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In him, as she dancd with the ladies that night,
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Her soul to his breast took a passionate flight.
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Now when they had ended this comical mirth,
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She privately askd concerning his birth:
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It was told her an Oxfordshire gentlemans son,
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Who many a brave noble action had done.
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This added a second new flame to her love,
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She earnestly beggd of the powers above,
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To find out a way it might be reveald,
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For, said she, I die if its longer conceald.
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By excellent fortune she had her request,
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For this noble gallant above all the rest,
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Did wait on her home, where to tell in brief,
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From sighs he discoverd the cause of her grief.
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He found by her sighs and languishing eyes,
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That he was the man she did value and prize:
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Wherefore he did promise to come the next day,
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That he to her beauty a visit might pay.
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According to promise next morning he came,
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For true love had kindled an amorous flame
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Of earnest desire, he courted her still;
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And soon he obtained the ladys good will.
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Now his whole study was how to convey
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This amorous charming young lady away,
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To the joy finishs that so sudden begun,
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Who gains a fair lady great hazards must run.
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PART II.
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THEY walkd in the garden, under the trees,
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She shewed him him how he might come with ease;
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Says she, I can meet you when all are at rest,
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And with thee Ill go, as I hope to be blest.
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No one but my waiting maid of it shall know,
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I love her and therefore she with me shall go.
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With many soft kisses these lovers proceed,
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In this great adventure this night to proceed.
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The long-wishd for hour at last did arrive,
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The lady and maid and both did contrive
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To pack up her garments so rich and so gay,
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And so with her lover she posted away
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They up to the city of London did ride,
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Where all things convenient they soon did provide,
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For Wedding this lady of Fame and renown,
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Which done they tarryd three weeks in the town.
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To solace themselves in raptures of bliss.
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The mean time her honourd parents did miss
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Her, and sent man and horse both far and near,
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But they of their daughter no tidings could hear.
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Her parents, friends, and relations, likewise.
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Believd she was taken by sudden suprize,
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To wed her and bed her at some idle rate,
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Thereby to inherit her fathers estate.
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Some say this must be with her consent,
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Because that with her her chamber-maid went.
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With that said her father in passion and wrath,
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If with her consent I will punish them both.
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The family was in distraction we find,
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Her father and mother disturbed in mind;
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Her father and mother did bitterly mourn.
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And wishd for this beautiful ladys return.
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PART III.
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WHEN in this city some time they had stayd,
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The lady unto her husband thus said,
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Well try if my father will be reconcild,
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Perhaps they may pardon their innocent child.
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He gave his consent, and posted away,
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And came to her father and mother, when they
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Were sitting together, with friends in the hall,
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For pardon then both on their knees did fall.
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The father did storm with an angery brow,
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Ill grant you no pardon, but here I do vow.
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Him Ill send him to prison, and you Ill confine,
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Ill teach him to marry a daughter of mine.
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Dear honourd Father, the lady replyd,
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My husband you have but small reason to chide:
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What faults are committed impute them to me,
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And let my dear innocent husband fo free.
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Are you forsooth, madam able to bear
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The weight of my anger, well, well, I declare
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You shall have one share, and he have the rest,
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No manner of pitty Ill show I protest.
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Her lilly white hands she with sorrow did wring,
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Still crying, Ye powers, why did you bring
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My innocent husband to ruin and shame,
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When none in the world but me was to blame.
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It is but a folly your fate to bewail,
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Ill send him this minute strong guarded to goal;
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And you to your chamber, where both shall remain,
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And never more see one another again.
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Why are you resolvd to part man and wife?
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Alas, I as freely can part with my life;
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As to part with my jewel, my love let me have.
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Altho in a dungeon, a prison, or cave.
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She could not oblige them the least to relent,
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For strait to prison her dear love was sent,
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And she to her chamber was hurrd likewise,
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To put forth her sorrow with watery eyes.
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Her parents provided a servant to wait
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Upon her, with diet both early and late;
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One that was ill naturd, no other was she,
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Poor creature admitted or sufferd to see.
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To think of her jewel no rest could she take,
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But still in her chamber she went for his sake;
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For to think of his and her sorrowful doom,
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At length an infant did spring in her womb.
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With melting expressions of her great grief,
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She sent to her father for speedy relief,
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Declaring that she was with-child by her dear;
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But still he continued sharpe and severe.
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At length when the time of her travel drew nigh,
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Her parents afforded her a slender supply
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Of nourishwent just in the time of distress.
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But there was no freedom for her neertheless.
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Then being deliverd of a young son,
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Her parents sent for it their will must be done:
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She kist it at parting a thousand times oer,
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And said with a sigh, I shall see thee no more.
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PART IV.
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THEY sent for a nurse, who the child did receive
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And made the charming creature believe,
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By tokens and signs it was murderd indeed,
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To show they would have no more of the breed
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They brought back the mantle spotted with blood
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And put it before her; her eyes like a flood
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Of tears like a fountain did run down amain:
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She said, My innocent infant was slain.
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The father in prison, the infant destroyd,
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The mother in sorrow, who never enjoyd
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One minute of comfort since home I returnd,
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[S]uch are my parents so highly [co]ncernd.
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What can be the reason they hold him in scorn
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Hes handsome, discreet, and a gentleman born.
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Strait, proper, and comely in every limb,
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My heart in my body lies bleeding of him.
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He nothing enjoys for my spke but chains,
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For still in a prison of grief he remains;
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Because he wed one of a noble degree,
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I weep when I think what he suffers for me.
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While she in her chamber did weep and lament,
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Her father one morning a messenger setn,
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To bring her before him without more delay,
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Cloathed in apparrel most costly and gay:
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Now when to her honoured father she came,
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Said he, I have found out a person of fame,
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With whom you shall wed, hell make you his bride.
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O do not afflict me, dear father, she cryd,
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Im marryd already, the more is my grief,
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Debard of all pleasure, denyd of relief;
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Imprisoned and slighted with scorn and disdain,
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No lady had ever such cause to complain.
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You said, I dishonourd your family
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By wedding a man that was meaner than me;
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But it would be worse if I should contrive
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To marry another while he is alive.
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But was you to bring me the greatest on earth,
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The son of a powerful monarch by birth,
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Id mind him no more than a mere slave;
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The dearest of husbands in prison I have.
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Dearest daughter, this day well admit you to dine
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With all our relations. A banquet of wine
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I now have provided to pleasure my friends,
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Thats but a small kindness to make me amends.
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For all the sorrow that I have gone through,
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Alas, my poor innocent infant they slew;
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My husbands imprisond, my griefs manifold,
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How can I be merry when he is in hold?
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These words of his daughter made him to relent
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Therefore for her husband he presently sent,
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And cloathed him then in sumptuous array,
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And every fault was forgiven that day.
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Her parents and friends were reconcild,
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The nurse too was there, and deliverd the child
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Unto the young lady, whose comforts were more
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Than had been for the space of twelve months before
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Her husband appeard with so noble a grace,
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That every lady that was in the plaoe
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Did take much delight to speak in her praise,
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And wishd them to see many prosperous days.
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A squire spoke up with an audible voice,
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And said to her father, Neer grieve at the choice,
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For he is decended, as we do understand,
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By his mothers side, from a peer of the land.
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Nay, much more he said to his honour and fame,
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His friends were pleased, thro joy they pro[c]laim
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To tell forth their glory, which still doth abound,
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Throughout all the neighbouring villages round.
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