[The Brides Burial.]
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COME mourn, come mourn with me,
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You loyal Lovers all,
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Laments my Loss in Weeds of Woe,
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Whom griping Grief doth thrall.
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Like to the drooping Vine,
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Cut by the Gardener's Knife;
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Even so my Heart with Sorrow slain,
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Doth bleed for my sweet Wife.
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By De[a]th, that grisly Ghost,
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My Turtle Dove is slain;
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And I am left, unhappy Man!
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To spend my Days in Pain.
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Her Beauty, late so bright,
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Like Roses in their Prime,
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Is wasted like the Summer's Snow,
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By Force of Phoebus' Shine.
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Her fair and colour'd Cheeks
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Now pale, and wan her Eyes,
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Which late did shine like Crystal Stars,
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Alas! their Light it dies.
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Her pretty lilly-white Hands,
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With Fingers long and small,
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In Colour like the Earthly Clay,
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Yea, cold and stiff withal.
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When as the Morning Star
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Her golden Gates had spread,
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And the bright glittering Sun arose,
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Forth from fair Thetis' Bed,
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Then did my Lover wake,
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Most like a Lilly Flower,
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And as the lovely Queen of May,
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So shone she in her Bower.
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Attired was she then
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Like Flora in her Pride;
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As fair as any of Dians Nymphs,
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So look'd my lovely Bride.
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And as fair Helen's Face
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Gave Grecian Dames the Lurch,
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So did my Dear exceed in Sight
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All Virgins in the Church.
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When we had knit the Knot
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Of holy Wedlock's band,
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Like Alabaster join'd to Jet,
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So stood we Hand-in-Hand.
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When, lo! a chilling Cold
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Struck every vital Part,
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And griping Grief, like Pangs of Death,
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Seiz'd on my true Love's Heart.
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Down in a Swoon she fell,
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As cold as any Stone;
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Like Venus' Picture lacking Life,
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So was my Love brought home.
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At length he rosy Red,
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Throughout her comely Face,
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As Phoebus' Beams with watry Clouds
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Are cover'd for a Space.
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When with a grievous Groan,
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And Voice both hoarse and dry,
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Farewel,said she, my loving Friend,
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For this Day I must die.
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The Messenger of God
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With Golden Trump I see,
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With many other Angels more,
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Who sound and call for me.
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Instead of Musick sweet,
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Go toll my Passing-bell,
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And with sweet Flowers strew my Grave,
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Which in my Chamber smell.
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Strip off my bright Array,
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My Cork Shoes from my Feet;
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And, gentle Mother, be so kind,
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To bring my Winding Sheet.
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My Wedding Dinner drest,
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Bestow upon the Poor,
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Ann on the Hungry, Needy, Maim'd,
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Which beggeth at the Door.
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Instead of Virgins young,
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My Bride-Maids for to be,
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Go cause some curious Carpenter
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To make a Chest for me.
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My Bride-Laces of Silk
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Bestow'd on Maidens meek,
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May fitly serve,when I am dead,
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To tie my Hands and Feet,
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And thou, my Lover true,
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My Husband, and my Friend,
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Let me intreat you here to stay,
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Until my Life doth end.
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Now leave to talk of Love,
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And humble on your Knee,
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Direct your Prayers unto God,
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But mourn no more for me.
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In Love, as we have liv'd,
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In Love too let us part;
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And as a Token of my Love,
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Do kiss thee with my Heart.
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O staunch those bootless Tears,
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Your Weeping is in vain;
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I am not lost, we were in Heaven,
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And there shall meet again.
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With that she turn'd aside,
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As one dispos'd to sleep,
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And like a Lamb departed Life,
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While Friends did sorely weep.
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Her true Love seeing this,
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Did fetch a grievous Groan,
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As tho' his Heart was burst in two,
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And thus he made his Moan.
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O dismal and unhappy Day!
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A Day of Grief and Care,
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Which hath bereft the Sun so high,
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Whose beams refresh the Air.
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Now woe unto the World,
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And all that therein dwell.
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O! that I were with thee in Heav'n;
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For now I live in Hell.
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And now this Lover lives
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A discontented Life;
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Whose Bride was brought unto the Grave
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A Maiden and a Wife.
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A Garland fresh and fair,
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Of Lillies there was made,
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In Sign of her Virginity,
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And on her Coffin laid.
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Six Maidens all in White
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Did bear her to the Ground;
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The Bells did ring in solemn Sort,
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And made a doleful Sound.
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In Earth they laid her then,
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Fos hungry Worms a Prey:
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So shall the fairest Face alive
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At length be brought to Clay
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