|245| _Sir quin._ Where be these knaues? More Rose-mary and gloues, gloues, gloues: choose Gentlemen; Ladyes put on soft skins vpon the skin of softer hands; so, so: come mistris Bride take you your place, the olde men first, and then the Batchelors; Maydes with the Bride, Widdows and wiues together, the priest’s |250| at Church, tis time that we march thether. _Ter._ Deare _Blunt_ at our returne from Church, take paines to step to _Horace_, for our nuptiall songs; now Father when you please. _Sir quin._ Agreed, set on, come good Sir _Vaughan_, must we lead |255| the way? _Sir Vau._ _Peeter_ you goe too fast for Mistris pride: so, gingerly, gingerly; I muse why Sir _Adam Prickeshaft_ sticks so short behinde? _Sir quin._ He follows close, not too fast, holde vp knaues, |260| Thus we lead youth to church, they vs to graues. _Exeunt._ _Horrace sitting in a study behinde a Curtaine, a candle by him burning, bookes lying confusedly:_ to himselfe. _Hor._ To thee whose fore-head swels with Roses, |265| Whose most haunted bower Giues life & sent to euery flower, Whose most adored name incloses, Things abstruse, deep and diuine, Whose yellow tresses shine, |270| Bright as _Eoan_ fire. O me thy Priest inspire. For I to thee and thine immortall name, In--in--in golden tunes, For I to thee and thine immortall name-- |275| In--sacred raptures flowing, flowing, swimming, swimming: In sacred raptures swimming, Immortal name, game, dame, tame, lame, lame, lame, Pux, hath, shame, proclaime, oh-- In Sacred raptures flowing, will proclaime, not-- |280| O me thy Priest inspyre! For I to thee and thine immortall name, In flowing numbers fild with spright and flame, Good, good, in flowing numbers fild with spright & flame. _Enter_ Asinius Bubo. |285| _Asini._ _Horace_, _Horace_, my sweet ningle, is alwayes in labour when I come, the nine Muses be his midwiues I pray _Jupiter_: Ningle. _Ho._ In flowing numbers fild with sprite and flame, To thee. |290| _Asini._ To me? I pledge thee sweet Ningle, by _Bacchus_ quaffing boule, I thought th’adst drunke to me. _Hor._ It must haue been in the deuine lycour of _Pernassus_, then in which, I know you would scarce haue pledg’d me, but come sweet roague, sit, sit, sit. |295| _Asini._ Ouer head and eares yfaith? I haue a sacke-full of newes for thee, thou shalt plague some of them, if God send vs life and health together. _Hor._ Its no matter, empty thy sacke anon, but come here first honest roague, come. |300| _Asini._ Ist good, Ist good, pure _Helicon_ ha? _Hor._ Dam me ift be not the best that euer came from me, if I haue any iudgement, looke sir, tis an _Epithalamium_ for Sir _Walter Terrels_ wedding, my braines haue giuen assault to it but this morning. |305| _Asin._ Then I hope to see them flye out like gun-powder ere night.