Cynthius, pluck ye by the ear, That ye may good doctrine hear; Play not with the maiden-hair, For each ringlet there's a snare. Cheek, and eye, and lip, and chin-- These are traps to take fools in. Arms, and hands, and all parts else, Are but toils, or manacles, Set on purpose to enthral Men, but slothfuls most of all. Live employed, and so live free From these fetters; like to me, Who have found, and still can prove, _The lazy man the most doth love_. 149. AN EPITHALAMY TO SIR THOMAS SOUTHWELL AND HIS LADY. I. Now, now's the time, so oft by truth Promis'd should come to crown your youth. Then, fair ones, do not wrong Your joys by staying long; Or let love's fire go out, By lingering thus in doubt; But learn that time once lost Is ne'er redeem'd by cost. Then away; come, Hymen, guide To the bed the bashful bride. II. Is it, sweet maid, your fault these holy Bridal rites go on so slowly? Dear, is it this you dread The loss of maidenhead? Believe me, you will most Esteem it when 'tis lost; Then it no longer keep, Lest issue lie asleep. Then, away; come, Hymen, guide To the bed the bashful bride. III. These precious, pearly, purling tears But spring from ceremonious fears. And 'tis but native shame That hides the loving flame, And may a while control The soft and am'rous soul; But yet love's fire will waste Such bashfulness at last. Then, away; come, Hymen, guide To the bed the bashful bride. IV. Night now hath watch'd herself half blind, Yet not a maidenhead resign'd! 'Tis strange, ye will not fly To love's sweet mystery. Might yon full moon the sweets Have, promised to your sheets, She soon would leave her sphere, To be admitted there. Then, away; come, Hymen, guide To the bed the bashful bride. V. On, on devoutly, make no stay; While Domiduca leads the way, And Genius, who attends The bed for lucky ends. With Juno goes the Hours And Graces strewing flowers. And the boys with sweet tunes sing: Hymen, O Hymen, bring Home the turtles; Hymen, guide To the bed the bashful bride. VI. Behold! how Hymen's taper-light Shows you how much is spent of night. See, see the bridegroom's torch Half wasted in the porch. And now those tapers five, That show the womb shall thrive, Their silv'ry flames advance, To tell all prosp'rous chance Still shall crown the happy life Of the goodman and the wife. VII.