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Let all the virgins therefore well await;

And ye, fresh boys, that tend upon her groom,

Prepare yourselves, for he is coming straight.

Set all your things in seemly good

array,

Fit for so joyful day:

The joyfull'st day that ever sun did

see.

Fair sun! show forth thy favorable ray,

And let thy lifeful heat not fervent be,
For fear of burning her sunshiny face.
Her beauty to disgrace.

O fairest Phoebus! father of the Muse!
If ever I did honor thee aright,
Or sing the thing that might thy
mind delight,

Do not thy servant's simple boon refuse,

But let this day, let this one day be mine;

Let all the rest be thine.

Then I thy sovereign praises loud will sing,

That all the woods shall answer, and their echo ring.

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Lo! where she comes along with portly pace,

Like Phoebe, from her chamber of the east,

Arising forth to run her mighty race, Clad all in white, that seems a virgin best.

So well it her beseems, that ye would

ween

Some angel she had been. Her long loose yellow locks; like golden wire

Sprinkled with pearl, and pearling flowers atween,

Do like a golden mantle her attire; And being crowned with a garland green,

Seem like some maiden queen.
Her modest eyes, abashed to behold
So many gazers as on her do stare,
Upon the lowly ground affixèd are;
Ne dare lift up her countenance too
bold,

But blush to hear her praises sung so loud,

So far from being proud. Nathless do ye still loud her praises sing,

That all the woods may answer, and your echo ring.

Tell me, ye merchants' daughters, did

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Regard of Honor, and mild Modesty; His life was nigh unto death's door There Virtue reigns as queen in royal

throne,

And giveth laws alone,

The which the base affections do obey, And yield their services unto her will:

Ne thought of things uncomely ever may

Thereto approach to tempt her mind to ill.

Had ye once seen these her celestial treasures,

And unrevealed pleasures, Then would ye wonder and her praises sing,

That all the woods would answer, and your echo ring.

And

yplaced,

threadbare coat and cobbled shoes he ware;

Ne scarce good morsel all his life did taste;

But both from back and belly still did spare,

To fill his bags, and riches to compare;

Yet child nor kinsman living had he

none

To leave them to; but thorough daily

care

To get, and nightly fear to lose, his

own,

He led a wretched life unto himself unknown.

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Whose wealth was want, whose

plenty made him poor,

from her knight divorced in despair,

her due loves derived to that vile witch's share.

Who had enough, yet wished ever-Yet, she most faithful lady all this

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while,

Far from all people's preace, as in Forsaken, woful, solitary maid, In wilderness and wasteful deserts exile, strayed,

To

seek her knight; who, subtily

Through that late vision, which th’ betrayed Enchanter wrought,

Had her abandoned. She of nought afraid,

Through woods and wasteness wide him daily sought;

Yet wished tidings none of him unto her brought.

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