SONG. To a Lady not yet enjoy'd by her Husband.

COme Celia, fixe thine eyes on mine,
And through those Crystalls our soules slitting,
Shall a pure wreathe of eye-beautes twine,
Our loving hearts together knitting;
Let Eaglets the bright Sun survey,
Though the blind Mole discerne not day:

When cleere Aurora leaves her mate,
The light of her gray eyes dispising,
Tot all the world doth celebrate
With sacrifice, her faire up-rising.
Let Eaglets, &c.

A Dragon kept the golden fruit,
Tet he those dainties never tasted;
As others pin'd in the pursuit,
So he himselfe with plentie wasted:
Let Eaglets, &c.