For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast, And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger; At whose approach ghosts wandring here and there Troop home to church-yards.... For fear lest day should look their shames upon, They willfully exile themselves from light, And must for aye consort with black brow'd night.

Let witchcraft join with beauty, lust with both!

Your hearts are mighty, your skins are whole.

God, the best maker of all marriages, Combine your hearts into one.

O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonderful! And yet again wonderful, and after that, out of all hooping.

Every cloud engenders not a storm.

Whose heart the accustom'd sight of death makes hard.