As Chaste As Unsunned Snow.

Look How The World's Poor People Are Amazed At Apparitions, Signs And Prodigies!

Thus Weary Of The World, Away She Hies, And Yokes Her Silver Doves; By Whose Swift Aid Their Mistress Mounted Through The Empty Skies In Her Light Chariot Quickly Is Convey'd; Holding Their Course To Paphos, Where Their Queen Means To Immure Herself And Not Be Seen.

But, Soft! What Light Through Yonder Window Breaks? It Is The East, And Juliet Is The Sun.

For In The Fatness Of These Pursy Times Virtue Itself Of Vice Must Pardon Beg.

I Take Thee At Thy Word: Call Me But Love, And I'll Be New Baptized; Henceforth I Never Will Be Romeo.