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A Sonnet within the pillar of the Table at the Banquet.
1.
COme away blest soules no more
Feede your eyes with what is poore.
'Tis enough that you haue blest
What was rude; what was undrest,
And created in a trice
Out of Chaos paradise.
Come away and cast your eyes
On this humble sacrifice.
2.
We no golden apples giue,
Here's no Adam, here's no Eve:
Not a Serpent dares appeare,
Whilest your Majesties stay here.
Oh then sit, and take your due,
Those the first fruits are that grewe
In this Eden, and are throwne
On this Altar as your owne.
3.
Set a chaire for earth's Jove,
Bring another for his love.
Come away, vouchsafe to taste
What was gathered up in haste,
If we live another yeare
By your grace and favour here;
Italy, and France, and Spaine
Of their fruits shall boast in vaine.