To a Love-Feast we both invited are: The figur'd Damask, or pure Diaper, Over the golden Altar now is spread, With Bread, and Wine, and Vessells furnished; The sacred Towell, and the holy Eure Are ready by, to make the Guests all pure: Let's go (my Alma) yet e're we receive, Fit, fit it is, we have our Parasceve. Who to that sweet Bread unprepar'd doth come Better he starv'd, then but to tast one crumme. |