Come Girl, And Embrace

Come girl, and embrace     And ask no more I wed thee;     Know then you are sweet of face,     Soft-limbed and fashioned lovingly;     Must you go marketing your charms     In cunning woman-like,     And filled with old wives' tales' alarms?     I tell you, girl, come embrace;     What reck we of churchling and priest     With hands on paunch, and chubby face?     Behold, we are life's pitiful least,     And we perish at the first smell     Of death, whither heaves earth     To spurn us cringing into hell.     Come girl, and embrace;     Nay, cry not, poor wretch, nor plead,     But haste, for life strikes a swift pace,     And I burn with envious greed:     Know you not, fool, we are the mock     Of gods, time, clothes, and priests?     But come, there is no time for talk.