Hymen

Rosalind, to Duke
I’ll have no father, if you be not he.
 To Orlando.
I’ll have no husband, if you be not he,
 To Phoebe.
Nor ne’er wed woman, if you be not she.

Whiles a wedlock hymn we sing,
Feed yourselves with questioning,
That reason wonder may diminish
How thus we met,
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