|
| And then againe to your embracements goe: |
| Some houres on us your frends, and some bestow |
| Upon your Muse, else both wee shall repent, |
| I that my love, she that her guifts on you are spent |
|
| To M. I. P. |
|
| Blest are your North parts, for all this long time |
| My Sun is with you, cold and darke'is our Clime; |
| Heavens Sun, which staid so long from us this yeare, |
| Staid in your North (I thinke) for she was there, |
| And hether by kinde nature drawne from thence, |
| Here rages chafes and threatens pestilence; |
| Yet I, as long as shee from hence doth staie, |
| Thinke this no South, no Sommer, nor no day. |
| With thee my kinde and unkinde heart is run, |
| There sacrifice it to that beauteous Sun: |
| So may thy pastures with their flowery feasts, |
| As suddenly as Lard, fat thy leane beasts; |
| So may thy woods oft poll'd, yet ever weare |
| A greene, and when thee list a golden haire; |
| So may all thy sheepe bring forth Twins; and so |
| In chace and race may thy horse all out goe; |
| So may thy love and courage ne'r be cold; |
| Thy Sonne ne'r Ward; Thy lov'd wife ne'r seem old; |
| But maist thou wish great things, and them attaine, |
| As thou telst her and none but her my paine.
|
[CW: To] |