The Ivy — twine

Come my Cordelia let's not Leese
The frutes of youthfull passages
Time is a Theef and steals away
The Blessings that befrend each day
And Like a rank-wingd hawke in flight
Trusses the pastimes of the night
Soe that what's past is past recall
And what's to come conjecturall
It is the present tence alone
Guives life to true fruition
Graunt we may spend the lighter howers
And make the Day Platonick ours
Wee'l find the Night in darkned skies
T'sute better with Loves misteries
When in a soft embrace we meet
And crown all stollen pleasure sweet
Then we may sport and toy and play
Free from what scandelous censorings say
For Curtains drawn, the Valence will
Be silent, nor detect for ill
What is well meant: Let's banish fears
Since sheets and Blanckets have noe ears
Nor can the frame or Bed-cords speak
Unless by whispering a creak
Which can noe other signefy
But that those live who theron lie
And active bring all parts to joygne
In consort with this ivy-twine
Far sweeter than the Eglantine.