|
Shadowes before the shining sunne do vanish
|
|
|
|
Could my heart more tongues imploy
|
|
|
|
Whether away my sweetest deerest?
|
|
|
|
To My Worthy Friend, Mr. John Mounson, Sonne and Heyre to Sir Thomas Mounson, Knight and Baronet
|
|
|
|
Hide not, sweetest Love, a sight so pleasing
|
|
|
|
Leave prolonging thy distresse
|
|
|
|
The Spyres Curten
|
|
|
|
Ev'ry Dame affects good fame, what ere her doings be
|
|
|
|
Wise men patience never want
|
|
|
|
So sweet is thy discourse to me
|
|
|