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Whether away my sweetest deerest?
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To My Worthy Friend, Mr. John Mounson, Sonne and Heyre to Sir Thomas Mounson, Knight and Baronet
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Hide not, sweetest Love, a sight so pleasing
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Leave prolonging thy distresse
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The Spyres Curten
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Ev'ry Dame affects good fame, what ere her doings be
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Wise men patience never want
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So sweet is thy discourse to me
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Lift up to heav'n, sad wretch, thy heavy spright
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O Love, where are thy Shafts, thy Quiver, and thy Bow?
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