[A sweet Nosgay, Or pleasant Posye contayning a hundred and ten Phylosophicall Flowers] [by Isabella Whitney] |
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To her Cosen. F. VV.
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 | [A sweet Nosgay, Or pleasant Posye |  |
To her Cosen. F. VV.
Good Cosin myne, I hope in helthand safety you abyde.
And sore I long, to here if yet
you are to wedlock tyde.
Yf so you be, God graunt that well
both you and she it spend:
If not when s'ere it haps, I wish
that God much ioy you send.
And when you to the Cuntry come
or thither chaunce to send:
Let me you see, or haue some scroll,
that shall of you be pend.
And this accompt as nature binds
and meryts yours deserue:
I Cosin am, and faithfull Friend,
not minding once to swerue.
So wishing you as happy health,
as euer man possest:
I end, and you commyt to him
that euermore is blest.
Your poore Kinsewoman, IS. VV.
| [A sweet Nosgay, Or pleasant Posye | |