 | Small poems of Divers sorts |  |
118. His Mistress.
She is his own, and he is happy much,Because besides himself none doth her touch:
But 'tis not for respect to him, or her;
For she's so foul all men do her abhor.
She constant is to him against her minde,
And he t'her, 'cause he can no other find.
| Small poems of Divers sorts | |