 | Small poems of Divers sorts |  |
66. To Master Francis Shalcross, and Mrs. Julia Boteler my Niece, on their wedding night.
To bed (fair bride) your happy groom(Full of desire) doth long to come,
Now lye down by her in a trice;
Your Genial bed's a Paradise.
Though she's to lose, you are to get,
Her Zone unti'd unriddles it:
You need not any sweet forbear,
Both moving in your proper sphere.
I need not wish you joy; you have
What Heaven can give, or Lovers crave:
But truely wish (unto this height)
It may last both your lives. Good night.
| Small poems of Divers sorts | |