 | The Queen And Concubine |  |
The first Song, for pag. 88.
VVhat if a Day, or a moneth, or a yearCrown thy Delights
With a thousand, wish'd contentings?
May not the chance of a Night or an Hour
Cross thy Delights
With as many sad Tormentings?
Fortune, Honour, Beautie, Birth,
Are but blossomes dying.
Wanton Pleasures, doating Mirth,
Are but Shadows flying.
All our Joys
Are but Toys,
Idle thoughts deceiving:
None hath power
Of an Hour
In our lifes bereaving.
| The Queen And Concubine | |