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To Endimion Porter, upon
his recovery from a long Sicknesse.
Iust so the Sunne doth rise, as if last Night
He cal'd t'accompt the Moone, for all the light
She ever ow'd; now looks so full of scorne,
And pride; as she had payd him all this Morne!
So cleere a day, timely foretells; I now
Shall scape those Clouds, that hung upon my Brow
Whilst I thy sicknesse mourn'd; and lesse did sleep
Than faithfull Widowes, that sincerely weep.
A true presage! My hopes no sooner tell
What they desir'd, but strait I finde thee well.
Bless'd be the Stars; whose pow'rfull influence
Our healths, by Minerals, and Hearbs dispence!
And that's their chiefest use: who thinks that Fate
So many Stars did purposely create,
He cal'd t'accompt the Moone, for all the light
She ever ow'd; now looks so full of scorne,
And pride; as she had payd him all this Morne!
So cleere a day, timely foretells; I now
Shall scape those Clouds, that hung upon my Brow
Whilst I thy sicknesse mourn'd; and lesse did sleep
Than faithfull Widowes, that sincerely weep.
A true presage! My hopes no sooner tell
What they desir'd, but strait I finde thee well.
Bless'd be the Stars; whose pow'rfull influence
Our healths, by Minerals, and Hearbs dispence!
And that's their chiefest use: who thinks that Fate
So many Stars did purposely create,
And
