Wise nature, that the dew of sleep prepares
To intermit our joys and ease our cares,
Invites you from these triumphs to your rest!
May every whisper that is made be chaste,
Each lady slowly yield, yet yield at last;
‖: Her heart a prisoner :‖ to her lover’s breast.
To wish unto our royal lover more
Of youthful blessings than he had before,
Were but to tempt old nature ’bove her might,
Since all the odour, music, beauteous fire,
We, in the spring, the spheres, the stars, admire
‖: Is his renewed and bettered every night! :‖
To bed, to bed! may every lady dream
From that chief beauty she hath stolen a beam,
Which will amaze her lover’s curious eyes!
Each lawful lover, to advance ‖: his youth, :‖
Dream he hath stolen his vigour, love and truth;
Then all will haste to bed but none to rise!