Oh, if you knew the pensive pleasure That fills my bosom when I sigh, You would not rob me of a treasure Monarchs are too poor to buy. Samuel RogersTo . St. 2.
Yet sighes, deare sighes, indeede true friends you are That do not leave your left friend at the wurst, But, as you with my breast, I oft have nurst So, gratefull now, you waite upon my care. Sir Philip SidneySighes.