A Supplement of an Imperfect Copy of Verses of Mr. William Shakespeare's, By the Author

1

One of her hands one of her cheeks lay under,
Cosening the pillow of a lawful kiss,
Which therefore swell'd, and seem'd to part asunder,
As angry to be robb'd of such a bliss:
The one lookt pale, and for revenge did long,
While t' other blush'd, 'cause it had done the wrong.

2

Out of the bed the other fair hand was
On a green satin quilt, whose perfect white
Lookt like a daisy in a field of grass,
And shew'd like unmelt snow unto the sight:
There lay this pretty perdue, safe to keep
The rest o' th' body that lay fast asleep.

3

Her eyes, (and therefore it was night), close laid,
Strove to imprison beauty till the morn;
But yet the doors were of such fine stuff made,
That it broke through, and shew'd itself in scorn,
Throwing a kind of light about the place,
Which turned to smiles still, as 't came near her face.


4

Her beams, which some dull men called hair, divided,
Part with her cheeks, part with her lips, did sport;
But these, as rude, her breath put by still: some
Wiselier downwards sought, but, falling short,
Curl'd back in rings, and seem'd to turn again
To bite the part so unkindly held them in.
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