1608-1644.
On a Wedding.
Her feet beneath her petticoat,
Like little mice, stole in and out,
As if they feared the light;
But oh! she dances such a way!
No sun upon an Easter-day
Is half so fine a sight.
Her lips were red, and one was thin,
Compared with that was next her chin,
Some bee had stung it newly.
Song.
Why so pale and wan, fond lover,
Prithee, why so pale?
Will, when looking well can't move her,
Looking ill prevail?
Prithee, why so pale?