Sonnet. The Token.
S END me some token, that my hope may live,
Or that my easelesse thoughts may sleep and rest;
Send me some honey to make sweet my hive,
That in my passion I may hope the best.
5I beg noe ribbond wrought with thine owne hands,
To knit our loves in the fantastick straine
Of new-toucht youth; nor Ring to shew the stands