Of happie wits, yet mine so well allow’d
That with the best she boldly durst confer
Him that his breath[2008] acknowledged from her.
7.
Twice flow’d proud Thames, as at my comming wood,
Striking the wondring borderers with feare,
And the pale genius of that aged flood
Vnto my mother[2009] labouring did appeare,
And with a countenance much distracted stood,
Threatning the fruit her pained wombe should beare: