While in my heart, which marble, yet still bled,
Each Lover might this Epitaph have read.
"Her earth lyes here below; her soul's above,
This wonder speakes her vertue, and my love."
To a Friend,
Inviting him to a meeting upon promise.
May you drinke beare, or that adult'rate wine
Which makes the zeale of Amsterdam divine;
If you make breach of promise. I have now
So rich a Sacke, that even your selfe will bow