Adhuc mea messis in herba

ADMIRED Ladie, I haue mused oft,
In silent night, when you haue beene in bed,
With your young husband, wherevpon you thought,
Or what conceipt possest your carefull head,
Since he we know, as yet had never seene,
His tendrest yeares, amounted to fifteene:

No question but you grieued inward much,
As doth the Miser, in a backward yeare:
When others reape, to see your harvest such,
And all your hopes, but in their blade appeare:
Ladie, let henceforth nought disease your rest,
For after-crops doe sometime prooue the best.