A Supplement of an imperfect Copy of Verses of Mr. Wil. Shakespears, By the Author.

ONe of her hands, one of her cheeks lay under,
Cozening the pillow of a lawful kisse,
Which therefore swel'd, and seem'd to part asunder,
As angry to be rob'd of such a blisse:
The one lookt pale, and for revenge did long,
While t'other blusht, cause it had done the wrong.

Out of the bed the other fair hand was
On a green sattin quilt, whose perfect white
Lookt like a Dazie in a field of grasse,
*And shew'd like unmelt snow unto the sight,
There lay this pretty perdue, safe to keep
The rest oth' body that lay fast asleep.

Her eyes (and therefore it was night) close laid,
Strove to imprison beauty till the morn,
But yet the doors were of such fine stuffe made,
That it broke through, and shew'd it self in scorn.
Throwing a kind of light about the place,
which turnd to smiles stil as't came near her face.

Her beams (which some dul men call'd hair) divided
Part with her cheeks, part with her lips did sport,
But these, as rude, her breath put by still; some
Wiselyer downwards sought, but falling short,
Curl'd back in rings, and seem'd to turn agen
To bite the part so unkindly held them in.