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John Suckling - A Supplement of an Imperfect Copy of Verses of Mr. William Shakespeare
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One of her hands one of her cheeks lay under,
      Cosening the pillow of a lawful kiss,
    Which therefore swell`d, and seem`d to part asunder,
      As angry to be robb`d of such a bliss!
       The one look`d pale and for revenge did long,
       While t`other blush`d, `cause it had done the wrong.

     Out of the bed the other fair hand was
      On a green satin quilt, whose perfect white
    Look`d like a daisy in a field of grass,
     And show`d like unmelt snow unto the sight;
      There lay this pretty perdue, safe to keep
      The rest o` th` 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 stuff made,
     That it broke through, and show`d itself in scorn,
      Throwing a kind of light about the place,
      Which turn`d to smiles still, as`t came near her face.

    Her beams, which some dull 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
     Wiselier downwards sought, but falling short,
      Curled back in rings, and seemed to turn again
      To bite the part so unkindly held them in.
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