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Henry King - To my Sister Anne King, who chid me in verse for being angry
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Dear Nan, I would not have thy counsel lost, 
Though I last night had twice so much been crost; 
Well is a Passion to the Market brought, 
When such a treasure of advice is bought 
With so much dross. And could`st thou me assure, 
Each vice of mine should meet with such a cure, 
I would sin oft, and on my guilty brow 
Wear every misperfection that I ow, 
Open and visible; I should not hide 
But bring my faults abroad: to hear thee chide 
In such a Note, and with a Quill so sage, 
It Passion tunes, and calmes a Tempests rage. 
Well I am charm`d, and promise to redress 
What, without shrift, my follies doe confess 
Against my self: wherefore let me intreat, 
When I fly out in that distemper`d heat 
Which frets me into fasts, thou wilt reprove 
That froward spleen in Poetry and Love: 
So though I lose my reason in such fits, 
Thoul`t rime me back again into my wits.
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