A Dialogue between two sisters Virgins bewailing their solitary life P.[enelope] P.[ulter] A.[nne] P.[ulter]
Younge Anne [marginal annotation]
Come my deare sister sit with mee a while
That wee both Time and sorrow may beguile
In this sweet shade by this cleer Purling Spring
Wee'l sit and help poor Philomele to sing
And to Compleat the Consort and the Quire 5
I would I had my Viol you your Lyre
Elder Pen [marginal annotation]
Aye mee my sister Time on restles wheels
Doth ever turn With wings upon his Heels
Fast as the sand that Haddles through his Glass
Regardles if our tears hee on doth Pass 10
Yet in the shade of this sad sycamore
Wee'l sit our wants and Losses to deplore
For all things here which doe in order Rise
Mee thinks in woe with us doe sympathise
These Cypris like our hopes doe lesser grow 15
This Bubling Fount like our sad eyes doe Flow
And though it doth a greater murmering keep
Yet wee may teach this living spring to weep
These Primroses like us neglected Fade
And Violets sit weeping in the shade 20
With us sad Hiacinthus sighs out aye
And lovly Aramantha doth display
Her beuties here to noe admireing eye
Just soe obliviated wee live and die
And for your Viol and my Theorbo Lute 25
They both Unstrung upon the Wall hang Mute
And in a unison will scarcely move
They'r soe unused ay mee to strains of Love
With Philomele wee may lament too Late
Our most disastrous and too differing Fate 30
Oh my Sad Heart would wee might pass our Howers
As innocently contented as these Flowers
Who shew their beuties to admireing eyes
Then breathing aromatick Odours dies
Come my dear Nan in this sad shade wee'l lye 35
And like them sweetly live and sweetly Die
Adonis blood the Enymonie up rears
Who knowes? such vertue may bee in our tears
These vilets, Primrose, payles which apears
Perhaps their number springs from virgins tears 40
O mee I would I might this very hower
Sigh my sad soul into this July Flower
Trust mee I gladly would trancmigerate
That my aflicted life might have a date
But wee (he las) in sad obscurity 45
Must hopeles live; and soe I doubt must die
Oh that a recluse life had bin my Fate
To tale our visits at a Curteous grate
[Ann] [marginal annotation]
Stay my Dear sister I have noe mind to die
A little more of this base World I'le trie 50
And if whats future prove like what is past
I'le patient bee, I can but die at last
Then let us cease in vain to make our moan
And goe to our sad Mother shee's alone.