To her Sister Mistress A. B.

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Because I to my brethern wrote and to my sisters two:Good sister Anne, you this might wote, if so I should not doTo you, or ere I parted hence,You vainly had bestowed expence.

Yet is it not for that I write, for nature did you bindTo do me good, and to requite hath nature me inclined:Wherefore good sister take in greeThese simple lines that come from me.

Wherein I wish you Nestor's days, in happy health to rest:With such success in all assays as those which God hath blest:Your husband with your pretty boys,God keep them free from all annoys.

And grant if that my luck it be to linger here so longTill they be men, that I may see for learning them so strongThat they may march amongst the bestOf them which learning have possest.

By that time will my aged years perhaps a staff require:And quakingly as still in fears my limbs draw to the fire:Yet joy I shall them so to see,If any joy in age there be.

Good sister so I you commend to him that made us all:I know you huswifery intend, though I to writing fall:Wherefore no lenger shall you stayFrom business that profit may.

Had I a husband, or a house, and all that longs thereto,My self could frame about to rouse, as other women do:But till some household cares me tie,My books and pen I will apply.

Your louing Sister. IS. W.

© Isabella Whitney