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