Yblent

Yet all theſe Sounds yblent inclined all to Sleep.

And was thilk ſame ſong of Colins owne making? / Ah fooliſh boy, that is with loue yblent:

She bragly turned her ungentle face, / And all disdaining ey'd my shape askaunce: / But I did blush, with grief and shame yblent, / Like morning-rose with hoary dewe besprent.