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And Lovers houres be full eternitie,
I can remember yet, that I
Something did say, and something did bestow;
Though I be dead, which meant me, I should be
Mine owne executor, and Legacie.
I heard me say, Tell her anon,
That my selfe, that is you, not I,
Did kill me, and when I felt me die,
I bid me send my heart, when I was gone,
But I alas could there finde none,
When I had ripp'd, & search'd where hearts should lye,
It kill'd me againe, that I who still was true,
In life, in my last WIll should cozen you.
Yet I found something like a heart,
But colours it, and corners had,
It was not good, it was not bad,
It was intire to none, and few had part.
As good as could be made by art.
It seem'd, and therefore for our losses sad,
I meant to send that heart in stead of mine,
But oh, no man could hold it, for twas thine.
A Feaver.
Oh doe not die, for I shall hate
All women so, when thou art gone,
That thee I shall not celebrate,
When I remember thou wast one.

[CW: But]