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| IX. |
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| If poysonous minerals, and if that tree, |
| Whose fruit threw death on (else immortall) us, |
| If lecherous goats, if serpents envious |
| Cannot be damn'd, alas, why should I be? |
| Why should intent or reason, borne in mee, |
| Make sinnes, else equall, in me more hainous? |
| And mercy being easie, and glorious |
| To God; in his sterne wrath, why threatens hee? |
| But who am I, that dare dispute with thee? |
| O God, oh! of thine onely worthy blood, |
| And my teares, make a heavenly Lethean flood, |
| And drowne in it my sinnes black memorie; |
| That thou remember them, some claime as debt, |
| I thinke it mercy if thou wilt forget. |
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| X. |
|
| Death be not proud, though some have called thee |
| Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so, |
| For, those, whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow, |
| Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me. |
| From rest and sleepe, which but thy picture be, |
| Much pleasure, thē from thee, much more must flow, |
| And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
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[CW: Rest] |