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When Wee are Shaddowes both, then t'was before. [f. 28v]
When weather-beaten I come backe, My hand
Perhaps with rude Oares torne, or Sun-beames tan'd,,
My face, and Brest of haire cloth, and my head
With Cares rashe- suddaine- stormes orespredd.
My Bodie a Sacke of Bones, broken within.
And Powders blew staines scattered on my skynne.
If riuall Fooles taxe thee, to haue lov'd a Man
Soe fowle, soe course, as oh! I maie seeme then,.
This shall saye what I was: And thou shalt saye,
Doe his hurtes reach Mee? Doth my worth decaye?
Or doe they reach his iudging mind, that Hee
Shall* like, and loue lesse, what hee did loue to see?
That wch in him was faire, and delicate
Was but the Milke, wth in loues Childish state,
Did nourse yt, who now is growne strong enoughe
To feede on that, wch (to disus'd tastes) seemes toughe|
Elegie .8.
Sorrowe who to this House scarse knew the waye,
Is oh! Heire of it, Our All is his Praye.
This strang chance, claymes strang wonder, & to vs
Nothing can bee soe strang, as to weepe thus.

[CW: Tis]