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| Whose fruite thrue death, On else imortall vs, [f. 58v] |
| If leacherous goates, if serpentes envious |
| Cannot be damnd; Alas why should I be? |
| Why should intent, or reason borne in me |
| Make sins, else equall, in me more heynous |
| And mercy being easy, and glorious |
| To god, in his sterne wrath, why threatens he |
| But who am I, that dare dispute wth thee? |
| Oh God; oh of thine only worthy blood |
| And my teares make a hevenly Letheā flood, |
| And drowne in it my Sinns black memory |
| That thou remember them, some clayme as debt |
| I thinke it mercy, if thou wilt forgett. |
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| 6. |
| Death be not proud, though some have called thee |
| Mighty and dreadfull, for thou art not soe |
| For those whom thou thinkest thou dost overthrow |
| Die not, poore death, nor yett canst thou kill me |
| From rest, and sleepe, wch but thy pictures be |
| Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow, |
| And soonest our best men wth thee do goe; |
| Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie |
| Thou art slave to fate, Chance, kings, & desperate men
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[CW: And] |