|
| My fire of Passion, sighs of air, |
| Water of tears, and earthy sad despair, |
| Which my materials be, |
| (But neer worn out by loves securitie) |
| She, to my loss, doth by her death repare, |
| And I might live long wretched so |
| But that my fire doth with my fuel grow. |
| Now as those Active Kings |
| Whose forain conquest treasure brings, |
| Receive more, and spend more, and soonest break; |
| This (which I'am amaz'd that I can speak) |
| This death hath with my store |
| My use increas'd. |
| And so my soul more earnestly releas'd, |
| Will outstrip hers: As bullets flown before |
| A later bullet may o'rtake, the powder being more. |
|
| A Jeat Ring Sent. |
|
| Thou art not so black as my heart, |
| Nor half so brittle, as her heart, thou art; |
| What wouldst thou say? shall both our properties by thee be spoke. |
| Nothing more endless, nothing sooner broke? |
|
| Mariage rings are not of this stuffe; |
| Oh, why should ought less precious, or less tough |
| Figure our loves? except in thy name thou have bid it say |
| I'm cheap, and nought but fashion, fling me'away. |
|
| Yet stay with me since thou art come, |
| Circle this fingers top, which didst her thomb: |
| Be justly proud, and gladly safe, that thou dost dwell with me |
| She that, oh, broke her faith, would soon break thee.
|
[CW: Negative] |