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What if this present were the worlds last night? [32]
Marke in my Heart ô Soule where thou dost dwell
The picture of Christ crucifyd, and tell
Whether that Countenance can thee affright.
Teares in his eyes quench the amazing light
Bloud fills his frownes* wch from his pierc'd head fell
And can that tongue adiudge thee vnto hell
W.ch prayd forgiuenesse for his foes fierce spight?
No, no, but as in my Idolatry
I sayd to all my prophane mistresses
Beauty of pitty, foulenesse onely is
A signe of rigour; So I say to thee
To wicked sprights are horrid shapes assignd
This beauteous forme assures a pitteous mind.
Batter my Heart, Three-persond God, for you
As yet but knocke breath shine and seeke to mend
That I may rise and stand, or'e throw mee, and bend
Your force to breake blow burne, and make mee new
I, like an vsurpd towne to another due
Labour to admitt you, but o to no end
Reason yor viceroy in mee mee should defend
But is captiu'd and proues weake or vntrue
Yet dearely I loue you, and would bee loued fayne
But am betrothd vnto yor enemy
Diuorce mee, vntye, or breake that knott agayne
Take mee to you, emprison mee, for I
Except you enthrall mee never shall bee free
Nor ever chast except you rauish mee.|

[CW: In what]