p.
| |
|
Who euer guesses, thinks, or dreames hee knowes Who is my Mistresse, wither by this curse His, only and only his purse May some dull hart to loue dispose And shee yeald then to all that are his foes. May hee bee scornd by one whome all else scorne, Forsweare to others what to her hee hath sworne, With feare of missinge, shame of getting torne. Madness his sorrowe, Gowte his crampes may hee Make, but by thinkeinge who made him such; And may hee feele no touch Of conscience, but of Fame: and bee Anguishd, not that twas sinne, but that twas shee; In earlie and long scarsenesse may he rott For land, which had bin his, if hee had nott Himselfe Incestuouslye an heire begott May hee dreame treason, and beleeue that hee Ment to performe itt, and confesse, and die And no record tell why, His sonnes which none of his may bee, Inherit nothinge but his, Infamie. Or may hee soe longe Parasites haue fedd That hee would faine bee theirs, whome hee hath bred And at the least bee circumsized for bread The Venime of all Stepdames, Gamesters gall, What tyrants, And their Subiects inter wish, [CW: What] |
 |