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When I died last, And deare, I die As often as from thee I goe, Though it bee an howre agoe, And louers howres bee full eternitie; I can remember yett that I Some thinge did saie, and something did bestowe Though I bee dead, which sent mee, I should bee Mine owne Executor and legacie; I heard mee saie, tell her anon That my selfe (thats yow, not I) Did kill mee, and when I felt mee die, I bidd mee send my hart, when I was gone But I alasse could there finde none, When I had ripd, and searcht where harts did lye; Itt kyld mee againe, That I who still was true In life, in my last will should cozen you. Yet I found some thing like a hart, Butt colours itt, and corners had, It was not good, It was not bad. It was entyre too none, and fewe had part; As good as could bee made by art Itt seemd, and therefore, for our losses, sad I meant to send this hart, in stead of myne But oh no Mann could holde itt, for twas thine| |
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