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Not that in colour it seemd like thy haire. For Armletts of that thou maist lett mee weare; Nor that thy hand it oft embract, and kist, For soe it had that good which oft I mist. Nor for that sylly old Moralitie That as those links are tide, or loues should bee Mourne I, that I thy seauen fold chaine haue lost, Nor for the lucks sake, but the bitter cost. Oh shall twelue righteous Angells which as yett, No leuen of vile Soder did admitt, Nor yet by any fault haue straid, or gone From the first state of their creation Angells which heauen commanded to prouide, All things to mee, and bee my faythfull guide; To gaine new friends to appease great Enimies To comfort my Soule, when I lie or rise Shall thes twelue Innocents by thy severe Sentence (dread Iudge) my sins great burthen beare Shall they bee damd, and in the furnace throwne, And punished for offences not their owne? They saue not mee they doe not ease my paines When in that hell they are burnt, and tied in chaines Were they but crownes of France I cared not For most of them their naturall country rot I thinke possesseth; they come heere to vs So leane, so pale, so lame, so ruinous: And howsoere French kyngs most Christian bee [CW: their] |
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