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What ere shee ment by itt, bury itt with mee; For since I am Loues Martyr, Itt might breed Idolatrie, If into others hands, these reliques came; As twas humilitye To afforde to it, all which a Soule cann doe; So tis som̅e brauerye That since yow would saue none of mee, I burye som̅e of yow When by thy scorne O murdresse I am dead, And that thou thinkst thee free From all solicitation from mee; Then shall my Goste come to thy bed And thee faind Vestall in worse armes shall see; Then thy sicke Taper will begin to winke And hee whose thou art then, being tired before Will if thou stirr, or pinch to wake him thinke Thou calst for more And in false sleepe, will from the shrincke And thou poore aspen wretch, neglected then Bathd in a cold quicksiluer sweate, willt lie A verier Ghost then I What I will say I will not tell thee now Least that preserue thee, And since my loue is spent I had rather thou shouldst painefully repent Then by my threatenings rest still Innocent.| |
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