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Yet I found something like a heart,
But colours it, and corners had,
It was not good, it was not bad,
It was intire to none, and few had part.
As good as could be made by art
It seem'd, and therfore for our losses sad,
I meant to send this heart in stead of mine,
But oh, no man could hold it, for twas thine.
A Feaver.
Oh doe not die, for I shall hate
All women so, when thou art gone,
That thee I shall not celebrate,
When I remember, thou wast one.
But yet thou canst not die, I know,
To leave this world behinde, is death,
But when thou from this world wilt goe,
The whole world vapours with thy breath.
Or if, when thou, the worlds soule, goest,
It stay, tis but thy carkasse then,
The fairest woman, but thy ghost,
But corrupt wormes, the worthyest men.

[CW: O]