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V. |
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If poysonous mineralls, and if that tree, |
Whose fruit threw death on else immortall us, |
If lecherous goats, if serpents envious |
Cannot be damn'd; Alas; why should I bee? |
Why should intent or reason, borne in mee, |
Make sinnes, else equall, in mee, more heinous? |
And mercy being easie, and glorious |
To God, in his sterne wrath, why threatens hee? |
But who am I, that dare dispute with thee? |
O God, Oh! of thine onely worthy blood, |
And my teares, make a heavenly Lethean flood, |
And drowne in it my sinnes blacke memorie, |
That thou remember them, some claime as debt, |
I thinke it mercy, if thou wilt forget, |
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VI. |
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Death be not proud, though some have called thee |
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not soe, |
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow, |
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill mee; |
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee, |
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow, |
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
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[CW: Rest] |