|
| III. |
|
| O might those sighes and teares returne againe |
| Into my breast and eyes, which I have spent, |
| That I might in this holy discontent |
| Mourne with some fruit, as I have mourn'd in vaine; |
| In mine Idolatry what showres of raine |
| Mine eyes did waste? what griefs my heart did rent? |
| That sufferance was my sinne I now repent, |
| 'Cause I did suffer I must suffer paine. |
| Th'hydroptique drunkard, & night-scouting thiefe, |
| The itchy Lecher, and selfe tickling proud |
| Have the remembrance of past joyes, for reliefe |
| Of comming ills. To (poore) me is allow'd |
| No ease; for, long, yet vehement griefe hath beene |
| Th'effect and cause, the punishment and sinne. |
|
| IV. |
|
| Oh my black Soule now thou art summoned |
| By sicknesse, deaths herald and champion; |
| Thou art like a pilgrim, which abroad hath done |
| Treason, and durst not turne to whence he is fled, |
| Or like a thiefe, which till deaths doome be read, |
| Wisheth himselfe delivered from prison;
|
[CW: But] |