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But who shall give thee that grace to begin? *
Oh make thy self with holy mourning black,
And red with blushing as thou art with sin;
Or wash thee in Christs bloud, which hath this might
That being red, it dies red souls to white.
V.
I am a little world made cunningly
Of Elements, and an Angelike spright,
But black sin hath betraid to endless night
My worlds both parts, and (oh) both parts must die.
You which beyond that heaven which was most high,
Have found new sphears, and of new land can write,
Pour new seas in mine eyes, that so he might
Drown my world with my weeping earnestly,
Or wash it if it must be drown'd no more:
But oh it must be burnt, alas the fire
Of lust and envy burnt it heretofore,
And made it fouler, Let their flames retire,
And burn me oh Lord, with a fierie zeal
Of thee and thy house, which doth in eating heale.
VI.
This is my playes last scene, here heavens appoint
My pilgrimages last mile; and my race
Idly, yet quickly run, hath this last pace,
My spans last inch, my minutes latest point,
And gluttonous death will instantly unjoynt
My body and soul, and I shall sleep a space,
But my ever-waking part shall see that face,
Whose fear already shakes my every joynt:
Then, as my soul, to heaven her first seat, takes flight,
And earth-born body in the earth shall dwell,

[CW: So]