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Though thou bee much lou'd in the Princes hall [117]
There, things that seeme, exceed substantiall.
Gods, when you fum'd on Altars, were pleasd well
That you were burnt, not that they likd the smell
Y'are lothesome all beeing simply ta'ne alone,
Shall wee loue ill things ioynd, and hate each one?
If you were good, that good doth soone decay
And you ar rare that take the good away.
All my perfumes I giue most willingly
To embalme thy fathers corps, what will hee dye?
P. Elegy.3.
ffond woman, w.ch wouldst haue thy husband dye
And yet complaynst of his greate Iealousy!
If swolne with poyson hee lay in his last bedd
His body with a Seare barke couered
Drawing his breath, as thick and short, as can
The nimblest crotcheting Musitian
Ready with lothesome vomiting to spue
His soule out of one Hell into a New
Made deafe with his poore kindreds howling cryes
Begging with few faynd teares greate Legacyes,
Thou wouldst not weepe, but iolly and frolick bee
As a slaue, w.ch to morrow should bee free
Yet weepst thou when thou seest him hungerly
Swallow his owne death harts-bane Iealousy

[CW: Ô giue___]