|
| A Feaver. |
|
| Oh do 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 go, |
| The whole world vapours in thy breath. |
|
| Or if, when thou, the worlds soul, goest, |
| It stay, 'tis but thy Carcass then, |
| The fairest woman, but thy ghost, |
| But corrupt wormes, the worthiest men. |
|
| O wrangling schools, that search what fire |
| shall burn this world, had none the wit |
| Unto this knowledge to aspire, |
| That this her feaver might be it! |
|
| And yet she cannot wast by this |
| Nor long endure this torturing wrong, |
| For more corruption needful is |
| To fuel such a feaver long. |
|
| These burning fits but meteors be, |
| Whose matter in thee soon is spent. |
| Thy beauty, and all parts, which are thee, |
| Are an unchangeable firmament.
|
[CW: And] |