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PASSION. XLVI. (Book 46)
YF this be thus? then farewell all my ioy,
Which I possest before these cares encroc'hd,
IOVE made a choyse, death did his choise destroy,
O would that death had vnto me approch'd:
More welcome sure had been his deadly dart,
Then these annoyes which breede encreasing smart.
Farewell my ioy, I doe renounce thy smile,
I hate the thing which cause of ioy may yeild,
Least fayned hope should certaine FATE beguyle,
Despaire hath wonne the honor of the field,
My loue, my life, my ioy is gone before,
Death may alone my hope of ease restore.
Then as the faithfull which embrace the toole,
And kisse the same, which life doth take away,
Who well were taught in high IEHOVAS schoole,
That beares the bag of simple truth alway:
So will I clippe and kisse this world of paine,
Which Ioue hath sent to coole my wandring braine.
Embracing death and loathing lifes repose,
I rest content and watch the happie time,
I seeke not now to triumphe ou'r my foes,
Yet heere would faine end both my life and rime:
But that I vowed ou'r as your sheapheard true,
With hand and hart to serue and honour you.
FINIS.