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Heart-breaking.
It gave a piteous groan, and so it broke;
In vaine it something would have spoke:
The love within too strong for't was
Like poyson put into a Venice Glasse.
I thought that this some Remedy might prove,
But, oh, the mighty Serpent Love,
Cut by this chance in pieces small,
In all still liv'd, and still it slung in all.
And now (alas) each little broken part
Feels the whole pain of all my heart:
And every smallest corner still
Lives with that torment which the whole did kill.
Even so rude Armies when the field they quit,
And into severall Quarters get;
Each Troop does spoyle and ruine more
Then all joyn'd in one body did before.
How many loves reigne in my bosome now?
How many loves, yet all of you?
Thus have I chang'd with evill fate
My Monarch Love into a Tyrant State.