The Countesse of Mountgomeries Urania | ||
45.
Good now be still, and doe not me torment,
With multitude of questions, be at rest,
And onely let me quarrell with my breast,
Which stil lets in new stormes my soule to rent.
With multitude of questions, be at rest,
And onely let me quarrell with my breast,
Which stil lets in new stormes my soule to rent.
Fye, will you still my mischiefes more augment?
You say, I answere crosse, I that confest
Long since, yet must I euer be opprest,
With your tongue torture which wil ne're be spent?
You say, I answere crosse, I that confest
Long since, yet must I euer be opprest,
With your tongue torture which wil ne're be spent?
Well then I see no way but this will fright,
That Deuill speech; alas, I am possest,
And madd folkes senseles are of wisdomes right,
That Deuill speech; alas, I am possest,
And madd folkes senseles are of wisdomes right,
The hellish spirit, Absence, doth arrest.
All my poore senses to his cruell might,
Spare me then till I am my selfe, and blest
All my poore senses to his cruell might,
Spare me then till I am my selfe, and blest
The Countesse of Mountgomeries Urania | ||