[VII. Tis but a frowne]
Tis but a frowne
Tis but a frowne, I prethee, prethee let me dye, on bended brow
Concludes my Tragedie, for all my loue I craue but this of thee, thou wilt not
bee to long in killing mee, If that you loue not what auailes your smiles,
you onely warme a ball of Snow the whilst, which whilst it gathers
comfort from your eyes, with that same comfort melts away dies, with
that same comfort melts away and dyes, Thus in the ende your smiles your
frownes are one. And differ but in execution, and differs differs but in execution.