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PASSION. VI.
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PASSION. VI.

[In tract of time is pers'd the hardest fliut]

In tract of time is pers'd the hardest fliut,
Not by the force but by the droppinges fall,
My greefes from raging rigor neuer stint:
And can I then endure such cursed thrall?
Yt were a hell to thinke of such a paine,
Which naught but cares doth wrest from gored vaine
Vaine is my vaine, yet voyde of vaine delight,
Curst is the chaunce that chayngeth to extreame,
Vnhappie man, subiect to Fortunes might,
Can nought but greefe my fatall greefe redeeme,
Then welcom griefe though death more welcom weare,
Whose force at once might end tormenting feare.
Feare, which doth frett the wearie crased heart,
More then the paine, that torment can procure,
The heau'ns I call for to record my smart,
That thus long did such agonies endure;
Leaue to inuaye, loue to be iust yee skies,
And martyre those that doe your power despise.
Skies fild with flame, of fierie fretting ire,
That kindled wrath into my pensiue soule,
In Lvcans forge which frameth deepe defire,
To sell my life for Fortunes blessed dole;
Your dole I craue sweete Ladies to asswage,
The dismale doome of Ianvs daughters rage.