 | The Workes of Benjamin Jonson
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An Elegie.
[Since you must goe, and I must bid farewell]
Since you must goe, and I must bid farewell,
Heare Masters, your departing servant tell
What it is like: And doe not thinke they can
Be idle words, though of a parting Man;
It is as if a night should shade noone-day,
Or that the Sun was here, but forc't away;
And we were left under that Hemisphere,
Where we must feele it Darke for halfe a yeare.
What fate is this to change mens dayes and houres,
To shift their seasons, and destroy their powers!
Alas I ha'lost my heat, my blood, my prime,
Winter is come a Quarter e're his Time,
My health will leave me; and when you depart,
How shall I doe sweet Mistris for my heart?
You would restore it? No, that's worth a feare,
As if it were not worthy to be there:
O, keepe it still; for it had rather be
Your sacrifice, then here remaine with me.
And so I spare it, Come what can become
Of me, I'le softly tread unto my Tombe;
Or like a Ghost walke silent amongst men,
Till I may See both it and you agen.
| The Workes of Benjamin Jonson
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