 | Ivvenilia |  |
To Envy.
Now looke upon Me Envy, if thou dare,Dart all thy Malice shoot mee ev'ry where:
Try all thy waies thou canst, to make me feele
The cruell sharpnesse of thy poys'ned steele.
For, I am Envy-proofe, and scorne I doe,
The worst thy cankered spight can urge thee to.
This Word, I care not, is so strong a Charme,
That He, who speakes it truely feares no harme,
Which thy accursed Rancor, harbor may;
Or, his perversest Fortunes, on him lay.
Goe, hatefull Fury; Hagge, goe, hide thou then,
Thy snakie head, in thy abhorred Den.
And since thou canst not have thy will of Me:
There, Damned Fiend, thine own tormentres be,
Thy forked slings upon thy body turne;
With Hellish flames, thy scorched entrailes burne;
From thy leane Carkasse, thy blacke fine was teare,
With thine owne Venome burst, and perish there.
Nec Habeo, nec Careo, nec Curo.
| Ivvenilia | |