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 | Ivvenilia |  |
Eleg. 22.
[Oh cruell and insatiable Death!]
Oh cruell and insatiable Death!297
What pleasure was it more to stop his breath,
Than to have choak'd, or kill'd, or poyson'd me?
My life for his, with thrice three millions more,
We would have given as a ransome to thee;
But since thou in his losse hast made us poore,
Foule Tyrant, it shall never honour do thee:
For thou hast shown thy selfe a spightfull fiend;
Yea, Death, thou didst envie his happy state,
And therefore thought'st to bring it to an end;
But see, see whereto God hath turn'd thy hate:
Thou meant'st to mar the blisse he had before,
And by thy spight hast made it ten times more.
| Ivvenilia | |