A Testament vpon the passion

TO care, that crucifies my heart,
My sighes, and sobbes, I doe bequeath,
And to my sorrowes deepest smart,
The latest gaspe that I doe breath.

To Fortune I bequeath my folly,
To giue to such as seeke her grace:
To faithlesse friends, that fortune wholly,
That brought mee in this heauie case.

To beauty, I bequeath mine age:
To loue, the hate of wit, and sense:
To patience, but the cure of rage:
To honour, vertues patience.

Mine enemies I do forgiue:
And, to my friends, I giue my loue:
And wish, vngratefull hearts may liue,
But like ingratitude to proue.

To pitty, I bequeath my teares,
To fill her eyes when they be dry:
To faith, the fearelesse thoughts of feares,
To giue to life, to let me die.

My care, I doe bequeath to death,
To cut the threades, that thoughts do spinne,
And, at my latest gaspe of breath,
To heauen my soule, to hell my sinne.