Song (Sad thoughts make hast and kill me out)

Sad thoughts make hast and kill me out,
I live too long in pain;
'Tis dying to be still in doubt,
And death, that ends all miseries,
The chief and only favour is
The wretched can obtain.

I have liv'd long enough to know
That life is a Disease,
At least it does torment me so,
That Death, at whom the happy start.
I court to come, and with his Dart
To give me a release.

Come, friendly Death, then strike me dead,
For all this while I die,
And but long dying nothing dread;
Yet beign with grief the one half slain,
With all thy power thou wilt gain
But half a Victory.