Sonnet 45

OF Death some tell, some of the cruell Paine
Which that bad Crafts-man in his Work did trie,
When [a new Monster] flames once did constraine
A humane Corps to yeeld a bellowing Cry.
Some tell of those in burning Beds who lie,
Because they durst in the Phlegrean Plaine
The mighty Ruler of the Skies defie,
And siege those chrystall Tow'rs which all containe,
An other counts of Phlegethons hot floods,
The Soules which drinke Ixions endlesse smart,
And his who feeds a Vulture with his heart,
One tells of Spectars in enchanted Woods:
Of all those Paines th' extreamest who would prove,
Let him be absent and but burne in Love.