Upon the lingring death of the Virtuous Mrs L. H

Death! I not blame thy subtiltie
In cutting off this Happy Shee:
Ne'r didst thou yet in thy black list enroul
So fair a soul.

Thy Envie snatcht her hence, lest wee
By her example taught, should be
Immortaliz'd by virtue, and live stil
Against thy wil.

For hadst thou spar'd her yet awhile,
And not prevented by this wile
Our grand design, thou'adst lost thy sting, and wee
Not feared thee.

Coward thou didst by slow degrees
Upon her Vital spirits ceaze,
Els had shee summon'd pow'r, enough to stand
Thy armed hand.

Subtile and envious Coward, thus
Thou'ast spoiled Nature, robbed us:
Yet I not blame thee, thou'adst no other way,
To get thy prey.