The distracted LOVER to the Ayre of Awake all ye dead.

IM'e now in love, but Oh but Oh,
How severe are th' effects th…t from thence do fl…w.
Diseases are trifles to their cruelty,
Those create but a pain, these misery;
Distracted souls so made by Love,
Are blest they cannot disapprove.
The harsh practices that fate on them do's throw,
Whom lov's little God by his power brings to woe;
Then cruel she, or come or come,
And allot me thy breast, or a tomb, a tomb.

'Tis nobler far to kill, to kill
A condemn'd stave then to keep him still;
With his breast full of horrour expecting then,
Ev'ry moment a death, yet knows not when.
Conquest delay'd in none is brave,
When they may give a suddain gr…ve.
To those that are cloath'd in black despair,
Delayes like some poisons corrosive are,
Then once more send thine eye, theine eye,
That will sure…y destroy, and I dye I dye.