I.

        t losers prove, May paint my face    seeing me, Ae ree.

        But     kind of fires ts melt, S doth displease, Feeling my pulse, miss my disease.

        II.

        O no!    O no! trial only ster juice of forsaken ain; Nay, former bliss adds to present pain, ates tain. e, learners, to me, tunes lap; And, as you like my double lot, tread in my steps, or follo.

        III.

        For me, alas!    I am full resolved t be dissolved; Nor break my e; Nor fail my faite; Nor cate:

        But alruto fly Up to t shall I die in Phoenix fire.
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