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 But as one toyld with trauaile downe doth lye, So lay ſhe downe, as if to ſleepe ſhe went, And cloſde her eyes with careleſſe quietneſſe; The whiles ſoft death away her ſpirit hent, And ſoule aſſoyld from ſinfull fleſhlineſſe.

Yet ere that her lodging did forſake, She all reſolu’d and ready to remoue, Calling to me (ay me) this wiſe beſpake; Alcyon, ah my firſt lateſt loue, Ah why does my Alcyon weepe and mourne, And grieue my ghoſt, that ill more him behoue, As if to me had chanſt ſome euill teurne?

I, ſince the meſſenger is come fore mee, That ſummons ſoules vnto bridale feaſt Of his great Lord, muſt needes depart from thee, And ſtraught obay his ſoueraine beheaſt: Why ſhould Alcyon then ſo ſore lament, That I from miſerie ſhall be releaſt, And freed from wretched long impriſonment?

Our daies are full of dolor and diſeaſe, Our life afflicted with inceſſant paine, That nought on earth may leſſen or appeaſe. Why then ſhould I deſire here to remaine? Or why ſhould he that loues me, ſorie bee For my deliuerance, or at all complaine My good to heare, and toward ioyes to ſee?

I goe, and long deſired haue to goe, I goe and gladneſſe to my wiſhed reſt, Whereas no worlds ſad care, nor waſting woe May come their happie quiet to moleſt, But