Page:The heptalogia, or, The seven against sense - a cap with seven bells (IA heptalogiaorseve00swin).pdf/27

 Yes, my heart, I know, Just my heart's stone dead— Yes, just so. Sick with heat, those worms Drop down scorched and overfed— No more need of germs! Let them go.

Yes, but you now, look, You, the rouged stage female With a crook, Chalked Arcadian sham, You that made my soul's sleep's dream ail— Your soul fit to damn? Shut the book.