¶ Dialogue.
SWeetest Saviour, if my soul Were but worth the having, Quickly should I then controll Any thought of waving. But when all my care and pains Cannot give the name of gains To thy wretch so full of stains; What delight or hope remains? What (childe) is the ballance thine, Thine the poise and measure? If I say, Thou shalt be mine; Finger not my treasure. What the gains in having thee Do amount to, onely he, Who for man was sold, can see; That transferrd thaccounts to me. But as I can see no merit, Leading to this favour: So the way to fit me for it, Is beyond my savour. As the reason then is thine; So the way is none of mine: I disclaim the whole designe: Sinne disclaims and I resign. That is all, if that I could Get without repining; And my clay my creature would Follow my resigning. That as I did freely part With my glorie and desert,1 Left all joyes to feel all smart ---- Ah! no more: thou breakst my heart. |
1 desert. dessert; deserve by right. [Return] The 1633 Edition does not specify who the speakers are. |
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