Oh do not die, for I shall hate All women so, when thou art gone,That thee I shall not celebrate, When I remember thou was one.
But yet thou canst not die, I know; To leave this world behind, is death,But when thou from this world wilt go, The whole world vapours with thy breath.
Or if, when thou, the world's soul, goes, It stay, 'tis but thy carcass then,The fairest woman, but thy ghost, But corrupt worms, the worthiest men.
Oh wrangling schools, that search what fire Shall burn this world, had none the witUnto this knowledge to aspire, That this her fever might be it?
And yet she cannot waste by this, Nor long bear this torturing wrong,For more corruption needful is, To fuel such a fever long.
These burning fits but meteors be, Whose matter in thee is soon spent.Thy beauty, and all parts, which are thee, Are unchangeable firmament.
Yet 'twas of my mind, seizing thee, Though it in thee cannot persevere.For I had rather owner be Of thee one hour, than all else ever.
